Another thing you can’t trust
They are only a generation from wolves, with blood on their teeth and head-back baying. Why would it stay when you tell it to? Instead, it’ll sit for a bit until a more interesting smell whistles shrill, from over there. And it will be gone. Not, of course, intending to leave you, foolish with an empty lead like a noose from your fingers.
‘Where is your dog?’ they ask.
And you shrug, shameful. You tried. There were training treats. You followed the rules – a good owner. Yet, it could still bite a child or steal your cheese and pickle sandwich.
