Two packs of street dogs. Squaring off, teeth bared, snarling. I was out for a walk with a friend early in the morning. The city was dead to the rising sun, but we found ourselves in the middle of a canine turf war. The object of division was a dog that had followed us, confident until a minute ago, now realising the odds were against her. She was in the wrong part of town.
Without a word, my friend and I turned our backs to each other. Armed with stones, adrenaline pumping, we asserted all the dominance that was locked up in our DNA. The cave man came out that morning. The dogs understood, backed away and our walking companion made a mad dash to the safety of her territory.
The danger of being in an unfamiliar situation, without control and just your wits... that's where a man suddenly comes alive.
Without a word, my friend and I turned our backs to each other. Armed with stones, adrenaline pumping, we asserted all the dominance that was locked up in our DNA. The cave man came out that morning. The dogs understood, backed away and our walking companion made a mad dash to the safety of her territory.
The danger of being in an unfamiliar situation, without control and just your wits... that's where a man suddenly comes alive.