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They conversed in their minds; the dog seemed to understand everything the patient wished to say, even though he never spoke.
The dog then wandered off through the hospital and in the days to come the sounds of laughter, the shouts, the cries welcoming him, diminished until it seemed that the hospital was growing empty. Not only did the doctors cease visiting on Sundays, or golf Wednesdays, but they seemed not to arrive on Tuesdays or Thursdays and, finally, hardly at all on Fridays.
The echoes in the corridors grew loud and the sounds of breathing from the far rooms ceased.
On a final day the patient, feeling alert and sensing that at any moment he might arise and don his clothes without the advice of doctors and then head home, sat up in bed and called to the high corridors, “Hello! Anyone there?”
A long silence from the quiet hospital rooms. Again he cried, “Anyone there? Hello!” There were only echoes from the halls and all the avenues throughout the entire building stood still.
Very quietly, the patient began to dress in preparation to leave.
Finally, at three in the afternoon, the handsome dog with the blood-red bandana came padding by in the silent corridor and stood by the door.
The patient said, “Come in.”
The dog entered and stood by the bed.
“Sit,” said the patient.
The dog sat and gazed at him with great luminous eyes, a tender expression, a half- smile on his mouth.
Finally the patient said, “What is your name?”
The dog studied him with his great luminous eyes.
His mouth moved just the merest touch and a whisper came forth:
“Jesus,”said the dog.“That is my name. Jesus. What is yours?”