“The village dogs were barking, as they often did at the end of the day. The smell grew stronger and turned acrid. I was not frightened, not then, but some premonition made my heart start to beat more quickly. There was a fire ahead of me. Fires often broke out in the village: Almost everything we owned was made of wood or straw.”
“CRASH went the bottles, BEE-BEEP went the clock, RO-RO-RO-RO went the dogs on the block. On went the lights, BANG went the door and out came the family, one, two, three, four.”
“My dog didn’t bark at anything _ a cat, a bird, a piece of string, a siren or a silly toad, a pick-up truck along the road, a fence, a bone, a chewed-up shoe _ he barked because he wanted to.”
“Mr. Motiki’s dog was still barking at someone coming up the road. Only an old person would walk so slowly. She walked a little and then stopped to lean on her stick for a while.”