I was walking Luke in the neighborhood this afternoon. I heard a couple of whistles and saw a small but muscular brindle pit-bull roaming up ahead, a man following, a second man farther behind. The pit-bull sees us and comes over slowly, head down, licking lips. "Is it friendly?," I ask. As the two dogs circle and sniff, the first man replies, "I don’t know. She’s not mine. I think she belongs to the people across the street." I watch, warily, trying to stay cool. "I don’t want to scare her or she might do something weird," he adds. Weird? Like attack my dog or me? Stay calm. The second man arrives, "I’m sorry, guys, my dumb-ass brother just picks up dogs off the street." He sports the finest prison-style, long baggy shorts falling off, revealing 8 inches of boxer shorts; white tank top; tats and beard that say don’t fuck with me. Just breathe. The thug grabs the dog hard by the collar. "She seems sweet," says the guy who needs new neighbors. "She’s not. She’s already tried to kill two of my dogs. I’m surprised she didn’t attack that dog." WTF?!!! He slaps her flank hard, holding her front legs off the ground by her collar. "That’s not gonna help," says the unbelievably nice guy who needs bars on his windows and doors, "that will just make her try to get away again." I think, speak, say something, confront the ignorant brute, confront the abuser. "She’s going to the pound as soon as possible. I can’t keep her in the yard. She’s already tried to kill two of my dogs.," he repeats. Meth’ll do that to you. Say, "she’ll be better off the sooner she gets away from you." No – we will. Shut up. Stay calm. Let the danger pass you by. Luke just grins and walks on. My hero.