OK--the film My Life as a Dog is one of our family's favorites.
But I need to come clean: I watch it 3 or 4 times each year, loving its rhythm, cadence--cheered in much the same way a Chopin berceuse soothes, stirring the soul. I can only thank my family for their kindness, tolerance!
Translation:
I should have told her everything. She loved stories like that.
... ... ...
It's not so bad if you think about it. It could have been worse.
Just think how that poor guy ended up who got a new kidney in Boston.
He got his name in all the papers, but he died just the same.
And what about Laika, the space dog?
They put her in a Sputnik and sent her into space.
They attached wires to her heart and brain to see how she felt.
I don't think she felt so good.
She spun around up there for five months until her doggy bag was empty.
She starved to death.
It's important to have something like that to compare things to.
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