I saw him standing silhouetted against the whitewashed cement wall. For a moment I jumped in fear, not fear of the man ahead, I knew it was a friend of mine, but fear that my dog would charge at him. Then I remembered, before I had ever forgotten, that my dog was in my car. My idiot dog, dripping blood and limping.

I imagine how his teeth would feel if they gripped me the way they had gripped my neighbor's dog. The skin pulled up over his head like a tight sweater by his savage clinging. Jaws showed no aggression as he tore into the flesh and fur and skin of his opponent. No growling. No quick movements. His tail wagging contentedly as humans swarm around him beating him with fists, boots, boards, metal bars. He is unphased until his grip begins to slip and he pulls back to readjust. I see his happy grin.

He sits hulking in my car with this same grin now. Girls love this dog. Now they pet him on his head, the same head that only an hour before had been used to ram his enemy into the ground. He puts his snout forward to nuzzle his favorite girl on the neck. He opens his mouth to nibble slightly with his massive teeth that I now know can break bone and rend flesh.

I think back to the fight. He pulled back to settle his footing, then lunged forward, only to meet with my leg. I feel his teeth on my leg again, closing just enough to bruise me a little. I feel his fear at knowing that he might have hurt me. I watch his mouth come near to her again and I think how it was only by a lucky mistake on his part and fast reflexes on mine that he didn't kill the other dog.

What an idiot, sitting bloody and limping in my car, trying to show the girls how cute he can be.

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