Chapter 1 - Bitten by a mad dog
When I look at how my two boys - Zander at 5 and Lauritz at 2 - deal with dogs with the utmost naturalness and naturally, I can by no means recognize my own childhood in them.
As a boy I grew up in a cooperative housing association in Nørrebro, where dogs were strictly prohibited. No one in the family's daily social circle was a dog owner and therefore my touch with dogs was extremely limited. In front of the local tavern on the corner, there was often a large dog, looking at the passers-by and when I was passing by, the opposite side of the street with mom always walked between me and the dog.
In the neighborhood also lived a lady who bred the large and very long-haired Afghan coins. You often saw her in the street with 4-5 of my kind and my mother often talked badly about her because the dogs always had thin skins and the lady had never remembered the dog bags ..
In our colony garden association in Brøndby Strand we came for a short period with an elderly married couple with a dog, but it came to a sudden end when the dog one day snapped me in the face ..
One year we were on a farm holiday in the countryside, but more than the chickens and pigs I remember the farm dog! A mighty (I remember it at least) and greedy shepherd dog who always seemed to want to snap a boy's arm or two.
In the picture below from the farm holiday you see the giant dog in the foreground while in the background I seek protection between mother's legs. My body language is not to be mistaken and today I can also see how even the dog can read me and think: “Him the boy over there, he is shown by fucking green pigs by seems to me. I'm TOP DOG here on the farm! ”
