ORION SAINT / LITERARY FICTIONLiterary fiction
DOG = GOD
The ordinary work of loving someone.
Steve thinks he has adopted a shelter dog. The dog has a different understanding of the arrangement.
His human needs regular meals, daily walks, less time on his phone, and company when the house goes quiet. Fortunately, the dog has experience with sitting.
A story of grief, unlikely friendship, and the small acts that bring us back to one another. The collected edition includes the novel, epilogue, and companion pieces.
Collected English edition · 124 pages
FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITION
He Smelled Like Bread and Sadness
The shelter described itself as a place of new beginnings. This was printed above the door through which people left without us.
I had been there nineteen days. Thirty-eight meals, allowing for the afternoon they forgot and the additional scoop the evening volunteer gave me when she discovered it. Humans regard apologies as a form of nourishment. That woman understood the limits of the arrangement.
My card said BUDDY. Below this were three facts about me, two of which had been disputed by the staff. I was a shepherd mix, a Labrador mix, or an administrative inconvenience. My age was ADULT. There was room on the card for a more precise answer, but nobody had used it.
One of my ears stood up. The other had considered the available evidence and declined. My coat was the colour of toast after the conversation has become more interesting than the toast. Visitors said I had kind eyes. They usually said this on their way to a younger dog.
To my left, Biscuit was conducting a campaign against the existence of walls. To my right, Daisy shook even when she slept. Across the aisle, Murray, a Great Dane, stood with his forehead against the bars. Of all of us, Murray had the least spare dog to turn around in.
A LETTER WHEN THERE IS A STORY
Keep a place
on the shelf.
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