Leash

Cruelty is cruel even to oneself.

The sort of person who harms another

cannot love himself, but only acts

as though others do not exist.

And since they do, and since pretending

that reality does not matter to you

turns out badly in the end,

you only end up harming yourself.

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When you see someone acting cruelly, judgment is necessary.

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Leash

The chain-link fence sagged between rusted posts. Weeds pushed through the mesh. The dog—a heavy German shepherd—kept hurling himself at it, and it clanged with each lunge. The sound carried down the block.

The cat was gone. Its claws flashed once, but then it lept into the branches and disappeared. The dog stayed, bristling, drooling, pacing the fence.

The owner strode from his porch, boots grinding on gravel. The leash dangled loose in one hand. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. You could see the scowl worn in by habit. “My yard. My rules,” he growled, as if reciting an automatic credo.

“Quiet!” he barked, yanking the dog back. Then, without pause, he swung the leash and cracked it across the dog’s flank. The leather whistled as it cut the air, striking with a snap, sharp as bone breaking. The animal yelped, staggered. He hit it again.

On the sidewalk, a neighbor froze. With her grocery bag cutting into her wrist, she was walking home from the bus stop when she heard the racket. Now she raised her phone. She fumbled it a few times before finding the record button.

The red circle glowed.

The man caught sight of her. “Mind your own business,” he growled. His sneer showed teeth yellow at the gum line, spittle glistening on his lip.

Her hand faltered. For an instant she lowered the phone. “He might cross the fence. He might come at me,” she thought. The bag slipped on her arm and an apple fell to the pavement, burst open, and spread pulp at her feet.

Then the dog whimpered. She looked down at its flank, where a welt had risen, raw and red, as if a line of fire had been scored into its hide. She steadied her hand and raised the phone higher.

The man saw. His sneer widened, almost theatrical. “Go ahead. Film it. Won’t change a thing.”

By now, curtains were parting. A teenager across the street with a skateboard said, “Jesus.” A woman called from a doorway, “Don’t stop.” More phones rose. Neighbors leaned from porches. The block was watching.

The leash cracked again. The dog’s eyes went wide, glassy, pleading. The camera lens caught it all—the man’s arm high, the dog crouching, the second welt rising on its side.

That frame would become the afterimage of the event—a still image, frozen, replayed, demanding judgment. It was not a personal photo, but forensic evidence, the kind of picture that belongs in a police file.

The woman held her phone tightly. She was shaking, but she stood firm. More apples fell out of her bag and smashed on the ground. She didn’t try to gather them.

The man’s voice boomed like a preacher at a revival meeting: “This is my property, my animal, my rules.” He struck the dog again. It sounded like kindling cracking.

From a porch came the plain reply: “We see you.” Another voice echoed, “We all see you.” The block issued a moan of disgust moving from window to window.

He laughed, short and harsh. “Video’s fake. Always is. They’ll believe what I tell ’em.”

The leash dangled heavy now, leather dark with blood. The dog crouched, ribs heaving. The man stood over the bleeding animal, daring anyone to defy him.

The neighbor tapped to zoom closer, catching every welt. Her hand no longer shook.

By morning, the clip was everywhere. One frame held everyone’s attention—leash raised, welts burning, the dog’s eyes wide. It was less a video than a piece of forensic evidence. No one could scroll past it without going back to view it again.

That night, the knock came hard at his door, official and echoing through his front hall. The dog whimpered inside, claws scratching faintly at the floorboards. Outside, neighbors looked through their windows and from their porches, faces lit by the street lamps. They did not speak. They did not turn away. They all said silently, We saw it.