Serge the dog leans his full, bony weight against me and lifts his lean skull to look up to me with soulful eyes while his owner continues to talk. My dog sits patiently nearby on the cold wet sidewalk, not too far away, but far enough that she doesn't have to interact if she doesn't want to (and she doesn't want to).
"Oh, he was just such a lovely dog," Serge's owner says, referring to another pet of hers dead more than forty-five years. "He was sitting in the foyer, watching the kids come up for Halloween, just so delighted, and by Thanksgiving he was gone."
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