Solitude teaches us to see things better. Because of the isolation, the house was given over to his literary reveries and the barking of the little dog who was burying socks in the garden. Although he was closer to death than the little canid, he suffered, stupidly, wondering what would become of him when the pet dies. He loved raw sardines. He believed dogs had souls. He appreciated talking to people, and the dead ones were the best listeners.
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