"All right, Hairy. We've got to have a little man-to-man chat."

Your eyes are a little nicer, too, but I wish you'd smile. I'd feel better about hanging out here in thin air if you'd just smile.

"I got a bunch of guys coming over to play cards tonight and I don't think you're exactly their kind of dog, know what I'm saying?"

I guess it's back to the cave.

"You'll be safe in your crate. We might get a little loud, but we won't hurt you. I'll take you out for a walk when they leave. Okay, buddy?"

Yeah, okay. I don't mind the cave. At least you put a fluffy blanket in here. I guess you're trying to be nice. I guess you're not like the bad man who hurt Slick. I try not to think about my owner much, because it makes me lonely and scared and I start shaking more, which makes me pee.

Thomas closed the door to the crate, draped an old pillowcase over the top, and headed to the entertainment center.

Here comes that strange, sad music again-nothing like the real music Slick and I love so much, the kind that makes us feel like dancing!

I miss him. I miss my sparkling red suit with the matching collar. I miss dancing. I wonder when I'll get to see Soft Hands again.

She felt so nice to snuggle up with.

* * *

"Just don't ever get married or we won't have anywhere to play cards. Any microbrews left in the fridge?"

Thomas peered through the gray-blue cigar fog that hung over the dining room table and narrowed his eyes at Vince Stephano. "I'm never getting married and I'll never run out of good beer on poker night," he said impatiently. "You gonna ante up or just sit there and bitch like you do at the office… sir?"