“Yes, I said to myself, we do, we imagine, even as adults, a lot of silly things, out of joy or exhaustion. And I laughed, waving that long thin branch, and felt more and more like laughing. ...Don’t you know you’re supposed to keep him on a leash? He’s supposed to have a muzzle!’ Ugly bitch. She was the one who needed a leash. I yelled at her, unable to contain myself... he was truly a frightening spectacle, he seemed outside himself, as if he were another dog, of great, unpredictable malice.... when he didn’t stop I raised the branch that I had in my hand menacingly, but even then he would not be silent. This enraged me, and I hit hard. I heard the whistling in the air and saw his look of astonishment when the blow struck his ear. Stupid dog, stupid dog.., spoilt dog that always got his own way.”

(Elena Ferrante, The Days of Abandonment)