This evening, Shane decided he could attack a pit bull. He didn’t. He just thought he could. Joan had him by the collar and kept asserting her bosslike power over him—you know the routine from observing wolf packs and listening to Cesar Milan. I guess Joan didn’t believe her own lie. Shane sure didn’t believe it, because he kept making whiny sounds and drooling. The pit bull is a lot stronger than Shane. But that’s only when things are normal. Shane’s so fearful that it makes him stronger, or maybe crazier. He’s so afraid that he loses his ability to reason like a sensible dog, which makes him forget to be afraid. That’s the most dangerous kind of dog.
Anyway, the pit bull and the man with him kept walking and so did we. But, wouldn’t you know it, we turned so many corners on our walk—and so did the pit bull—and we crossed paths again. I guess Shane was too tired to make a fuss. Joan kept saying, “I’m the boss. I’m the boss.” No she’s not.
Best wishes, Juno
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