"When I walk into the house with the dog ahead of me, I already know what I'm going to say when my wife asks, How was that? I'm going to say: It was just awful. But my wife isn't in the house; she's in the garden weeding, and only briefly looks up when the dog starts circling her. In the end, I have to go out there and stare at a bush."
"Lots of weeds, my wife says. I stare, and say nothing. What's wrong with you? she says. My prepared answer does not fit this question; I'm obliged to improvise. I don't want to talk about it, I say, stepping into my office shed and shutting the door. The thing I don't want to talk about is an incident with another dog, on a nearly deserted patch of open scrubland."
"What our dog saw, even from that distance, was another ball being thrown. She is a thief of balls, but people are mostly understanding about this. I could see she was being friendly with the little dog, if a little too interested in the ball, I say. And so I started trudging over there. I was about halfway when the whole thing kicked off."
He arrives home with the dog intending to report a terrible walk but finds his wife weeding in the garden and avoids answering. He retreats to his office shed because of a troubling incident on a nearly deserted patch of scrubland. His dog chased another ball and approached a small dog and its owners, prompting a sudden escalation. The situation erupted into barking, tight circling, screaming and swearing. He moved toward the commotion, then ran as the scene intensified. He remains shaken and unable to fully describe what happened.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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