The morning sun appears once again. Not all is lost.
The lair of Dog 163, captured in a no-look hipshot:
Looking behind me as I walk home, I first see a passing dog and its person and then, upon closer inspection, what appears to be an old acquaintance, five years unseen and possibly deceased, waiting at the distant street crossing. But by the time I backtrack, he has disappeared. But I have documented the apparition.
