“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.”
“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.”
“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.”