A Wolf At the Table: a Memoir of My Father

Cover A Wolf At the Table: a Memoir of My Father
What games did the girls play? Did the doll parents scream at each other? Did the doll family have a dog and did it have to sleep outside? And did the doll children have a dollhouse of their own? Was this dollhouse a mirror held up to a mirror, reflecting itself back forever?
    THE GROWTH IN Grover’s mouth began to bleed. Rivulets of blood clung to the whiskers beneath his chin, as though he’d recently consumed a bit of prey. Grover had always patrolled the deck like a small officer. He alert
...ed us to cars, dogs, people out for a walk.
    Now, Grover lay in the shade, his back pressed against the cool sliding glass door. I discovered the bleeding when he licked my hand and left a swath of blood behind, death’s autograph.
    I knew if we didn’t get him help soon, he would die. But maybe that would be for the best. Because his life had been no kind of life at all. Always sitting out there on the deck, watching the other dogs inside, through the glass.
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