he hadnât chosen and didnât understand. If the jeep hadnât driven up to the camp, he probably never would have left the grasslands. He would have grown old with the sheep, in green pastures under blue skies, just like other mastiffs. There would have been occasional fights with wild animals, and he would have killed some of them. And there would have been the chance â a very small chance â that he would have made a mistake and succumbed to an attack himself. But if he had lived long enough out on the grasslands, he would have been sure to continue his own pure mastiff bloodline.
But everything had changed. He had left that life forever, and never again would he be a shepherd dog. He had even lost the freedom to run the streets of Lhasa by night. As long as no other mastiff appeared, he was probably destined to remain tied up on this mountainside, to age slowly as the man with the dark cheeks dreamed of making it rich. Either that, or he would be bought by a wealthy man and spend the rest of his days guarding a mansion.
The rusty red mastiff was suffering the same treatment that Kelsang had. It was being led out of a truck by a long stick. It was already showing signs of age â the color of its coat was starting to fade and two clumps of bronzy-gold fur were sprouting above its eyes. As the helpers led the new mastiff down from the back of the truck, Kelsang noticed that their sleeves were slathered in blood.
But this mastiff was eerily calm. It didnât react as the loops of rope hurtled over its head, not even when the ropes pulled it to the ground, and the men slipped the metal reinforced collar around its neck and fastened chains to it.
They screwed another pole into the ground.
After they removed the ropes, the dog lay down and didnât move. The waiters who wanted to see it lash out at its new surroundings were disappointed. Even the man with the dark cheeks felt uneasy, though there was little chance of losing money. He could buy these shepherd dogs off the grasslands for a shockingly low price whenever he wanted. Tibet was full of good deals to be made if only you knew how. There was a rumor among the waiters that the boss had recently bought a piece of jade carved into the shape of an eggplant for just a couple of cans of gas and then had it escorted by two cars to Chengdu. No one knew how much he got for it, but it was a lot â letâs put it that way.
The waiters left, their expectations dashed. Kelsang pulled on his chains and charged at the newcomer, barking, but the other mastiff ignored him. These days Kelsang found that once he started barking, he couldnât stop â at least not until he was overcome by sadness. But this time he felt none of the satisfaction he usually did, and so he calmed himself and lay down.
Toward evening, two waiters came with hind legs of mutton. The rusty red mastiff just lay where it was, not touching the meat that was thrown to it. Kelsang didnât understand why, but for the first time in his life he didnât feel like eating, either. He was too busy examining this new mastiff. The two waiters, so used to seeing Kelsang crunch his way through flesh and bone, were disappointed again and left, cursing.
The other mastiff really was getting old. Stiff brown hairs poked through its dull, faded red coat, and Kelsang could detect the smell of old age. Of all the smells he had stored up, it reminded him most of old leather. He didnât know what it was about this dog that fascinated him so much. Whenever the dog happened to look up, it seemed to gaze straight through him into the distance. This indifference made Kelsang panicky. Having been tied up for so long, he simply wasnât prepared to accept that he was to be ignored like this. He jumped up and pulled at his chains. But he didnât start barking â not because he couldnât, but because he didnât want to anymore.
Kelsang lay back down and followed the
But everything had changed. He had left that life forever, and never again would he be a shepherd dog. He had even lost the freedom to run the streets of Lhasa by night. As long as no other mastiff appeared, he was probably destined to remain tied up on this mountainside, to age slowly as the man with the dark cheeks dreamed of making it rich. Either that, or he would be bought by a wealthy man and spend the rest of his days guarding a mansion.
The rusty red mastiff was suffering the same treatment that Kelsang had. It was being led out of a truck by a long stick. It was already showing signs of age â the color of its coat was starting to fade and two clumps of bronzy-gold fur were sprouting above its eyes. As the helpers led the new mastiff down from the back of the truck, Kelsang noticed that their sleeves were slathered in blood.
But this mastiff was eerily calm. It didnât react as the loops of rope hurtled over its head, not even when the ropes pulled it to the ground, and the men slipped the metal reinforced collar around its neck and fastened chains to it.
They screwed another pole into the ground.
After they removed the ropes, the dog lay down and didnât move. The waiters who wanted to see it lash out at its new surroundings were disappointed. Even the man with the dark cheeks felt uneasy, though there was little chance of losing money. He could buy these shepherd dogs off the grasslands for a shockingly low price whenever he wanted. Tibet was full of good deals to be made if only you knew how. There was a rumor among the waiters that the boss had recently bought a piece of jade carved into the shape of an eggplant for just a couple of cans of gas and then had it escorted by two cars to Chengdu. No one knew how much he got for it, but it was a lot â letâs put it that way.
The waiters left, their expectations dashed. Kelsang pulled on his chains and charged at the newcomer, barking, but the other mastiff ignored him. These days Kelsang found that once he started barking, he couldnât stop â at least not until he was overcome by sadness. But this time he felt none of the satisfaction he usually did, and so he calmed himself and lay down.
Toward evening, two waiters came with hind legs of mutton. The rusty red mastiff just lay where it was, not touching the meat that was thrown to it. Kelsang didnât understand why, but for the first time in his life he didnât feel like eating, either. He was too busy examining this new mastiff. The two waiters, so used to seeing Kelsang crunch his way through flesh and bone, were disappointed again and left, cursing.
The other mastiff really was getting old. Stiff brown hairs poked through its dull, faded red coat, and Kelsang could detect the smell of old age. Of all the smells he had stored up, it reminded him most of old leather. He didnât know what it was about this dog that fascinated him so much. Whenever the dog happened to look up, it seemed to gaze straight through him into the distance. This indifference made Kelsang panicky. Having been tied up for so long, he simply wasnât prepared to accept that he was to be ignored like this. He jumped up and pulled at his chains. But he didnât start barking â not because he couldnât, but because he didnât want to anymore.
Kelsang lay back down and followed the
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