I love the book. The part where King describes the death of Frankie made me cry. Harm to anything defenceless. It brought a memory from 1986, when my brother-in-law and I parked in the diner's car park near the tennis courts in Moore Park. A little puppy was sitting on a pile of rubbish in the back seat of a car that we walked past. The little puppy had cigarette-but burns. The puppy looked at me and it's eyes said, 'what did I do to deserve this', it whimpered and the guy in the front seat told it to shut up. Keith and I just walked past and did nothing. Now, I would do something.
