i found these in an old orange journal of mine:

3.8.97-

the black and white cat that lives in the med school let me pet him a few days ago, finally. and when i reached down to pet behind his ears- my fingers went deep into a gaping wound at the back of his neck. the cat simply stared at me, not making a sound. i haven't seen it since.

3.12.97-

here is the jackal story:

Martin pulled over when we saw the fresh roadkill. It was a young jackal. he pulled over.

he cut its head off with his swiss army knife while we watched. he loaded it into the back of the vw bus. sandra gagged.

when we got back to the dig site, Martin skinned it and boiled its skull on the camp fire. he took the skin from its skull and spread it over one of the wide fenceposts just outside the shelter. now it smells of rot.

yesterday morning, three jackals appeared and came very close to us and the fire- checking us out. they made small dog grumbles.

i got the closest to them, toast in my hand. i wonder if they were just brave from hunger.