asleep in his room, when Minnie and her first litter were settling down for the
night, Einstein and Travis and Nora gathered at the pantry off the kitchen.
The scrabble-tile dispenser was gone. In its place, an IBM computer stood on the
floor. Einstein took a stylus in his mouth and tapped the keyboard. The message
appeared on the screen:
THEY GROW UP FAST.
“Yes, they do,” Nora said. “Yours faster than ours.”
ONE DAY THEY WILL BE EVERYWHERE.
“One day, given time and a lot of litters,” Travis said, “they’ll be all over
the world.”
SO FAR FROM ME. IT’S A SADNESS.
“Yes, it is,” Nora said. “But all young birds fly from the nest sooner or
later.”
AND WHEN I’M GONE?
“What do you mean?” Travis asked, stooping and ruffling the dog’s thick coat.
WILL THEY REMEMBER ME?
“Oh yes, fur face,” Nora said, kneeling and hugging him. “As long as there are
dogs and as long as there are people fit to walk with them, they will all
remember you.”