Wolf.
Yan, Mo
The wolf took a picture of our fat pig. Knowing it would take the
film to the photo shop at the bridgehead to have it developed, I ran
over and waited for it behind the door, my dog behind me, its hackles standing up, a growl churning in its throat. The photo clerk, who was
dusting the counter, ordered me to get the dog out of there.
"Blackie," I said, "go on home." But when he
stubbornly refused to move, I grabbed his ear and tried to drag him
away. What I got in return was an angry bite out of my pants. "See
that?" I said to the clerk, pointing at the hole in my pants.
"He won't leave." She just glared at him wordlessly. The
wolf showed up at about ten o'clock that morning. }it'd
changed himself into a fair-skinned middle-aged man in a blue khaki
tunic that was badly faded from too many launderings. The residue of
chalk on his sleeve indicated that he was a high-school math teacher.
But I knew it was the wolf. He could change a. he wanted, but he
couldn't fool me. He leaned over the counter, took the roll of
filmout of his pocket, and was about to hand it to the clerk when my dog
attacked, biting him on his buttocks. A shrill shriek burst from his
mouth as his bushy tail swelled in his pants. But it subsided almost at
once. The ability to calm himself so quickly was a sign that his Daoist
attainments were well advanced. My dog let go and ran away, but I rushed
up and snatched the roll of film out of his band, which elicited a
startled gaze and an outcry from the clerk. "Who do you think you
are, pulling a high-handed stunt like that?" "He's a
wolf!" I shouted. It reacted by feigning an abused look, with a
sort of bitter smile, and held out his helplessness in refuting it.
"Give that film back!" the clerk demanded, but by then he was
out the door, and I knew he'd be gone without a trace by the time I
reached the doorway. Sure enough, the street was deserted, not a soul in
sight.
[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
When I got back home, our pig was lying there, its belly ripped
open, courtesy of that wolf. My dog, badly hurt, was crouched in a
corner, whining as it licked its wound.
Translated by Howard Goldblatt
