Are We Not Men?
The dog was the color of a maraschino cherry, and what it had in its jaws I couldn’t quite make out at first, not until it parked itself under the hydrangeas and began throttling the thing. This little episode would have played itself out without my even
Boyle's narrator shouts "Bad! Bad dog!" at the creature mauling his neighbor's micropig—then finds his own forearm clamped in its jaws, "as if my forearm were a stick it had fetched in a friendly game." Curiously, there was no pain.