11 Minutes
Dear Eugene, I found out last week what I knew already, only I was expecting worse. My neighbor around the corner is a retired auto mechanic. He walks his pit bull everyday, and for more than a few years since I moved here I would wave him a Hi from across the street while Sumi gives her usual panic bark that necessitates my tug on her leash as a token apology to shroud my habitual embarrassment. His pit bull is too old to even sport a scorn. Cars would go in and out of his driveway pretty much all year round. Two summers ago I walked up his driveway with Sumi and asked if I could have him for more than a neighbor; he said he would be honored to keep my car healthy. Ms. Pit Bull, unleashed as always, lay low next to her boss, who emerged from the shadow of a car's belly, relishing the smell of napalm in the morning. By then Sumi, loony as she is, have at last realized she is no more than a piece of dead meat to Big Missy and would reciprocate the ...