2020-08-15

【Aiden in English】

        I saw a dead dog in the street. This happened a few weeks ago while practicing for an upcoming license exam. The small, frail body was mutilated, sitting on the yellow stripe between the lanes. Luckily for me, I was going forty miles-and-hour and whizzed by its small frame without a detailed image. It more or less resembled a smear of black and dull pink in my peripheral vision, though my imagination filled in most of the canvas.

        Man, that sucks. I felt bad. The dog didn’t deserve to end in such a gruesome, hopeless manner. Throughout the driving session, I felt distracted, only thinking about the tragedy I just witnessed. I’ve never owned a dog or even a pet, but in the fleeting moments that I drove by the decaying corpse, I felt vulnerable, alone— depressed by the darkness in the world that can quickly swallow joy in an instant.

        Turns out, it was just a raccoon. I knew this because on the drive back. I saw the opposing side of the animal and caught a glimpse of its face. Despite the gore spilling out onto the concrete, I distinguished a whisker-y snout with an irregular set of teeth to sharp for dogs of that small frame. With this discovery, my soul’s anguish ceased. But why?

        Throughout my childhood, raccoons were stereotyped into a pesky, crop-stealing hooligan species, particularly by my grandmother who managed a veg patch. She invested hours into growing tomatoes and green beans, and it wasn’t before long that a grueling faceoff occurred between the animal and the grandma.

         “Those damn raccoons,” my grandma would exclaim in Chinese. “All they know is to eat other people’s hard work.”

         “You don’t even have a fence around your garden.”

        And so, with a rickety plastic barrier hitched around the plants, we had successfully kept the illegal immigrants out, and in my immature imagination, we’d defended against a serious evil in the world.

        Thus, as I reflected on my drastic shift of emotions towards the dead animal on the street, many things aligned in my mind. First, I indeed still do not like raccoons, though not with a burning passion as my early years. Second, and more importantly, I discovered the value of clarity.

        The color of chicken separates delicious juiciness and intimate sessions with the toilet later. Clarity provides truths we sometimes don’t realize the first glance, or even avoid exploring entirely. Those details separated my sadness of an innocent dog’s death to the indifference of simple roadkill.

        In moments of contemplation, slight twists of truth drastically swerved my personal outlook on reality. My anguish, my sadness, all vanished with clarity. If I’d known that the body belonged to a veggie-stealing thug, then my heart barely would’ve cared.

        During all of this thinking, I also discovered that my childhood shaped my present mindset to degrees I didn’t even consider. I haven’t seen a raccoon in years, likely due to my lack of outdoor activity, but since the dismantling of our garden, the raccoon enigma faded into the passing years of school.   

        I am a subject of many stereotypes and mindsets passed down through family and culture, much like everyone else. Despite never actually meeting a raccoon up close, I felt as though my family had outcast those corrupt villains from our home. But seeing the body lay there on the street, motionless like any other house pet or animal, I acknowledged that neither a dog nor raccoon deserved the unfortunate ending of a tire and that perhaps those two are less dissimilar than I imagined. Perhaps it would also be time to cast aside those fuzzy childhood influences and create some new mindsets with more clarity instead.

【红霞译文】

        街头有条死犬，那是我几周前为考驾照而外出练车时目睹的场景，孱弱的尸体残缺不全，瘫坐在路间黄色标道线上。我正以40迈/小时的车速行驶，看不清小狗模样，触目惊心的画面让我浮想联翩，眼前仿佛一片暗粉色。

        嗨，多惨啊。我情绪低落，这只狗宝真不该落得恐怖绝望的地步。接下来的驾驶过程中，我心神恍惚，老是想起刚才看到的不幸。我从未养过狗或其它宠物，但就在路过腐尸一刹那间，我感到脆弱孤寂，内心茫然自失，快乐随之离去。

        其实那不过是只浣熊而已，返程途中我才看个明白。从马路对面打量动物模样，尽管水泥地上血迹斑斑，我依旧分得出胡子巴茬的嘴巴与参差不齐的犬牙,足以将狗撕成碎片。至此，积压在心头的痛苦烟消云散，但究竟为什么？

        在我的童年时代，浣熊被认定为无法无天、糟蹋庄稼的坏东西，尤其对于坚守自留地的外婆来说更是如此，她投注了大把精力种植西红柿和四季豆，可没隔多久，外婆与浣熊成了势不两立的对手。

        “可恶的浣熊，”外婆用中文喊道： “它们就知道窃取别人的劳动果实。”

        “没本事看住你的菜地。”

        于是，作物四周晃晃悠悠的塑料栏杆拔地而起，成功地将非法移民挡在门外，我蛮以为这下足以严惩罪无可恕的坏蛋，简直幼稚至极。

        如此，当我反思自己因街头那个倒霉家伙而引起的情绪剧变时，许多事情浮现在脑海中。首先，尽管没再像早年那么感情用事，可我现在依旧不喜欢浣熊；其次，关键在于我发现了是非曲直。

        鸡肉颜色与美味多汁及爱上厕所毫无关系。事实表明我们有时并非留意初次接触，更谈不上深入了解。对待无辜狗宝之死和其它类似交通命案，我的伤心程度迥然有别。

        说白了，真相稍加扭曲就会完全改变我个人对现实的看法，所谓的痛苦，所谓的悲伤，一切皆可荡然无存。要是早知死的那位就是偷吃蔬菜的蒙面大盗，我根本无动于衷。

        经过这番思考，我还发现童年生活在某种程度上影响到现时心态。我已经好多年没见过浣熊（可能由于缺乏户外活动所致），但自从拆除菜园子以来，被浣熊抓狂的日子也一去不复返。

        正如其他诸位，我沿袭了家庭、文化带来的陈规旧念，虽说从未真正接触过浣熊，但总觉得是家人彻底肃清了那些好吃懒做的恶棍。当它横尸街头，像任何宠物或动物那样失去生命体征，我承认无论狗宝还是浣熊都不该惨遭汽车碾压，对他们应同等看待。也许现在是时候去摈弃似是而非的童年影响，转而树立较为正确的全新理念。