Tampering

Translated from the Persian original.

Hadi Pakzad reading the Persian original himself; published on his Telegram channel on 9 November 2015.

For a while I'd been feeling lonely; I wanted a pet. I hate birds, because I know they haven't got much of a brain, and yet they can fly. Who on earth gave something like flight to these brainless things? I'm not a jealous person, but well, if some creature was going to fly, why can't man, the noblest of beings, or maybe of creations, do it? He has more on his plate, he understands flight; another dimension is downright essential for a human. But I don't get why even cockroaches sometimes have wings, and this human doesn't.

I didn't like cats either. They say it's a heartless animal, or an independent animal; they say it's disloyal. I said to myself, a cat won't be a companion for me either.

A dog, though, was a good option. I got a one-month-old puppy and started raising him. Dogs grow up fast, so I didn't think it would be that hard a job at all, but bit by bit it got difficult.

Male dogs have a habit of marking with urine whenever they find themselves in a new, unfamiliar place, or when they get geographically confused, and puppies, whenever they get excited at seeing someone, can't help peeing wherever they are. Now, teaching a dog to keep a specific spot for peeing takes time in itself, let alone trying to change this fundamental, primitive flaw in a dog's nature, or trying to get it through his head that so-and-so isn't worth getting excited about at all. But I wasn't fooling around with him at all. Whenever he made one of these mistakes, for whatever reason, there was a set punishment. Specific rules had been laid down for eating too, like how even when his food was right in front of him, he couldn't start eating without permission. My dog probably thought I was neurotic or crazy for being so hard on him, but the truth was I had matching madnesses on the other side too, like never giving him leftovers, scraps or food someone had picked at; his food was prepared or cooked just for him. I'd set aside plenty of time to play and spend with him, and I'd also bought him all kinds of toys and other gear, and all kinds of shampoos, deodorizers and bowls, so that if he hadn't been punished now and then, he'd probably have been the happiest dog in the world.

Some time passed, and in dog years he had become young and fully grown. He wasn't just an ordinary adult dog; he had now become a creature with character. You could tell he kept his distance from other dogs, especially if he saw they had no manners. He didn't bark at anyone either. When he was home alone I'd put on good music for him, sometimes films. If he heard crap music somewhere, he'd get restless. Little by little he started watching the news and documentaries too; if I put on a rerun he'd give me a dirty look. In short, he'd pretty much fallen out of being a dog.

For a few days he'd been really withdrawn; he wouldn't answer me at all, wasn't eating his food properly. I went and sat next to him and asked, is something wrong, are you upset? He said he felt down, said living in the house was hard for him, he wanted to do something; he said he wanted to leave, to go somewhere he could be useful. I got angry. I said, what kind of dog are you? Where's your loyalty gone? Where would you go? He said, I wish you'd let me stay a dog. I wish you hadn't shown me a bigger world. If it had been that way, you'd have been a better owner and I'd have stayed a loyal dog for you. He said, you tampered with me. He said, you had no right to meddle with my nature.

He went quiet and went into the room. I was so angry I couldn't stay in one place; I went to the door of the room and shouted, what were you thinking? You think if you leave here, people will leave you alone? Who are you going to live with? What will you eat, where will you go? He said, I'll go and mate, start a family, make my own kids literate, teach them to talk and think. Actually, I want to make dogs understand that their loyalty comes from their backwardness. I want to have an impact on dog society; it's my right. I said, the first person who sees you can talk will grab you, take you and sell you to someone, and you'll be passed from hand to hand until you end up in a zoo. And even if you don't get caught, it'll take millions of years before you can raise the genetics of the dog species to its higher state, and in the end they'll just turn into something like us humans. Well, then you'll get lonely like us humans and want to get a dog; you'll want unconditional loyalty, and there won't be any of that quality left in nature. But I'm not the kind of person who wants to keep animals by force. I packed his things for him and sent him on his way. Tears had welled up in my eyes; I couldn't tell whether I had been tamed by him or he by me.

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