Kimonos in the Closet

Talking Animals

16 Talking Animals When the bears and wolves and foxes of our fairytales return to the woods flaunting their human hats and vests, their brethren pounce upon them and drive them away. Most take refuge in our towns. Eating from our gardens. Patronizing our pastry shops. Singing hymns in the back pews of our churches. They avoid romantic entanglements with humans since offspring from such affairs tend to be born with tails or paws. In the evenings they go to our pubs to play cards, ignoring the growling of guard dogs along the way. If one gets sick, we tend to him as best we can, though our medicines often exacerbate their ills and our transfusions tend to pollute their blood. When such a beast dies, we place him in a wooden box and hold a vigil through the night, recalling his wondrous exploits. Then we gather our tubas and drums and make a slow procession to the forest’s edge. There we set the coffin down. And step quietly away. Trusting that somewhere deep in animal lore they too subscribe to a tale about a prodigal son. ...