Considerations on the Death of a Dog. Jean Grenier

die from?” It’s certain he will die, but we have to provide a name for that death. That’s what worries doctors; isn’t it what everyone worries about? After a result they declare to be “fatal,” and whose fatality should cut short any desire for further research, they begin an inquiry to discover the assassin! But the assassin is nature, and it is she who, from our very first day, makes us a gift of the last.

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      There were contradictory diagnoses. The veterinarian recommended by a writer who hates mankind but loves animals (the two go hand in hand, hatred seeking to justify itself) thought it was a simple “problem of the digestive system.” But after “forty-five years of practice,” he was too sure of himself. What was needed was a moment of intuition.

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      In the end, we didn’t abandon him. He followed us on this last trip as in all those that preceded, sitting in the back of the car, next to a window that had to be kept open so he could stick his head outside, curious like all dogs of the varied spectacle of the road, sleeping at night on that same back seat. The difficulties began when we arrived at the hotel.

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      The most tiring trip was the one to Venice. Because we couldn’t bring the car into the city, it had to be left in this immense garage, high up on a hill, which the Venetians are so proud of. We took off in a gondola with our luggage and the dog, only somewhat reassured. Along the way something I had never seen before occurred—a fish jumped into the boat (which was traveling very near the surface of the water). The gondolier wanted to grab it. But the dog, faster than he was, caught hold of it. “That was my dinner!” the man said regretfully. At the hotel, there was never any food for the dog. After taking him for a walk along the narrow streets, I had to stop at a latteria, where, before the scandalized but silent staff, I ordered two yogurts, one of which the dog ate.

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      If yet another proof of the diversity of customs were needed, you would find it when crossing different countries with an animal. In Switzerland, they would be shocked to see you traveling with a dog. “What! Is that allowed now?” Switzerland had just lifted a ban, no doubt the result of some ideal of safety and control. Foreign dogs could now travel with their owners; their presence was simply added to their passport at the border. Besides, everyone in Switzerland likes animals, although they want to reconcile that love with the utmost concern for hygiene. In Italy, dogs are not very well regarded (humans already have enough difficulty in the matter). Ungaretti, seeing a dog climb into a gondola, yelled out “Anche il cane!” But in his case the feeling of surprise was spontaneous.