Rupert’s aunt stared out of the window at the little boy playing with a large dog. It was friendly, but moved stiffly.
“That’s the dog you got Rupert for his birthday?” she asked her sister. “Why not a puppy? That dog looks as if he’s only got a few more years before he’ll need to be put to sleep and poor Rupert will be so sad.”
“I know. That’s why we chose him.”
And the one before him.
Until Rupert was trained not to mind when they died, he’d never be trusted with a puppy.
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