Overcoming a fear of dogs ...

For many years, I had a fear of dogs - I felt no shame in this - I would slink past even the smallest of pugs, imagining tiny teeth lacerating my shins - I would wince when a dog owner assured me - he's just playing -

I am sure it all started when I was a paper boy - there was yellowy brown snarling shape behind the door of Number 48, Bramber Road - this unseen creature haunted my dreams - I would steal up the pathway, bordered by low box hedges - I would insert the Portsmouth Evening News into the letterbox with the stealthy movements of an assassin - yet instantly, the rag was torn to pieces, so it seemed - the Daily Mail seemed to especially enrage the beast -

I can remember cycling on my Raleigh, with a dog clinging to my ankle - I wavered down the alley - it was only the second or third time I'd gone out on the bike -

In Cappadocia, two mastiffs, guarding goats, had stood up with implacable authority when I drew near - Ken had murmured - just keep on walking - I was ready to leap into the gorge -

Tessa, however, has no fear of dogs, whatever their size or temperament - she had great fun walking two labradors, Barley and Bracken -

Recently, on the beach of Worbarrow Bay, I started to lose my fear - we'd just climbed down from Flowers Barrow - we were resting for a few moments, sitting upon the warm salty pebbles -

There, in front of me, leaping and chasing each other at the sea's edge were three dogs - they raced along, in high spirits, artless and athletic - one hurled himself into the water to retrieve a piece of black driftwood -

To my surprise, I did not shrink away from the sight, nor did I feel my heart hammer in my chest - instead, I watched the animals as they played together - I felt portions of my fear flake off, like shreds of rust -

How much rust, I wondered, and how thick its layers, coated my soul? -