Devices For Curving

The boomerang accumulated so much leaf and feather on its way back, we mistook it for a bird, attacking the dog.  And we yelled “What the hell is that thing doing to Fluffs!” Forgetting our boomerang, that, had it not been the bird attacking Fluffs, would still have been on its way to our heads. In religious terms we were the Christians eying the Messiah, abandoning all else, while a Jew would have still been waiting for the Real Deal. Either way, Fluffs was fighting his attacker, and we panicked while hair, leaf, feather, and dust were twirling around the playground in anxious urgency. It goes without saying that this scene went down in slow-motion. People gathered ‘round, mouths dropped open, arms slowly swung into the air, stretched barks of the dog came from the tornado of particles. We waited.

When the dust settled, a heroic dog with a bump on his head, and some fur missing, stood firm on his paws, holding in his mouth a clean yet tooth-marked boomerang. We turned around to the part of the sky in which we had thrown that particular piece of wood, and then back to Fluffs.

We then, feeling quite sure this somehow needed an announcement, yelled out the final score in this fight; “The Bird took our Boomerang!” The gathered audience shook their heads in astonishment. “But Fluffs saved it!” Applause from the hands of the relieved passers-by; they could now calmly continue their otherwise somewhat lame Sunday morning walks, knowing they had their epic story for the home-front already in their pockets.

One of them said to an other while walking away; “Can you imagine a bird swallowing that entire Boomerang, and the Dog devouring the thing alive! Incredible!” Yet another whispered to a friend; “I heard they went to some place somewhere in Africa, and got that Boomerang from a Voodoo Master. I wouldn’t want to play with things like that! Who knows what kind of spells you bring home with you!” A father told his Child to be careful playing in the park next time; “There are some extremely dangerous animals in this park, you should always be very, very cautious!” Nobody seemed interested in verifying either story, or statements made. Therefore it was not a long jump to the conclusion that Sunday morning souls are rather attached to whatever it is that causes commotion. Abandoning all else.

We took Fluffs by the collar and petted him on his head, making sure not to touch the bump. The three of us stood silently in the mess of leaf, and hair, and feather, watching the people go about their day contentedly. “The show is over guys,”  you said in a soft voice, almost sad that the ado had run its course. I took the boomerang from Fluffs, and cast it back into the air, staring patiently in the distance for its return.