I am the middle brother in a Minho family and I have lost two dogs. Their names were Nero, they were murdered. The first one died crushed in the middle of the body by the back wheels of a truck. It was my first hit-and-run experience and I did not know it and for me that driver would forever have the face of Carey Loftin, Duel's invisible double. My brother insisted on carrying the dog alone and when we arrived he let me deposit very carefully with him the dead dog on our porch and then we stood still and cried. My brother's clothing was still dripping from the dog's blood explosion. The other Nero ate poisoned meat from the neighbor on the eve of John Paul II coming to Braga, and neither he nor we even knew the name of Ali Agca, which we would learn the day after. The dog wanted to die at home so it came dragging in the foam, trembling, convulsed and confused, my father flew and came back with a bottle and he poured the bottle in the inert open mouth of the dog that already had the dead tongue hanging. Then he slowly deposited the dog's blind head on the ground and screamed without me being able to hear that he was going to kill the neighbor, but he fell, as if he had Pamplinas’s legs, skating in the puddle of olive oil that dripped from the dog's dead face. Many years later I woke up to smiling, I was six years old, I was the neighbor of little Victor Frankenstein and I was waiting with him on the roof at night for the fantastic rays of resuscitation. Sofia Coppola was also in it. (José Miguel Gaspar)