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More Doug + Dogs (Buenos Aires, 2013)

~ 3AM on the median of Av 9 de Julio, Centro, Buenos Aires

Doug and I had just finished sipping some café con leche while he explained to me what an MVC framework was. In my back pocket I carried the lecture’s key notes, crumpled paper-thin Argentine restaurant napkins crawling with arrows and references to ORMs, controllers, views, etc. My mind was boggled as we walked towards our apartment.

Doug must have a thing for dogs, and I mean the wrong kind of thing (https://perhapsyouspeakenglish.wordpress.com/2013/07/23/dont-bark-at-rabid-dogs-istanbul-2012/). We walked by a group of street mutts. I was a little nervous, I looked at them, they seemed calm, we passed. A few seconds later, the two of us both looked at each other and looked back… they were sneaking up on us… we B O L T E D. The chase was on, and the barking was effing scary.

Doug ran across the street and then continued running in the same direction. I stayed on the median and channeled my inner Forrest Gump. I saw a hedge approaching and thought, well, I hope there isn’t a ditch on the other side. I hurdled it, landed safely, and ran across the street to join Doug… the dogs stayed on the median, guarding their territory. Time for bed.

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Don’t Bark At Rabid Dogs (Istanbul, 2012)

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One late night in Istanbul, Doug and I were making the long trek back to our flat in Balthilimani. We walked by the Bosphorus, smoking cigarettes. We finally made it to the street right before our flat. 

It was really dark — only a couple of street lamps gave their light. Doug was wearing his fucking 3 wolves howling at the moon shirt. We’re about 10 min from our flight, and then we notice that to our left, maybe like 25 yards away, was a pack of mangy stray dogs. They looked mean.

The Brilliant Doug, wearing his wolves shirt, takes one look at them and barks. Yes, Doug barked at the pack of rabid mangy stray dogs. They paused for an infinitesimal moment … and then started barking and charging us, foaming at the mouth. A pack of mangy stray dogs. We shat our pants and fucking booooked it up the hill to our flat. We didn’t risk looking back. It was some scary shit.