It is drizzling. A man about my age is walking a dog on a leash right in front of me. The dog is to the right of the man, walking along the edge of the pavement. At some point the man shifts the leash from his right to his left hand behind his back, and pulls the dog to his left, where there is a bit less drizzle under the eves. A few seconds later the dog slows down a bit, and then returns to the right of the man. “Oh,” I can hear the man grumble, “you’re such a stupid bitch!” The dog stays on his right, though, and the man shifts the leash from his left to his right hand behind his back.