ifeiA Gentle Life

Later, Nora helped clean out some of the little dog huts. She imagined they
called them huts because it sounded better than cages, which was really a more apt name for them. There was a three-legged Alsatian called Diesel, who had been there a while apparently. When they played catch, Nora discovered his reflexes were good, his mouth catching the ball almost every time. She liked this life — or more precisely, she liked the version of herself in this life. She could tell the kind of person she was from the way people spoke to her. It felt nice — comforting, solidifying — to be a good person.
Her mind felt different here. She thought a lot in this life, but her thoughts were gentle.
‘Compassion is the basis of morality, the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer had written, in one of his softer moments. Maybe it was the basis of life too.
There was one man who worked there called Dylan, who had a natural way with all the dogs. He was about her age, maybe younger. He had a kind, gentle, sad look about him. His long surf-dude hair golden as a retriever. He came and sat next to Nora on a bench at lunch, overlooking the field.
‘What are you having today?’ he asked, sweetly, nodding to Nora’s lunchbox.
She honestly didn’t know — she had found it already prepared when she’d opened her magnet- and calendar-cluttered fridge that morning. She peeled off the lid to find a cheese and Marmite sandwich and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. The sky darkened and the wind picked up.
‘Oh crap,’ Nora said. ‘It’s going to rain.’
‘Maybe, but the dogs are all still in their cages.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Dogs can smell when rain is coming…