In Wortley, England, a well-brushed, playful, black Pomeranian dog followed, six years ago, the coffin of his master to its pit in the local cemetery. Clods fell on the coffin. He wagged his tail. His master was down there, hiding. Last week the dog, shaggy now and truculent, lame with age, his coat gnarled and his old bones stiff, stretched out to die. For six years, fed by marveling neighbors, he had kept watch over the grave.
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