Some members of my family and I had arrived at a sports arena to watch a sporting event. We were early and had our choice of almost any seats we wanted in the stadium. As we settled in, we began arranging several large pillows which we had brought with us. At the same time, I noticed my pet Dalmatian Chaucer and my pet Dalmatian Picasso weren't with us. I immediately became concerned, afraid something might have happened to the dogs. Since I thought my father was supposed to be looking out for the dogs, I thought I should immediately find him and see what he knew about them.

***

I was standing in a small cramped room, talking with my father, who was standing in front of me. He was a young black man (probably in his mid 20s). He wasn't wearing a shirt and was displaying a muscular torso. As I talked with him, I was becoming increasingly frustrated. It appeared that he had negligently allowed the dogs to be taken by the dogcatcher. Now he showed little interest in helping me recoup them. He indicated that we wouldn't be able to talk to the dogcatcher for another day or two, and that by that time the dogs might either have been given away or disposed of. I could hardly bear the thought. It was hard to imagine what might happen to the dogs. They might be held in tiny cages or be mistreated. I was so angry I told my father that if we didn't get the dogs back, "I'll hate you for the rest of my life."

It appeared that I wouldn't even be able to talk with the dogcatcher, but I was determined that I was going to find out what had happened to my dogs. If necessary, I might try to contact someone else who worked in the office of the dogcatcher. I might even have to try to bribe someone into telling me where my dogs were. I might pay as much $1,000 to find out.

***

I had found out that my dogs had been given to a family, and I was now standing in front of the door of the family's house. However now I was only looking for one dog, which I called "Dac" (the name of a Dalmatian I had owned about 25 years before). When the door opened, a young man invited me in. A couple children were playing on the floor, and the house had a clean wholesome atmosphere. I immediately hollered out "Dac!"

My pet Dalmatian ran out of another room toward me and excitedly danced around in front of me. However I immediately saw that my dog wasn't as effusive as I would have expected. I wondered if he could have started forgetting about me so quickly and whether he had begun acclimating himself to his new home. If that were the case, perhaps it would be best if I left him with this family. Clearly he wasn't being mistreated. My biggest concern had been that he would be locked up and given no attention. But he was obviously free to run around the house. He even had two other dogs here with which to play.

One of the other dogs was a small fluffy white dog. But the second dog was rather strange. It was about the size of a mouse. It was gray like a mouse, but had long hair covering its tiny body, so I couldn't see its features. I sat down on the floor and picked it up. I let it run back and forth from one hand to the other.

Suddenly, as I sat on the floor, I realized someone had lumbered up beside me — my brother Chris. He was moving very slow, somewhat like a gorilla might move. Without hesitation, he sat down right in my lap. He looked about 16 years old. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt and light gray sweat pants. I was extremely happy to see him. It had been so long and I had missed him so much. I asked, "How are you, feller?"

He replied, "Fine."

I wrapped both my arms around him and began hugging him. As I held him as tightly as I could, an intense sense of ecstasy came over me. Holding him in my arms seemed to be one of the most pleasurable feelings I could imagine.

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