The old man huddled closer. The canine whimpered and watched him, eyes wide and chin rested upon the bench. He sat beside it, and stroked its neck; it was soft. And warm. Soft fur ruffled between his fingers. Wrapped around its neck was a broad striped collar – a single rusting medallion dangling from it. “Blaze?” asked the old man, inspecting the medallion closely. “A nice name.” Blaze blinked, uninterested. “I had a dog once too,” said the old man, crossing his legs under the dim street lamp that flickered above. “Teddy was his name. A German Shepherd,” he laughed, scratching his neck. “Just like you.” Blaze whimpered softly at the sound of his name. “He was, I must confess, rather livelier than you, though,” he chuckled. Blaze blinked. “Ah, those days. They were so different, so much better I must say.” The old man looked around despicably. This new…