Fernando Guízar Pimentel

Lack of sense and sensibility

One afternoon, Monsieur Lefèvre, owner of a restaurant, noticed the presence

of a black, medium sized dog sitting near the open door by the sidewalk. He
stared at Lefèvre with his nice brown eyes, wich reflected the wish of winning
his friendship. Even his face resembled the one of a beggar

The dog, noticing the deep gaze of the man, wagged his tail, raised his head
and opened his snout in such a funny way that it seemed like he smiled. The
frenchman couldn’t help to smile the dog back and, for a moment, he felt as if a
ray of sunshine penetrated his heart. Wagging his tail faster, the dog rose
slightly and moved a few inches towards the door, but didn’t came into the
restaurant.

Considering that attitude extremely polite for a starving dog living in the streets,
Lefèvre, an animal lover, couldn’t pull himself together and took a steak from a
recently retired dish, wich the costumer had barely touched. Holding it between
his fingers and lifting it, he stared at the dog and invited him to get closer to take
it. The animal seemed so excited that his entire body was shaking and licked
the edges of his snout several times.

Nevertheless, the dog didn’t step in, despite understanding, without a doubt,
that the steak was destined to dissapear within his stomach. Forgetting his
business and his customers, the frenchman came out from back of the bar and
approached the door with the steak, which he shook a few times before
dropping it right above the dog’s snout.

The dog took it rather smoothly, with a thankful look in his eyes, before
proceeding to lay on the sidewalk and began to eat with what seemed like a
peace of mind exclusive of someone who enjoys of a perfectly clean
conscience. As soon as he finished, he got up, approached the door, and sat
near the door, waiting for Lefévre to feel his presence again. As the man turned
to him, the dog stood up, wagged his tail, smiled and shook his ears
The frenchman thought the animal was coming to ask for another bite. But by
the time approached the door with a huge chicken leg, he found out the dog had
disappeared. Then he realized the dog had returned with the only purpose of
thanking him because, otherwise, he would have waited to get what he wanted.

Almost forgetting the incident immediatly, Lefèvre considered the dog one more
among the legion of homeless dogs that visit restaurants from time to time,
looping under the tables and standing next to the clients to beg for a bite, before
being thrown away by the waitresses.

The next day, however, about the same time, half past three o'clock, the dog
returned and sat by the same spot as the day before. Monsieur Lefèvre, seeing
him sitting there, smiled as if they were old friend and the dog smiled him back.
When the animal noticed the friendly welcome, he stood up, wagged his tail and
smiled as wide as possible, while his tongue rested upon his lower jaw.

The frenchman invited him in with a whistle, so he could get closer to the
counter to take his food for free. The dog just took a step forward, without ever
entering. It was clear he refrained from coming inside not because of fear, but
due to the innate wisdom of certain animals who understand some places are
just not aproppiate for themselves, as they tend to live outdoors. Lefèvre
snapped his fingers to make the dog understand he must wait some minutes
before a dish of meat was taken back from a table. The dog seemed to
understand that kind of “digital language”.

Five minuted later, a waitress retreived on a tray the dishes from some tables,
so the owner summoned her and took a huge rib roast from a dish, approached
the dog, shook it for a few seconds and finally gave it to him . The dog took it as
gently as a child and, just like the previous day, he went a liittle far away to lay
down on the sidewalk and enjoy his meal.

Monsieur Lefèvre, recalling the peculiar gesture of the dog the day before, felt
curiousity to know what would he do this time once he finished eating. When he
was about to bet with a client that the dog would stand up to thank him, he saw
the shadow of the animal near the entrance. He glimpsed with the corner of his
eye, intentionally avoiding to watch him fully. He turned around, pretending to
clean the shelves, but still trying to spy on the dog. He wanted to see how long
could the dog wait to express “Thanks, see you tomorrow” in his own, peculiar
way.

Perhaps two or three minutes passed before the frenchman decided to face the
animal. When he finally did it, the dog rose immediately, wagged his tail, smiled
widely and disappeared. From that day on, Lefévre always had prepared a juicy
piece of meat for the dog, taken straight from the remains of special orders. The
animal came everyday with British punctuality, always half past three o'clock.
Five or six weeks passed without any changes and the frenchman had come to
consider the black animal as his most loyal costumer and as his own pet

One day, Monsieur Lefèvre was terribly insulted by a customer, whom he had
served such a hard bread roll that he broke a tooth. The frenchman was furious
with the waitress and fired her immediately. She went to a corner to mourn
bitterly. It wasn’t entirely her fault, alter all; she could have noticed the hardness
of the piece of bread but, wouldn’t squeezing the bread to check its freshness
be considered unsanitary?

The guilt also fell upon the baker, who got a frantic call from Lefévre, only to be
insulted. The baker defended himself and called the frenchman a crazy bastard,
starting an exchange of degrading views that ended when Lefèvre hung up the
phone.

Still in frenzy, the owner went back to the counter only to find his canine friend
arriving on time to get his daily meal. By watching the dog sitting there, quiet
and innocent, apparently free from any worries, the french, blinded by anger
and seized by a sudden impulse, took the hard bread roll and threw it towards
the animal with all his strength.

The dog had clearly seen the movement of the man. He watched carefully as he
took the piece of bread with his right hand and threw it towards him. He could
have easily avoided the blow if he had wished it, as living in the streets had
forced him to develop a special survival instinct. A simple head movement
would have been enough to avoid the hit. However, he did not move.
Firmly setting his soft, brown eyes on Lefèvre, without a blink, accepted the
blow bravely. He stood still, stunned, not for the hit, but rather because
something he would haved believed impossible happened.

The bread roll fell a short distance from his two front legs. The dog didn’t look it
as a dead thing, but as a living one that would jump over him at any time.
Maybe he wanted to convince himself that the roll arrived by itself, with its own
motion, so he could justify his friend’s attitude.

After a few seconds, he put his gaze away from the roll and set it firmly over the
frenchman’s eyes, like magnetizad. There was no sign of accusation in those
eyes, but a deep, sorrowful look wich reflected the sadness of one who has
unconditionally trusted in someone’s friendship is unexpectedly betrayed
without any justification

Suddenly, realizing what he had done, Lefèvre was as startled as if he had

killed a human being. He stared for a few seconds at the door with an
expression of complete emptiness in his eyes. With a quick movement, he took
a steak from some client’s dish and, waving it, went running down the street
after his hurt friend.

After following him for half an hour through thirteen blocks, Lefèvre lost him out
of sight among the crowded street. The dog was never spotted again in the
neighborhood.