1.<\/p>\n
There was a time \u2014 I\u2019m not sure how long it went on\u00a0\u2014 when I lost interest. I simply forgot about him. I\u00a0would walk around the garden under the pretext of\u00a0waiting for the veterinarian who was coming to administer\u00a0his shot, or go to the kitchen to eat, for my\u00a0appetite was greater than usual, something a night\u00a0spent half awake, half asleep was unable to fully explain.\u00a0I could do as I pleased during this small lapse\u00a0of time, which I knew to be merely an interlude, as if\u00a0I had come to the surface to breathe the air that would\u00a0keep me alive. Returning to my room, I would again\u00a0fall into a deep sleep.<\/p>\n
2.<\/p>\n
The dog\u2019s suffering had surpassed whatever my emotions\u00a0were able to bear. I had nothing left in reserve,\u00a0I was running on empty. He was alive still, panting in\u00a0a corner, his eyes half-closed. A short while ago, I was\u00a0stunned to see him stand and walk toward me. I held\u00a0his head as I stroked his nose with my free hand. He\u00a0stood there for a long time, a very long time. I said\u00a0nothing, and he remained motionless, his gaze directed\u00a0at my own. There was nothing I could do for\u00a0him. But he didn\u2019t know this and I was tormented by\u00a0the idea that he may have believed I possessed some\u00a0unlimited power, a power whose effectiveness he had\u00a0experienced in so many other circumstances.<\/p>\n
3.<\/p>\n
He was about to leave me for good. Did he know how\u00a0much I needed him? Not only his constant presence,\u00a0his company during my walks and our dinners, but\u00a0(and this is even stranger still) whenever we were\u00a0separated from one another. At night I would think\u00a0about him as I fell asleep, the way we do with a tutelary\u00a0deity that helps us ward off fear. He was my connection\u00a0with nature at large, whose savagery and immensity\u00a0frightened me; through him I came to know\u00a0only its serenity, the drowsy silences, the satisfactions,\u00a0freed of anxiety or regret, the blanket of sunshine\u00a0unfolding before our eyes, the water welling beneath\u00a0our feet. He made me, in imitation of himself,\u00a0wholly present to . . .<\/p>\n
4.<\/p>\n
Returning to the house, where I would find him, I\u00a0would grow impatient \u2014 the result of some natural\u00a0contradiction \u2014 with the thought that I would have to\u00a0take him out. I was in some ways his servant. There\u00a0were times when I believed I had been freed of any obligation,\u00a0although this was not true as far as he was\u00a0concerned. It was a sacrifice, but one that was immediately\u00a0repaid. I no longer had to think about anything,\u00a0I allowed myself to be led.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n