As the Electric Dog walked down from his small but neat townhouse to the primitive wooden hut where Water Shrew lived at the edge of the stream, the wondered how his friend would take the news he was about to break. Would he lose his habitual cool? Or gloat? Would he even understand?

 He felt particularly vulnerable and self-conscious, remembering how he used to tease his conservative friend about being a “sexual mastodon”, and a “dick-in-the mud”.

But the Shrew who was silently observing his friend’s hangdog expression for days needed no prompting. Looking at him with his deep-set eyes, almost completely concealed by the soft fur, he broke the silence: “I know you are HIV-positive.”

“How on earth did you guess?” the Dog asked in amazement.

The Shrew ignored his question. “Well, tell me how you feel about it,” he said, sitting down by the pile of wood he was chiseling with his sharp teeth, preparing a replacement for his old fence.

The Electric Dog told him about the initial shock of the diagnosis, his anger at the press who were setting up the gays as the plague carriers, his growing sense of loss and danger, and his attempts to come to grips with it.

“I am sticking to ‘safe sex’ and I have started a meditation and a visualization class,” he confided to his friend. “You know, 65% of all HIV-positive people never get AIDS anyway. I am on mega doses of Vitamin C to knock the bloody critters out of my system, and I hope to be able to go to Mexico where there is this guy who uses extracts from the poison of a rattlesnake to cure AIDS”.

“My naturopath tells me the worst thing for me is peanut butter and jam sandwiches – to which, alas, I am addicted. The Candida and the HIV virus apparently love it too”, he added ruefully.

“I asked you how you FEEL, not what you are going to DO,” the Water Shrew interjected finally. “Anyway, while we are on the subject of doing, did you tell your Mom and Pop about your predicament?”

“You’re kidding?” the Electric Dog looked at him incredulously “They won’t even listen. Mom will tell me that this is because I have always refused to wear thermal underwear in winter and Dad will only repeat, ‘I told you so’. Then, they’ll start blaming each other. No, I can’t tell them. Not yet, anyway.”

“And what are your friends saying?” asked the Shrew.

“Most of them are in their wits’ end,” said the Dog. “Some are already refusing to fight and are succumbing to their guilt and the medical propaganda, some are living it up as if these were the last days, and only the minority, like myself, are fighting back.”

“Do you want to do a Water Shrew Meditation to see if we can shed any light on your predicament?” asked his trusty friend.

“Well, yes, I’ll try anything”, said the Dog.

“Sit quietly, close your eyes and allow your mind to go to the Center of Animal Intelligence in your consciousness”, intoned the Shrew hypnotically. “Let all thoughts and ideas arise uncritically. Watch your breath go down into the pit of your belly. Speak only when your mind is at peace.”

It took the Electric Dog some time to quiet down. Finally, his belly was heaving rhythmically and his eyelids stopped twitching. He was in a deep trance.

“What do you see?” asked the Shrew.

The Electric dog cleaned his throat and started haltingly.

I see something…looks like a spiky ball, covered by cobwebs. No…tiny blood vessels. I see it’s pulsating and turning. I think it’s alive. Oh, yes, I think it is the HIV virus.”

“Talk to it.”

“It won’t talk to me,’ said the Dog.

“Why not?”

“Because…because it does not like the name it’s been given, and it does not like being treated as an enemy.”

“Ask it its real name,” suggested the Shrew.

“He says his real name is the Forgotten Anger. He says he has lived in a small cupboard of our collective unconscious for thousands of years waiting for the opportunity to talk to us.”

 “What else?”

“He says now we may be ready to listen. But we must stop fighting him on our terms only. He says we can’t win that way. He says he is very, very smart. He says he is infinitely mutable. He is, after all, a part of our deepest intelligence.”

“Ask him what his message is.”

“He says the clue was given to us long ago…and repeatedly. Something about ‘the enmity between the man and the woman, and between your offspring and hers…”

“That’s a bit obscure. Ask him why Africa and why gays?”

“He says because Africa is the cradle of humankind. Africa is our forgotten childhood and Africa is in deep, deep pain. He says he has chosen the gays because they may be able to see clearer what others may see only through a glass darkly.”

“What s the meaning and value of ‘safe sex’?”

“He says he has given us latex as a mantra to meditate upon the depth of our alienation from each other. ‘What Nature has put together, latex shall keep apart.’ He says what we cannot see through the loss of meaning, we might after a time, be able to grasp through the loss of joy.”

The Dog fell silent for a long time. For a while, his eyelids twitched violently. Then the trembling stopped and the even breathing gradually returned.

“What to you see, Dog?” asked the Shrew.

“I see s steel ball, bristling with antennas, hurling at an incredible speed through space.”

“Ask the ball what its name is.”

“It says the name is Battle station SDI-X777”.

“Is this its real name?”

“No…the real name is… the Forgotten Anger.”

“You mean the same name as the virus?”

“Yes, it says it is one of its many disguises.  It says that because we can’t see it in its everyday garb – which is our own callousness and petty anger and mindless cruelty to each other, and to the Earth, and to our children and animals – it has to become a bit dramatic at times.”

“What are its instructions to us?”

“Stop fighting and start talking.”

“You mean, nations, men and women, gays and straights, poor and rich, humans and animals, adults and children talking to each other about the Forgotten Anger?”

“Yes.”

“So what is the ‘cure’ for AIDS?”

“It is the vaccine made from Love, Forgiveness, and Compassion.”

“Thank the Forgotten Anger for talking to us.”

“I will.”

In a few moments, the Electric Dog opened his eyes, stretched, and looked around as if waking from a deep sleep.

“That was a fine dream, Shrew,” he said. “I already feel better. When can we do another Water Shrew Meditation? But you know what? I have forgotten to ask…that…thinking… the most important question.”

“What question, Electric Dog?”

“Whether I can still have my peanut butter and jam sandwiches.

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