Two weeks after my arrival, Fox died
Just after sunset
I was stretched out on the bed

when he approached
and tried painfully to jump up
He wagged his tail nervously.


Since the beginning
he hadn't touched his bowl once

He had lost a lot of weight
I helped him to settle on my lap
For a few seconds, he looked at me

with a curious mixture of exhaustion and apology
Then, calmed, he closed his eyes
Two minutes later he gave out his last breath.


I buried him inside the residence
at the western extremity of the land

surrounded by the protective fence
next to his predecessors
During the night, a rapid transport from the Central City

dropped off an identical dog
They knew the codes and how to work the barrier
I didn't have to get up to greet them

A small white and ginger mongrel came toward me
wagging its tail
I gestured to him

He jumped on the bed and stretched out beside me.

Love is simple to define

but it seldom happens in the series of beings
Through these dogs we pay homage to love
And to its possibility.


What is a dog but a machine for loving
You introduce him to a human being,

giving him the mission to love
And however ugly, perverse, deformed or stupid
this human being might be

The dog loves him.
The dog loves him.