He said that people who loved [animals] to excess were capable of the worst cruelties toward human beings. He said that dogs were not loyal but servile, that cats were opportunists and traitors, that peacocks were heralds of death, that macaws were simply decorative annoyances, that rabbits fomented greed, that monkeys carried the fever of lust, and that roosters were damned because they had been complicit in the three denials of Christ.
"When I hung up, Gabriel said, "Now you're going out that--" "I'm not leaving you." "Don't be stupid. I have a gun." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the .45. "Which will knock you on your ass if you try firing with a bad leg. Sit down before you fall." "I'm--" "Sit down." I walked to the door and peered out. If I strained, I could hear footsteps above. Anderson would search the other rooms first. Then he'd come down here. When I returned, Gabriel was still standing, leaning against the washing machine. Stubborn bastard. "So you're staying with me?" he said. "Yep." "You may not want to do that." "Too bad." "I wouldn't stay for you." "Probably not." His mouth opened, as if he'd been prepared for me to disagree. He paused and then said, "I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't." "Doesn't matter. You're my partner. I watch your back."
The Indians did not like to see anything odd -- a white squirrel, for instance. . . . They thought such oddities were messages, were omens of evil. . . . And the Indians put a great deal of faith in dreams.