Dogs Ahoy!... Again!!

Snatch again:

Mickey: Good dags. D'ya like dags?
Tommy: Dags?
Mickey: What?
Mrs. O'Neil: Yeah, dags.
Tommy: Oh, dogs. Sure, I like dags. I like caravans more.

So continues my association with dogs (or is it 'dags' this time?) on this blog. It turns out that my juvenile phobia of dogs, which I wrongly used to characterise as cynophobia, was only that-- juvenile phobia of dogs. As it turns out, I am no longer affected by it. When I actually sit to think about it now, there are few kinds that still terrify me urging me to leg it when I encounter them:

1) The really really large ones of the kind of German Shepherd, etc
2) The really really lean and tall ones like the hounds, etc
3) Huan, the hound of Valinor in whose baying, the horns of Oromë himself are heard.

The others, esp. the street dogs, I can handle pretty well... (I think). Sometimes, when I am in a really bad mood, I have wild fantasies of me chasing the street-dogs and dealing unto them, their deserved doom--the death (Exactly how is another story.. mail me for more details!)---
And lo!
Poyinde!!
poye poche!!!
chole gaachi!!!!
All my anger is gone... just like Lord Narasimha's anger dissipated when he thrust his long nails into Audumbar tree (Ficus racemosa). Come to think of it, the street-dogs are doing a great job as my stress-busters.

The whole point of this post is that yesternight, I had a strange dream---
I suddenly ran out of my home, and three dogs started following me. I knew they were running after me, and suddenly I stopped, turned around, and killed one after another, all the three in three totally different dramatic ways, and came back home.

Now I know freudian psychoanalysts will not waste a single moment to attribute this to some sexual encounter in their childhood that they were desperately waiting to attach to somebody,but hey.. as they say, "whatever floats your boat..."