Max scrabbled to get behind the sofa but Anton was ruthless. He had to be, he told himself, as he tugged on Max's collar. The dog skidded forward, his back legs twisting under him. Anton slipped a hand under Max's flanks and pulled him up. Max yelped but stayed on his feet.
Mrs. Bushnell, across the hall, opened her door a crack. Anton caught a glimpse of her hair, the color of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Every day she looked out whenever they passed. Anton pictured her, hovering behind her...
Except for a mother and her twin boys, I was alone on the platform at Kipling. The kids were probably about three or four and had curls like apricot foam haloing their baseball caps. At first, I thought the woman had a bad cold. Her face looked blotchy. She leaned against the wall, staring at her feet. She had one of those knotty bodies that put you in mind of trailer camps and empty Budweiser cans full of bullet holes.
I was coming from a session with my therapist in which I hadn't...
On YouTube, I watched a video that must’ve been filmed on the grounds of a doggy day care facility, possibly somewhere in Latin America. Two dark-skinned, dark-haired men stand watching the dogs, who, except for one hyperactive husky, are all playing nicely. The husky, however, won’t get control of himself. The men watch without intervening as the husky rampages, bumping into dogs, mounting, and otherwise challenging them. The well-socialized dogs ignore him and move away.
The husky zeroes in...