(A tale of the Valbasca Band)
Marduk never made any noise.
It appeared.
At the top of a ladder, on a rock, in the morning light. Always with that air of an Egyptian statue come on holiday.
It was beautiful. But beautiful in the way that makes you lose the desire to complain about Mondays.
And he knew it.
But he didn't boast about it: at most he used it to get an extra caress or a comfortable seat on the sofa.
The shining eyes, the regal profile, the delicate paw when he placed his heart on you.
He was a playboy, yes.
One of those who give you the sweet eyes and then steal your dog bed.
But never out of malice.
He loved with elegance.
And when he left, he left behind a trail of happy sighs and a few missing cookies.
That day he woke up with an idea.
He wanted to give a gift.
To whom? He didn't know yet. But it seemed like the right day to spread a little romance.
He walked down to the meadow with a slow pace, as if walking inside a song.
He found three wild roses, the smallest and most fragrant. He took them carefully, one at a time.
He left the first one in front of Camilla's kennel, where she was sleeping with one ear in the air.
The second one ended up near Frida's bowl, which she only noticed after lunch (and tried to eat it).
The third one was placed on the cover of Skye, with a romantic movie look and a gentlemanly puff of air.
Then he returned to his seat, crouched down elegantly and fell asleep with one paw tucked under his chin.
Nobody said anything.
But from that day on, every time Marduk passes by…
someone is fixing their fur. 