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The Talking Dog

Where I live there is grey concrete and litter and it's bleak. I know that a vicious dog lives nearby, and I'm scared of him. He's a big Alsatian, with huge ears and sharp pointed teeth.

I watch him from down the road. As people go past, he snarls at them and lunges, trying to bite them. They run away. He doesn't chase after them, but stays where he is on the corner, waiting for the next person to pass. I have to go past him every day, and I always speed up when I walk by, but I try not to show that I am afraid.

Time seems to go by, and I'm aware that whenever I go past him, he doesn't go for me, but says hello instead - in a gruff voice with a cockney accent. "Alright."

I only ever nod back at him and scurry past. I'm still scared of him because he continues to attack other people.

Time progresses, and we start exchanging a little small talk whenever I go past. "Alright luv, wotcha up to?"

He seems to be quite friendly to me, but he still attacks other people and everyone remains very frightened of him. 

One day, I'm really curious to find out why he doesn't try and hurt me. So I ask him why he says hello to me, but bites everyone else.

He looks at me with his black eyes and says in his deep growly voice;

"Because you're alright - but the rest of 'em are wankers."

And he winks, and walks away.

(c) Kate Rontree 2002