I am in the country walking with my beloved dog, Rusty. As usual, she is off the leash. I am reading a war story. It ends by telling how men, when desperate for cover, would dive down in the latrine area, only to be stained with shit. Just as I read this my hand is fouled by human waste streaked on the ground. I wash it off in a large pool of fresh clear water. The dog swims in the water. She is happy, though somewhat nervous and high-strung, as was her nature. We continue walking and arrive at a wealthy residential area. It is safe and quiet and there is much greenery. I wear blue jeans and walk with much confidence. The dog, as was her way, romps and sprints ahead. We arrive at a store, which is closed. The dog jumps up on a small landing. I pet her and she places her arm on mine and nuzzles me. There is a profoundly strong and shared sense of happiness and well-being. In fact, the sense of love is the deepest I have felt in a long, long time. Then a young married couple oogle and awe and pet the dog and the spell is broken. We continue walking and it is good, but the intense feeling of love is lost.