The Sensuous Self and Identity
The sound of barking dogs follows me (Simon) like bad karma, and myreaction is often volatile. I am not sure why. It may have started when I was five or six years old. I would come home from school, open the heavy metal door to our apartment building, and inadvertently provoke the concierge’s white French poodle to run out of her apartment and jump too close to my face, snapping and barking violently. It often took the concierge a long time finally to call her dog off. Ever since then, barking dogs have enraged me.