In the gloomy world of humans, sleep enveloped my consciousness, my hands and feet were cold, but I needed to sleep, and I began to doze off.
…angry birds with distorted faces and a feathery mane danced clumsily around me, pressing in with their sharp beaks. Something in the area of my knee was biting excessively, like a bee pretending to be a flying fly.
But suddenly I woke up abruptly and saw a man approaching the garbage can.
– Why do they throw it in that bright box?" And where do they get food on this cold day, now nothing grows and it's hard to hunt? I thought as I watched the car pull out of the yard.
I sat quietly by the side of the road, like a grown manthrowing out bags that smelled like food. "They probably print it at home, since it's not a pity to throw it away," I thought again, remembering my own planet, where they worked very hard for food and in the end we had to move to this planet to save ourselves from starvation.
At the time of the flight, as my parents told me through the tradition of generations, the dogs quarreled and swore to get to the blue planet, which was the third in a row from the bright star, to stop communicating with each other, and everyone will continue to survive in their own way. Yes, we are dogs.
So we lost the connection and secret knowledge of our progenitors, and nowwe are forced to beg in towns and villages in search of food. We continue to communicate through thoughts between other dogs, without making any sounds, occasionally barking, pretending in front of people who occupy a supreme position here that we do not know how to talk.