Friday, November 30, 2007: Last night I went to see Leo, my former dog. He looked at me and did not recognize me. His new owner urged him to be nice to me, to kiss me like he used to, but it was no good. I was history. The guy slept on my bed, was jealous of my little girl cat and now he does not know who I am–or was. Maybe their memory is not as long as ours–the people who owned and took care of them. We remember them long after they leave us, but they do not always return the favor.
My dog Rubio missed me a lot when I had to leave him in the care of others, but the last people–those are the ones he fell in love with. And then they dumped him. It was very sad for him because he would drag me back to their house. He´d smell their car, the car tires, the front door. That was heartbreaking for him–and me.