CARL HERST had a very broad face, prominent cheek and jaw bones, and sunken eyes. My brother wanted to buy a dog from him. He lived in Olivos and we went to see the dog. When we arrived at the house, Carl Herst himself opened the door. He made us go straight to his study. There we sat down and drank cold beer; he spoke to us at length about his breeding program, how much work was involved, the animals’ pedigree, and the importance of proper feeding.
He went to the back of the yard in search of Fulo (that was the name of the dog he wanted to sell to my brother) and we stayed behind looking around the room. On the walls, there were photographs in golden frames, all of them of dogs; the picture frames on the tables had photographs of hairless dogs, hairy dogs, dogs in groups, by themselves, midgets, very tall ones, long ones like sausages, pug-nosed ones with moonlike faces, mothers and children, siblings, all ages. In a half-open album I glimpsed collections of snapshots, also of dogs: in the countryside, in the city, running, sitting, lying down. When Carl Herst arrived with Fulo, my brother and I were laughing, but I soon stopped laughing because the animal scared me. He had a huge jaw and cold, round eyes.
“Is he fierce?” I asked.
“He’s very good,” Herst answered, “and very loyal.”
After discussing the price, my brother decided we would come back the next day.
The next day there wasn’t anybody home when we arrived, but a neighbor told us that the gentleman had said we should walk around to the backyard if we wanted the dog. We went to the end of the yard where there was a cyclone fence and, inside the fence, a large and well-appointed wooden doghouse. Trembling, I followed my brother. We went in through a little iron door with peeling paint. The dogs looked at us in a friendly way, and Fulo came running over. Then he went into the doghouse, and my brother followed. I peered in from the outside. My eyes rested on a picture hanging on a white wall. I looked at it intently: it was a photograph of Carl Herst.
On the other walls there were plates hanging with inscriptions such as, “What dog is like a friend?” “Love men, take care of them, they are part of your soul.” “I have a friend—what else matters?” “When you feel alone don’t seek another dog.” “Man won’t betray you, a dog will.” “A man never lies.”