So I'm walking down the street in Chicago last weekend (where I got to interview the amazing authors Marianne Wiggins, Marisa Silver, Diana Abu-Jaber, and Arthur Phillips at the annual book fair) when I heard this frenzied barking, high-pitched and edged with rage. There was an insistence to it, a sense of immediate threat that had everyone within earshot acting uneasy.

And there it was, this Benjie-like dog, all fluff and and froth and venom, reaching through the open window and eyeing, I swear, the soft flesh of that biker's throat.