— No dejes suelto a tu perro por aquí. Mi hogar es una reserva natural de pelusas.
Manuela, como era de esperar, no se lo tomó en serio, se creyó que era una broma mía. De hecho, ella no podía almorzar conmigo y tener al perro sujeto por la cuerda. Por eso, lo dejó suelto. Y el perro, por instinto, se comió varias de las pelusas de mi pasillo, las más hermosas, las más grandes, que eran de una categoría singular que requiere condiciones muy especiales de temperatura, luz y falta de higiene en esa parte de la casa para que crezcan en buenas condiciones.
Después de un rato, vino el perro de Manuela estornudando. Yo enseguida me olí lo que había pasado:
— Tu perro no se habrá comido pelusas de mi pasillo, espero...
— ¿Y qué si se ha comido alguna? Sería bueno para ti. Ya no tendrás que pasar más la aspiradora —me replicó ella.
Yo no dije nada. No quería discutir con mi amiga, pero su perro acababa de cometer un error del que se arrepentiría toda su vida, seguro.
Después del almuerzo, mi amiga se fue con su perro. Yo ni siquiera quise ver el estropicio que el animal había causado en mi reserva natural de pelusas, de la cual yo estaba tan orgulloso. Sin embargo, recibí una llamada de ella tres horas más tarde.
— Oye, mi perro no está en casa —me dijo toda angustiada—. Las puertas y las ventanas están todas cerradas, no sé dónde ha podido ir —estaba punto de llorar.
Yo reflexioné un momentito. Habida cuenta que su piso apenas queda a doscientos metros del mío, tuve una sospecha. Después de acabar la conversación con Manuela, me fui al pasillo. Y, en efecto, mi sospecha se confirmó. Allí estaba el perro de Manuela, pero ya no como un perro cualquiera, sino como perro-pelusa. Sí, mis pelusas habían conseguido, después de ser comidas, transformar al perro en una inmensa pelusa, como ellas, hasta crear una criatura mixta. Y claro, ellas, las pelusas, se trajeron de vuelta el perro a su hábitat natural, es decir, mi pasillo.
When Manuela came for lunch to my house with her dog, the first thing I warned her about was:
"Don't leave your dog loose in here, will you? My home is a natural reservation of dustballs". But the truth is that she could not have lunch with me and hold her dog tied at the same time. Therefore, she left him loose. And the dog, by instinct, went and ate several of the dustballs living in my corridor, the most beautiful, the biggest ones, of a singular category requiring very special conditions of temperature, light and lack of hygiene in that part of the house, so that they grow up in good conditions.
After a while, Manuela's dog came back sneezing. I immediately suspected what had happened:
"Hope your dog hasn't eaten any dustballs from my corridor...", I said.
"And what if he has eaten any? It would be good for you. You won't have to use the vacuum-cleaner there for the time being", she replied.
After lunch, my friend left with her dog. I didn't want to see the catastrophe that the animal had caused to my natural reserve of dustballs, of which I was so proud. However, I got a phone call from her three hours later.
"Say, my dog is not at home," she said all desperate. "The doors and windows are all closed, I dont know where he could have gone." She was about to cry.
I thought it over a while. Since her flat is just two blocks away from mine, I had a suspicion. Therefore, after finishing the conversation with Manuela, I went into the corridor. And indeed, my suspicion was confirmed. There was Manuela's dog; however it was an ordinary dog no longer, but a dustball-dog. Yes, after being eaten, my dustballs had achieved to transform the dog into a huge dustball, like themselves, so they had created a mixed creature. And of course, they, the dustballs, were brought the dog back to their natural habitat, i.e., my corridor.
When Manuela came for lunch to my house with her dog, the first thing I warned her about was:
"Don't leave your dog loose in here, will you? My home is a natural reservation of dustballs". But the truth is that she could not have lunch with me and hold her dog tied at the same time. Therefore, she left him loose. And the dog, by instinct, went and ate several of the dustballs living in my corridor, the most beautiful, the biggest ones, of a singular category requiring very special conditions of temperature, light and lack of hygiene in that part of the house, so that they grow up in good conditions.
After a while, Manuela's dog came back sneezing. I immediately suspected what had happened:
"Hope your dog hasn't eaten any dustballs from my corridor...", I said.
"And what if he has eaten any? It would be good for you. You won't have to use the vacuum-cleaner there for the time being", she replied.
After lunch, my friend left with her dog. I didn't want to see the catastrophe that the animal had caused to my natural reserve of dustballs, of which I was so proud. However, I got a phone call from her three hours later.
"Say, my dog is not at home," she said all desperate. "The doors and windows are all closed, I dont know where he could have gone." She was about to cry.
I thought it over a while. Since her flat is just two blocks away from mine, I had a suspicion. Therefore, after finishing the conversation with Manuela, I went into the corridor. And indeed, my suspicion was confirmed. There was Manuela's dog; however it was an ordinary dog no longer, but a dustball-dog. Yes, after being eaten, my dustballs had achieved to transform the dog into a huge dustball, like themselves, so they had created a mixed creature. And of course, they, the dustballs, were brought the dog back to their natural habitat, i.e., my corridor.
Frantz Ferentz, 2014
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