Arnie

He appeared in the middle of the summer in a village one day, as do all dogs like him.

Frightened, hungry, and alone. Incredibly lonely.

He hid in the tyards of one of the neighborhoods, and went out every night to the tavern, begging from afar, like a ghost. He was caught very easily, with some bread thrown at him by the grandmother who sometimes fed him.

On it he had thousands of ticks, thousands, large and small, and dozens of horseflies. He may have kept sheep until recently, he may not have done his job well, he may have done it, although it does not seem like a dog that has any tendency to protect anything but its dignity.

He is a calm, proud dog with whiskers, waiting to come out of the cage to go to the toilet, and then turns back to it and stays and looks at you silently, never bothering either. He is very young, and very handsome in a way of his own, which makes you observe him without him trying at all for it.