A Vicious Deer

The man came across the hall to talk to us.

He was buying some paintings.

He had a white deer on a leash.

Fosca (our Malamute) said: “That's a vicious deer.”

She kept putting her paw on its shoulder.

I said: “You better take that deer away.”

“The deer can stay,” said the man.

“Fosca says it's a vicious deer.”

“That dog is delusional.”

“You've got a vicious deer.”

“So what,” said the man, “you've got a talking dog.”

It was a stand-off. Neither was wrong. Now what?

“You can't take these paintings,” I said.

“What!” said my 1st wife.

This was only a dream, so it did not matter.

“Mind your own business.”

I never knew how to do this.