Sleeping with the Enemy

is an extremely distressing movie. And, based on the magnitude of my reaction at the crucial moment (I not only jumped, but shrieked - or as close to as I've ever gotten - and quivered for a prolonged period, and did not know what to do with myself), it must be about the scariest movie I've ever seen. I don't know if I ought to be embarrassed about that. I'll go with no.

So violently convulsive was my shock that Mack, the rascally 18-month-old Pointer in my charge who had thitherto been relatively indifferent towards me, got out of his bed, came over and quietly laid his head and front paws over my lap, and stayed there for some minutes. He was peculiarly affectionate and protective of me all evening. An interesting little development. I like dogs.