Bob and I have a route we tend to use for our dog-walking. It is a loop through the neighborhood and at the far end of the loop there is a house. (somber music) A house wherein lies Mao and the Sentinel. (Scary music crescendos.)
As we approach the house (usually about two houses away) our dogs' mo hawk fur goes up, Maggie starts growling, Sammi slinks lower to the ground, and everyone starts walking slower. Suddenly, we spot the Sentinel (an adorable Australian Cattle Dog type of sweetheart) whose tail starts wagging and starts barking the meanest, most ferocious bark I've ever heard in my life. Then Mao, an adorable Beagle, runs up to the fence and howls repeatedly at the top of his 14-lb-dog lungs. (Note: Mao is the Beagle's real name, but we don't know the name of the Sentinel.)
This is considered an affront to our girls who lunge at the end of their leashes. Maggie growls and barks while Sammi does this high-pitched whine that I haven't quite figured out since usually she has no qualms about barking her head off like a fool.
An epic battle of scratching and barking ensues with us yelling our heads off and the dogs on the edge of their seat for the next block. It's a harrying experience, but one that the dogs look forward to on every walk. It's like saying to yourself, "Oh goodie! I didn't call my wife to tell her I would be late for dinner, and now we're going to have a gigantic fight about it! I can't wait! I hope that she calls me a worthless fattie and I get to call her a bitch!"