Moobi’s Journey
Rusting Gate, Orange Skies, and An Unease
The big black gate was open. It was left open for quite a long time. I usually don’t venture outside the compound for fear of strays and being scolded by my hoomans. It was a typical, lazy day without the usual sultriness — a perfect setting to wind down and sleep like a log.
But my doggy mind had other plans — and my curiosity got the better of me. The open gate was luring me, and I could see the long winding road beyond the gate, ascending towards the left.
“Is there a chance to get out and explore a bit”? “Maybe I should sneak out the gate and go just as far as the descent begins and get a good view of the busy main road.” I thought to myself. Nope. Bad idea, I affirmed myself, but I couldn’t shake that feeling off.
I stood at the front door, watching over the gate and the surroundings to my left. It was a large matte black cast iron gate with four panels in two parts. It made a slight creaking sound while it moved. It folded out into the road. It has started rusting near the corners. It was my favorite place to pee. When taken out for a walk, I would go by the gate, gleefully pee, and mark my territory, my hood. Hooman says it’s my constant peeing that rusted the gate. Little does the hooman know that marking territory is vital for safety.
To my right was a small garden with potted plants and flowers under and around a big cherry tree that bordered the property perimeter wall. The gentle breeze caressed my fluffy fur, soothing my senses. From the kitchen, the aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, passing me.
It was almost evening, and the sunlight had started fading, turning the sky and the ground below a funny shade of orange. The fallen dry leaves, once my phobia, rustled with the wind. I am not afraid of them anymore. I have overcome most of my fears over the years. But I am still wary of the stupid crackers busting. I would hide myself under the bed until they stopped busting. My hooman would sometimes hold me and calm me down.
The path towards the gate was paved with grey concrete cobblestones, which offered a firm grip even when wet. Opposite the entrance was the car park, a white hatchback, an orange bike, and a grey scooter parked.
I felt an inexplainable uneasiness, a wavering, a weird feeling I had never felt in my close-to-ten years of living here. It was gnawing at me, and it was a hunch, a preview of what was yet to unfold.
To be Continued…
