“I’m sorry, but you can’t do this here.”
“Why not? ”
“It’s against regulations. You’ll have to disrupt the mould and remove the ground cover.” The two police officers sounded alien, officious. One of them was talking into his mobile talkie while the other was taking notes and looking around.
It was a busy shopping street. The artist had attracted a lot of interest, attention, from passers-by. Some had dropped a coin or two into a plastic cup that he’d placed next to the sand mould of a lying dog. Others looked on admiringly. Its head was positioned resting across from its two aligned front paws. The artist was wearing a worn scruffy coat. He’d already been moved on several times. It was becoming quite a chore spoiling the sand then scooping it into a thick plastic bin liner.
“Hey look, mum? Look at that dog model? It looks really neat.” A kid caught his mother’s attention as they passed the spectacle. She was more concerned about the contents of a nearby shop window. The boy tugged her arm. She turned her head towards the mould.
“Hmm, yes. It does look lovely, doesn’t it? It looks almost real...surreal, in fact.”
The artist moved to another area of the city. It wasn’t long before the same thing happened. He was told to up sticks and leave.
“Will I ever find a permanent place?” He wondered. “One where I’m not going to be bothered by police?”
He wasn’t giving up. He found a suitable spot on another pavement. Although not as busy as the previous places, it was ideal. Two large department stores were quite close, across from the square where he’d set the sand, the moulding tools, a bottle of water to sprinkle the model, so that it would remain intact.
It wasn’t long before two policeman were patrolling the area. They came over to where he was sitting. His heart sank.
“Er...humph. Just what do you think you’re doing?” One of the officers asked.
“Presenting something interesting, artistic, so that shoppers and passers-by will enjoy; find interesting.”
“And hoping to make a profit from it, no doubt.” He scutinized the empty cup placed by the side of the sand sculpture. “Pack up immediately or I’ll arrest you for trespass and defacing a public area. This is just not on.”
The artist had gathered his bag and zipped it up. He was just about to deface the model with his hands when he felt the sand turn soft. “My God! It’s turning into dog hair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the officer scorned.
It wasn’t long before a quick change had occurred. The model had become a dog. But it wasn’t any dog. It was a rottweiler, and it started to growl, bare it’s teeth and started snapping at the officer. Shocked and terrified, the officer ran away. The dog took off running, leaping, barking and snapping at any terrified shopper it sensed didn’t like it as a model. Then it turned into a labrador; jumped up, sniffed and licked the hands of those that it sensed did.
The dog bounded back to the artist, settled down and changed back into the sand.
“Well, fancy that,” The artist wondered. “Perhaps I’ll be left alone now.”
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