Then a thought comes to me. I remember the morning after the Thing appeared. I remember that the dog licked my hand. A horrible fear has come to me. My brain seems numbed with the sheer horror of this new fear.
Time moves on, unheeded.
In my heart, I have no doubt. Hour after hour, I sit in the darkness and silence, and shiver, hopelessly. . . . . . . The day has come and gone, and it is night again. This morning, early, I shot the dog, and buried it, away among the bushes. Besides, it is better so.