Observations placeholder

As quoted in Gabriel Delanne's - Materials for use in the study of REINCARNATION 

I have a five-year-old dog that I raised myself. I have always loved animals, especially dogs. The one in question gives me back my affection so much that I can't go anywhere, not even leave my room, without him constantly following me. He is a terrible mouse hunter, and since the back kitchen is sometimes frequented by these rodents, I had placed a very convenient couchette for Frido in it. In the same room was a furnace, including an oven for baking bread, as well as a boiler for laundry, equipped with a pipe that led to the chimney. I never failed, in the evening, to accompany the dog to his bunk before I retired. I had undressed and was about to go to bed, when I was suddenly seized with an unexplainable feeling of imminent danger. I couldn't think of anything but fire and the impression was so strong that I finally gave in. I got dressed, went downstairs and decided to visit the apartment, room by room, to make sure that everything was in order.

When I entered the back kitchen I did not see Frido; assuming that he had been able to get out of there and go to the upper floor, I called him, but in vain. I immediately went to my sister-in-law's house to ask her for news, she knew nothing about it. I began to feel worried. I immediately went into the back kitchen and called the dog several times, but always in vain. I didn't know which side to stop at. Suddenly, it occurred to me that if there was one thing that could make the dog answer, it was the sentence: "Let's go for a walk, Frido", a sentence that always made him very happy. I did, and a suffocatong whimper, as if weakened by distance, came to my ear this time. I did it again and heard a distinct complaint from a dog in distress.

I had time to make sure that the noise came from inside the pipe that connects the boiler to the chimney. I didn't know how to get the dog out of it. The moments were precious, his life in danger. I grabbed a pickaxe and started breaking the wall there. Finally, I succeeded, with great difficulty in pulling Frido out of there, half suffocated, suffering from vomiting, with his tongue and entire body black with soot. If I had waited a few more moments, my little favourite would have died, and since the boiler is used very rarely, I probably would never have known what end it had come to. My sister-in-law  ran to see what was making the noise, we discovered together a mouse's nest placed in the furnace, on the side of the pipe. Frido, of course, had chased a mouse into the pipe in such a way that he was caught there without being able to turn around to get out.

All this happened a few months ago, and was then published by the local press. But I would never have thought to communicate it to this society if it had not happened in the meantime in the case of Mr. Rider Haggard.

Signed: Y. YOUNG.