Two dogs were screwing on Stoltz’s lawn. He sat on the porch, drinking his way through a case of Leinie’s, watching people walk past. A man and a woman walked by with two children. When they saw the dogs, the woman clapped her hands over the kids’ eyes and hustled them around the corner. The man came stamping up to him.
“What the hell you thinking, man?” he said, leaning across the front step. “I don’t want my kids to see dogs screwing each other. You oughta chain up your dogs, mister.”
“Not my dogs,” Stoltz replied.
“The hell you say.”
“Never seen ’em before.”
“Why don’t you run ’em off, then?”
“What the hell do I care? Let ’em screw, they aren’t bothering me any.” He opened another beer, took a long, lukewarm drag off it. “You should get back to your wife.”
“Damn you and your dogs!” As he went past the dogs the man kicked out with his foot, knocking the dogs sideways. They didn’t seem to mind, just kept screwing away at each other.
“That’s it,” Stoltz said. “Oh mighty hero!”
“Screw you!” shouted the man, and was gone.