" Loose coon dogs and bear dogs, half wild already, had started forming packs as soon as their owners scattered, leaving them to discover their own manners without interference from human opinion. V saw them hanging at the edges of dark pinewoods as her gang of fugitives rolled slowly down the roads south -- bunches of dogs, yellow and brown and mottled, with their ribs showing and almost countable even from a distance, pink tongues hanging from desperate grins. Only a little more time --three seasons, V speculated--until all sense of man's dominion over them would fade and and they'd start taking down stray children and elder folks. Two or three generations after that, they'd go wholly wolf. Civilization balances always on a keen and precarious point, a showman spinning a fine Spode dinner plate on a long dowel slender as hay. "
― Charles Frazier , Varina