She is surrounded by things and he has to climb over them to get into her lap. Something has frightened her and he can’t figure out what it is. He has sniffed every corner, listened hard, and nothing external seems to be amiss. It is inside of her, this thing that has caused her to breathe as if she’s been running, this thing that has produced streaks of wet down her cheeks. Once again, he feels as though he needs a human tongue to make this outburst stop. He has only his dog tongue and he uses it lavishly to stanch the panic.