I check the monitor to ensure all four digital video cameras—two in the brush, two in the trees—are working. It’s kind of hilarious. Xxx The star of my film, the human in her, momentarily bobs up from her oceanic lust to register what’s happening. The camera catches her perfectly, eyebrows knotted, eyes empty, panting. The blue undersides of her well-worn running shoes—she just couldn’t get them off—poke out between her sated pet’s back paws. They don’t care how long they last. The dog gallops after her, but she hears him, grabs for another rock, stumbles and faceplants. The dish sends out sequence of electromagnetic pulses. Without hesitation or fear or remorse. He loves her, is devoted to her. The dog comes to her, is on top of her. She picks up a large rock and chucks it at him, hard.
