Death

My dog witnessed the death of my father.  He used to act annoyed at her existence, but, as his death approached, she became an important presence for him.  In his final weeks he'd call her to come sit with him.  He'd stroke her hair and tell her secrets.  She may have felt him weakening.  She stopped barking in his presence.  She never chewed any holes in his oxygen cord.  After his death she'd get upset whenever I tried to lounge in bed and sniff my breath searching, perhaps, for the odor of death he gave off in the end.