They met in Central Park one morning when his dog, Nikki, bolted toward hers, Whiskey.

The dog bolted and the trucks rumbled off past mud huts and baobab trees and into the parched savannah.

The dog turned and bolted out of sight, its great paws slamming back divots of sod.

The dogs, once free, bolted deeper into the forest in the direction of the fresh scent, scaring up several grouse and other birds along the way.

One afternoon three years ago, Mr. Muller and Memphis were walking on the Columbia University campus when the dog, who is never on a leash and is rarely outgoing, bolted toward someone in the distance.

The dog immediately bolted away from the dish and bowls, right ear flattened back, legs scrambling frantically across the street.

Again and again the hunters urged them in, but the dogs heard the bushpig blowing in the ramblers and bolted for the huts.

The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.

The dog, after a swift glance back at Haplo, bolted after the boy.

The dog bolted around him and blocked the deer trail.