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ods this morning？〃
Working its jaws； industriously grinding up the biscuit； the dog seemed to have lost interest in Travis for the moment。
〃I went out there on a sentimental journey； hoping to recall the pleasure
I got from the Santa Anas when I was a boy； in the days before 。 。 。 everything
turned so dark。 I wanted to kill a few snakes like I did when I was a kid；
hike and explore and feel in tune with life like in the old days。 Because for
a long time now； I haven't cared whether I live or die。〃
The dog stopped chewing； swallowed hard； and focused on Travis with undivided attention。
〃Lately； my depressions have been blacker than midnight on the moon。 Do you understand about depression； pooch？〃
Leaving the Milk…Bone biscuits behind； the retriever got up and came to him。 It gazed into his eyes with that unnerving directness and intensity that it had shown before。
Meeting its stare； he said； 〃Wouldn't consider suicide； though。 For one thing； I was raised a Catholic； and though I haven't gone to Mass in ages； I still sort of believe。 And for a Catholic； suicide is a mortal sin。 Murder。 Besides； I'm too mean and too stubborn to give up； no matter how dark things get。〃
The retriever blinked but did not break eye contact。
〃I was in those woods searching for the happiness I once knew。 And then I ran into you。〃
〃Woof；〃 it said； as if it were saying； Good。
He took its head in both his hands； lowered his face to it； and said； 〃Depression。 A feeling that existence was pointless。 How would a dog know about
those things； hmmm？ A dog has no worries； does it？ To a dog； every day is a joy。 So do you really understand what I'm talking about； boy？ Honest to God； I think maybe you do。 But am I crediting you with too much intelligence； too much wisdom even for a magical dog？ Huh？ Sure； you can do some amazing tricks； but that's not the same as understanding me。〃
The retriever pulled away from him and returned to the Milk…Bone package。 It took the bag in its teeth and shook out twenty or thirty biscuits onto the linoleum。
〃There you go again；〃 Travis said。 〃One minute； you seem half human… and the next minute you're just a dog with a dog's interests。〃
However； the retriever was not seeking a snack。 It began to push the biscuits around with the black tip of its snout； maneuvering them into the open center of the kitchen floor one at a time； ordering them neatly end to end。
〃What the hell is this？〃
The dog had five biscuits arranged in a row that gradually curved to the right； it pushed a sixth into place； emphasizing the curve。
As he watched； Travis hastily finished his first beer and opened the second。 He had a feeling he was going to need it。
The dog studied the row of biscuits for a moment； as if not quite sure what it had begun to do。 It padded back and forth a few times； clearly uncertain； but eventually nudged two more biscuits into line。 It looked at Travis； then at the shape it was creating on the floor； then nosed a ninth biscuit into place。
Travis sipped some beer and waited tensely to see what would happen next。 With a shake of its head and a snort of frustration； the dog went to the far end of the room and stood facing into the corner； its head hung low。 Travis wondered what it was doing； and then somehow he got the idea that it had gone into the corner in order to concentrate。 After a while； it returned and pushed the tenth and eleventh Milk…Bones into place； enlarging the pattern。
He was stricken again by the premonition that something of great importance was about to happen。 Gooseflesh dimpled his arms。
This time he was not disappointed。 The golden retriever used nineteen biscuits to form a crude but recognizable question mark on the kitchen floor； then raised its expressive eyes to Travis。
A question mark。
Meaning： Why？ Why have you been so depressed？ Why do you feel life is pointless； empty？
The dog apparently understood what he had told it。 All right； okay； so maybe it didn't understand language exactly； didn't follow every word that he spoke； but it somehow perceived the meaning of what he was saying； or at least enough of the meaning to arouse its interest and curiosity。
And； by God； if it also understood the purpose of a question mark； then it was capable of abstract thinking！ The very concept of simple symbols… like alphabets； numbers； question marks； and exclamation points…serving as shorthand for municating plex ideas 。 。 。 well； that required abstract thinking。 And abstract thinking was reserved for only one species on earth： humankind。 This golden retriever was demonstrably not human； but somehow it had e into possession of intellectual skills that no other animal could claim。
Travis was stunned。 But there was nothing accidental about the question mark。 Crude but not accidental。 Somewhere； the dog must have seen the
symbol and been taught its meaning。 Statistical theorists said an infinite number of monkeys； equipped with an infinite number of typewriters； would eventually be able to recreate every line of great English prose merely by random chance。 He figured that this dog forming a Milk…Bone question mark in about two minutes flat； merely by purest chance； was about ten times as unlikely as all those damn monkeys recreating Shakespeare's plays。
The dog was watching him expectantly。
Getting up； he found he was a bit shaky in the legs。 He went to the carefully arranged biscuits； scattered them across the floor； and returned to his chair。
The retriever studied the disarranged Milk…Bones； regarded Travis inquiringly； sniffed at the biscuits again； and seemed baffled。
Travis waited。
The house was unnaturally quiet； as if the flow of time had been suspended for every living creature； machine； and object on earth…though not for him； the retriever； or the contents of the kitchen。
At last； the dog began to push the biscuits around with its nose as it had done before。 In a minute or two； it formed a question mark。
Travis chugged some Coors。 His heart was hammering。 His palms were sweaty。 He was filled with both wonder and trepidation； with both wild joy and fear of the unknown； simultaneously awestricken and bewildered。 He wanted to laugh because he had never seen anything half as delightful as this dog。 He also wanted to cry because only hours ago he'd thought life was bleak； dark； and pointless。 But no matter how painful it was sometimes； life was （he now realized） nonetheless precious。 He actually felt as if God had sent the retriever to intrigue him； to remind him that the world was full of surprises and that despair made no sense when one had no understanding of the purpose…and strange possibilities…of existence。 Travis wanted to laugh； but his laughter teetered on the brink of a sob。 Yet when he surrendered to the sob； it became a laugh。 When he attempted to stand； he knew that he was even shakier than before； too shaky； so he did the only thing he could do： he stayed in his chair and took another long swallow of Coors。
Cocking its head one way and then the other； looking slightly wary； the dog watched him as if it thought he had gone mad。 He had。 Months ago。 But he was all better now。
He put down the Coors a