detail from: KRK Art dizajn

THAT’S HOW IT STARTED

     

Dusica Ivanovic, author, Pancevo

An excerpt from the novel “On Four Legs”

(Translated from Serbian into English by Maja L. Markovic)

            

                The Millers lived on a dead-end street in a suburb of Toronto; my earliest memories are related to them. I don't remember my life before I came to their house, no one’s ever been telling me anything about it, although I desperately wanted to know who my biological mother was, whether I had brothers and sisters, where I was born... You know what I’m talking about. Such questions torment all of us who are adopted, and it was clear to me that I was adopted on the day when I first ran towards the table just laid, where freshly baked croissants, butter, and milk were lying. The family was already sitting at the table. I had just woken up and headed for the kitchen, attracted by their voices and the smell of fresh pastries. When I saw them sitting around the table, I rushed to the free chair out of breath and, of course, I couldn't jump high enough. I climbed onto my hind legs, stretched my body, raised my head; I even growled a little, because no one seemed to notice me but it was all in vain. Then I moved away from the table and watched them. I noticed that they were skillfully spreading butter on warm rolls with their front paws, and that they had slippers on their hind legs.

 I continued to watch them over the next few days, and I also scrutinized myself, comparing us; then I was surprised how it hadn't occurred to me before because it was so obvious! We weren't the same species, even though they were my mom and dad. That's how they introduced themselves to me and constantly referred to themselves in the third person. Come and let mom brush your hair - she would say, and he would call: Now dad will put a leash on you, and then we'll go for a walk.  

 There was another living being in the house; four-legged, like me; and very dangerous, unlike me. His name was Bruno, he had dark fur, pointed ears, and weighed at least forty pounds more than me. He never came near me, except to grab a bone from my mouth, or roughly snatch a toy I was chewing. We didn't play together. He was always quicker and more skillful at taking a seat on the couch, between Mom and Dad, when they would sit down to watch TV in the evenings. I reconciled myself to my place on the carpet by Dad's feet.

 When I arrived at the Miller family, everything, even a spot in their bed, was already taken. Hey had placed my crib on the left side of their large double bed, where Dad slept. Bruno would always stretch out at the bottom of the bed, under their legs and lie so high, as if on some pedestal that he seemed even more dangerous to me than usual.

 For some time I thought that Bruno must be my brother. I didn’t know what I really looked like, so I imagined that I would grow up one day and be as tall as him; but as time passed, my head still barely reached his thigh. When Mom and Dad put a large mirror on the hallway floor, everything became clear to me. Of course, my first reaction when I looked in the mirror was complete shock!I imagined myself looking like Bruno and I thought I had a big head, pointed ears, strong legs, high crupper, dangerously slanted eyes and menacing teeth. However, a small shaggy creature with silky white fur, long floppy ears, round eyes and a muzzle like a button was looking at me from the mirror; it had short legs and a tail looking like a palm tree.

 I sighed a little disappointed. I looked more like my toys than the big, strong Bruno. And it was clear that the two of us were not relatives. Then, whom I belonged to, I wondered. It was my first identity crisis; but not my last.

Lola - photo: Zoran Vujanović

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