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Friends in Boston

It was a beautiful, breezy day. We sat on a park bench, gratefully resting from an attempt to see all of Boston in five days. An elderly man slowly approached with a large, overweight, indeterminable breed of dog on a rope leash. The man dropped his hold on the leash, and the dog, as if accustomed to a long-established routine, sat expectantly on the sidewalk in front of a bench, at one end of which was a trash container, and at the other a drinking fountain.

The man searched through the trash and found a paper plate, which he cleaned thoroughly at the fountain. Returning to the trash container, he searched for and found pieces of hamburger, pizza, potatoes, etc., thanks to a nearby fast-food market. Then he placed the heaping plate of food in front of the dog, which methodically finished every bite.

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The man then tidied up the area where the dog had eaten, and neatly disposed of the plate. He then went back to the trash container and found a large paper cup, which he washed carefully again and again until he was satisfied that it was perfectly clean. He filled the cup with water and set it before the dog, which drank as much as it could reach, after which the man refilled the cup several times until the dog had had its fill.

Turning to the bench, they both sat down upon it, the dog as well as the man in an upright position. Staring off into space, the dog contendly burped. Both heads then slowly moved over the park as they solemnly stared at every bench occupant and passer-by.

After some tine, as if at an unseen signal, they strolled away. Quiet, and close.

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