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He
woke
up
sometime
after
three
the
next
morning
and
shuffled
to
the
bathroom
.
He
was
standing
there
urinating
,
blinking
owlishly
in
the
bright
white
fluorescent
bathroom
light
,
when
the
discrepancy
suddenly
showed
up
in
his
mind
,
and
his
eyes
widened
--
it
was
as
if
two
pieces
of
something
which
should
have
fitted
together
perfectly
had
instead
thudded
against
one
another
and
rebounded
.
Tonight
Jud
had
told
him
that
his
dog
had
died
when
he
was
ten
--
had
died
of
infection
after
being
scraped
up
in
a
snarl
of
rusty
barbed
wire
.
But
on
the
late-summer
day
when
all
of
them
had
walked
up
to
the
Pet
Sematary
together
,
Jud
said
that
his
dog
had
died
of
old
age
and
was
buried
there
--
he
had
even
pointed
out
the
marker
,
although
the
years
had
worn
the
inscription
away
.
Louis
flushed
the
toilet
,
turned
out
the
light
,
and
went
back
to
bed
.
Something
else
was
wrong
,
as
well
--
and
in
a
moment
he
had
it
.
Jud
had
been
born
with
the
century
,
and
that
day
at
the
Pet
Sematary
he
had
told
Louis
his
dog
had
died
during
the
first
year
of
the
Great
War
.
That
would
have
been
when
Jud
was
fourteen
,
if
he
had
meant
when
the
war
actually
started
in
Europe
.
When
he
was
seventeen
,
if
he
had
meant
when
America
entered
the
war
.
But
tonight
he
had
said
that
Spot
died
when
he
,
Jud
,
was
ten
.
Well
,
he
's
an
old
man
,
and
old
men
get
confused
in
their
memories
,
he
thought
uneasily
He
's
said
himself
that
he
's
noticed
signs
of
increasing
forgetfulness
--
groping
for
names
and
addresses
that
used
to
come
to
him
easily
,
sometimes
getting
up
in
the
morning
and
having
no
memory
of
the
chores
he
planned
to
do
just
the
night
before
.
For
a
man
of
his
age
,
he
's
getting
off
pretty
goddamned
light
...
senility
's
probably
too
strong
a
word
for
it
in
Jud
's
case
;
forgetfulness
is
actually
better
,
more
accurate
.
Nothing
too
surprising
about
a
man
forgetting
when
a
dog
died
some
seventy
years
ago
.
Or
the
circumstances
in
which
it
died
,
for
that
matter
.
Forget
it
,
Louis
.
But
he
was
n't
able
to
fall
asleep
again
right
away
;
for
a
long
while
he
lay
awake
,
too
conscious
of
the
empty
house
and
the
wind
that
whined
around
the
eaves
outside
it
.
At
some
point
he
slept
without
even
being
aware
that
he
had
gone
over
the
edge
;
it
must
have
been
so
,
because
as
he
slipped
away
,
it
seemed
to
him
that
he
heard
bare
feet
slowly
climbing
the
stairs
and
that
he
thought
,
Let
me
alone
,
Pascow
,
let
me
alone
,
what
's
done
is
done
and
what
's
dead
is
dead
--
and
the
steps
faded
away
.
And
although
a
great
many
other
inexplicable
things
happened
as
that
year
darkened
,
Louis
was
never
bothered
by
the
specter
of
Victor
Pascow
again
,
either
waking
or
dreaming
.
