Our Walks

Monday, February 9, 2009: I remember our walks. When I least expect it, I see Chiquito and me walking down the streets of Vicente Lopez. He and I are walking down to the Rio de La Plata or the train station. The computer that I was using broke and I cannot fix it. I cannot write about Chiquito–about us–the way I want to. But I remember him. To me, to my heart, my little aristocratic dog is still alive and well. He never had anemia. He never died.

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