[ WP ] In the canine world , humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time . The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon .

He sits on his reclining chair bent and draped in dirty white wool. I eagerly await to hear that which I have not heard in ages, my ears half-cocked for anything even remotely resembling his voice. I want to leave this room and trot the path which I have trotted a thousand times. I want to smell the jutting telephone pole at the end of our driveway, to lift my leg and shower the neighbor's now-frosted tulip flowers, to be free of his rope and run as fast as I can across the open school field directly adjacent from our house. 
 
 And I will do these things, but not with him. He seems not to care about me anymore, except for maybe with his eyes. As happened yesterday, and as will continue to happen with each day that passes, a young woman dressed in black and white will enter our home and do for me as he used to. What I am to him, he is to her. She fills his bowls with food and water, she leads him to the foul-smelling room near the front door, and should he not make it, she cleans up after him. The only time I see him disrobe his blanket and rise from his musty throne is at her request, and just as I am led by his aged rope, he is led by her thin arm. 
 
 Everyday that passes you feel farther away from me. What did I do? You did n't do this to Charlie or Hugo.... Why do you let that woman take me from the house? Do you know how much that hurts? I pull away from her not because I do n't like her, she's perfectly pleasant and often gives me more biscuits than you do, but because I know you are back here. She treats me like you used to and I hate it. 
 
 She seems to think that it hurts when I jump up on you, and I think it may hurt you, too. I do n't care. You smell like death and I will spend every last moment I can with you. If that bitch tries to pull me off I will bite her fragile arm in two. 
 
 Seven generations and I'm the last to feel your embrace. You seem especially fragile today, the glimmer of life left in your eyes reaching shades of black to which even I am not accustomed. Your skin tastes like salty dinner scraps, and I think you will leave either today or tomorrow. Until then, I will be here, my nose nestled under your hand as things used to be. 
 
 Hoping to persuade Zander from his dying master, the young woman excitedly called to him, `` Walk?''. 
 
 Zander lay motionless, not making a sound. 
 
 
 

