In Thailand, I saw a dog that had been hit by a car in the middle of a busy road near the shopping mall in Sriracha. This was not uncommon. There were many stray dogs; they roamed the streets in packs at night: narrow, hungry bones with skin. Often they were hit. This dog was not dead although it soon would be. It was a she. Above her stood another dog, his legs posted like columns, surrounding her. He faced forward, head up, unmoving. The cars swerved around them, honking their horns, and yet he did not budge, and she looked up at him with sad, sad eyes. I saw this from the back of a tuk tuk, passing by, the driver beeping in disgust, and I burst into tears.
This is a true story. It was the most romantic thing I have ever seen.
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