It was 7 minutes after midnight. Christopher was standing in the street of his neighborhood, facing a dead dog on the road. It is Mrs Shears' dog, his neighbor. He likes dogs because you always know what a dog is thinking, they are faithful and never tell lies because they cannot talk. He lifted the dog into his arms and hugged him. It was leaking blood. He had been hugging the dog for 4 minutes when he heard screaming. He looked up and saw Mrs Shears running towards him from the patio. She was wearing pajamas and a housecoat. Her toenails were painted bright pink and she had no shoes on. She was shouting:

"What in fuck's name have you done to my dog? Let go of the dog! Let go of the fucking dog for Christ's sake!"

Christopher doesn't like people shouting at him. It makes him feel scared that they're going to hit him or touch him. He put the dog down on the lawn and moved back 2 meters. She bent down. Mrs Shears started screaming again. Christopher put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes and rolled forward till he was hunched up with his forehead pressed onto the grass. The grass was wet and cold. It was nice.