A Machine for Loving

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 beside 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