The calling for help
Even if in reality the vileness was made by the old fleabag, I kept feeling tremendously guilty of having interrupted their magic moment, and especially having done it shortly after Italo had confided in me. At this point there was only one thing to do. Not that we had become proper friends, but after having saved her from the Doberman the relationship between Barbie and I had improved a little, sometimes we would sunbathe together or we would have fun being a team to hunt lizards. Sometimes we fought over some stuffed animal instead. Not that it was the most of life, but at least I did a bit of movement, that never hurts. I kept not giving her too much confidence though, while she now gave me the impression of getting attached a little more every day. Realising that
