You went to a block of flats once to interview an old woman about something or other, and her Alsation dog followed you through the door and into the front room. After about half an hour, the dog got up and crapped in the corner, then sat down by the fire. At first you thought it was none of your business, but eventually you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and asked her why she didn’t make her dog go outside. “It’s not my dog,” she said, “I thought it was yours.”
... Another woman … [had] a huge Rottweiler bitch ... growling at you. “Don’t worry,” the woman said. “It’s because you’re drinking out of her cup.” That story isn’t true either.
from “Where You’re At” by Simon Armitage in “All Points North” (1988)
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