s throat。
The rabbit was down on all fours； cropping grass。 Its belly was against the
ground。 But not ten minutes ago it had been up on its hind legs； of course it
had been； he had trimmed its ears 。。。 and its belly。
His eyes darted to the dog。 When he had e down the path it had been sitting
up； as if begging for a sweet。 Now it was crouched； head tilted； the clipped
wedge of mouth seeming to snarl silently。 And the lions —
（oh no； baby； oh no； uh…uh； no way）
the lions were closer to the path。 The two on his right had subtly changed
positions； had drawn closer together。 The tail of the one on the left now almost
jutted out over the path。 When he had e past them and through the gate； that
lion had been on the right and he was quite sure its tail had been curled around
it。
They were no longer protecting the path； they were blocking it。
Jack put his hand suddenly over his eyes and then took it away。 The picture
didn't change。 A soft sigh； too quiet to be a groan； escaped him。 In his
drinking days he had always been afraid of something like this happening。 But
when you were a heavy drinker you called it the DTs — good old Ray Milland in
Lost Weekend； seeing the bugs ing out of the walls。
What did you call it when you were cold sober？
The question was meant to be rhetorical； but his mind answered it
（you call it insanity）
nevertheless。
Staring at the hedge animals； he realized something had changed while he had
his hand over his eyes。 The dog had moved closer。 No longer crouching； it seemed
to be in a running posture； haunches flexed； one front leg forward； the other
back。 The hedge mouth yawned