I have a problem with a dog. It is a long and terrible grudge between me and Harry the Tooth, a lhasa Apso. The old dog hates me and the grudge is firm and lingering. It's like the hatred between nursing home residents who sit on opposite sides of the cafeteria as they did in high school. When I walk in the door, Harry bites me. He nails me when I arrive and chews me up and down when I leave – heel to calve. Today I resolved to make peace with the old dog. He's not long to live – maybe two years. I could endure his resentment, but … no. On my knees at the kitchen gate, I sat nose to nose with Harry. He barked and yapped himself into a sneezing frenzy, as small dogs will. I forced eye contact with him and then gave him a treat. I worked this method until he gave me a face lick. The fence removed, I entered the den of the beast, with not even a chair or whip to protect me. I traded snacks for face licks. A peace formed. The day went and went well. As I left, Harry happily followed me to the door. He bit me. He barked and yapped and chewed on my leg and barked some more. I don't know what he was saying, but I know what he meant – fuck you, Furman. I shall return – with a smile... and a treat.