Slowly you tap along the street, your nose almost touching the ground. It is a little difficult to follow the scent and more than once you turn round and have to trace back to differenciate between the scent that have been blown away by the wind and the actual trail that you need to follow. Over time you learn to love gutter channels and small patches of grass where the scent particles catch, making it easier for you to follow.
The scent becomes stronger with every step you take and after quite a while, you hear the regular pattern of claws striking the floor.
Your ears quickly sort out the noise of three or four large dogs that walk about and several smaller ones that create jumbled pitter-patter.
Once more you suck in the scent to clarify that this has indeed been your target, when said targets walk straight in front of you, telling your eyes what your heart and nose already knew:
There is a bitch in heat. She is dust brown with alert, pointy wolf-like ears and a dark muzzle. Her tail is clamped tightly between her legs as she walks and every now and then she sits down on the ground.
Around her is a scatter of small dogs that are still hoping for their chance, despite being small enough that they can walk freely between the bitches' legs without even crouching. But hope is burning in their eyes like an eternal flame, that maybe, once in a blue moon, they may get the chance to pass on their genes on that bitch.
Two large dogs are dominating the bitch, constantly squabbling with each other. Both are pedigree-mongrels, but one of them shows clear signs of a Border Collie in his ancestory, while the other one can parade around the facial features and some of the skin folds of a Shar-Pei. Their speech is sloppy and scarce, but from what you overhear, you can safely say that the Shar-Pei is called "Aro" and the Collie is "Yewa".
While you are watching, the Shar-Pei notices you and growls. He possessively places himself behind the sitting bitch and rests one paw on her lower back, marking his territory. As if that wasn't enough, he also raises his voice and utters "Grewoo belongs to me", just to make absolutely sure you get the message.
Maybe he judges your intellect from his own experience?
The heavily-built dog steps toward you, head lowered and lips puckered aggressively. Out of his throat seeps a continuous, low, rumbling growl as he stalks closer to you. "I breed her, not you! You want fight? Let's fight!"
Yikes. This might be difficult for a begginer-canine like you.
What do do?
Fight
Submit

Back off