The dog took a big bite of the girl’s leg with its sharp teeth when the girl rode by on her old broke bike. I watched through the glass in our house. She flew off the bike and flat on her back to the dirt on the ground. I knew big dogs should not bite small girls in their small legs but I could not call out to the dog or to the girl. I could not speak.
The next day the dog had its life sucked out. I watched the last few breaths come up from its chest and out through its mouth. I had no way to tell if there was a sound.
Then they wrapped the dead dog in dry cloth. They drew the lines of a cross on their chests with their hands. They stepped past the spot where the girl lay in blood when the now dead dog bit her leg to bits. They did not see what I saw as they walked.
Stories in Another Language