10.47pm. It’s dark, quiet. Cold creeps cautiously around your face as you brave the elemental outdoor conditions. Oblivious to your surroundings, headphones channel distraction directly into your brain. Wind howls, stroking your dog and blowing a fine rain into your squinting eyes as you wade through the thick, colourless mist. Your canine companion sniffs the air, identifying and categorising scents as he delicately guides your shoulder from its socket, pulling you along. Approaching a corner, you reel in the lead, restricting the allowance of your canis lupus in preparation for the bend.
Tentatively you turn the corner and a new horizon appears. Peering up at the tarmacadum from beneath your hood, you see a shadowy silhouette. It is what you feared. Merely ten feet in front of you, beneath the ominous luminance of a broken streetlight stands a humanoid shape accompanied by a long, thin line. You navigate the lead with your eyes, as does your hound. His ears prick up as he distinguishes a staunch shape from the darkness – another dog. All parties stop as the stand-off occurs.
You stare at the cowboy opposite, mirroring the intensity of his western glare. Your hands twitch above your holstered leads. Ennio Morricone’s Inseguimento reinforces the theme, courtesy of the ever-relevant iPod shuffle. Two men. Two dogs. One path. Someone has to make the first move? Will it be you?