I was walking home to my spot and this pit bull—a gray one—bars my way. So I go around. I have a legal knife on me but I don’t want to harm the animal.

I get to my street and begin to cross to my spot and this dog has followed me and is barring my way! I look for a stick but there’s nothing. I yell at this thing and it stands its ground. So I look around and find a chunk of ice—thank God for the late snow—and heave a chunk at this pit bull and it yelps and runs.

The only thing that I figured is that its scumbag, dindu owner abused it by throwing stuff at it and it panicked. The dog had the same personality profile of dindu men that you describe in On Bitches. Talk about When You're Food! In retrospect—and even at the time—it felt eerie, like I was 250,000 years ago fighting off some canine.

A Fighter’s View of Predatory Aggression: The Forever Autumn Press Edition