One of my favorite pasttimes as a child was reading a sad story to my little sister and bawling together at the top of our lungs. The most effective vehicle for this cathartic endeavor was entitled The Dog of Pompeii, in which a boy is forced to leave his dog behind on the shores under erupting Vesuvius. Our imagination constructed with horrified relish the scenario in which the dog arrives on the scene, finds his master has left him, and is engulfed in flames with great sorrow. One can only speculate as to the needs for grief expression that were met by us in this tragico-comical manner.
