Jack followed willingly enough. As soon as he stopped his rubbing, the big dog looked up in comic regret, then got up and tagged along after Jack, his massive beautiful head just inches from Jack's leg. The young man experienced a feeling of pleasure, having successfully made friends with this powerful handsome creature. Just the idea of having this great dog walking along docilely at his side gave him a feeling of virile mastery – man the hunter with his savage and loyal companion. Already he was beginning to like the idea of owning the handsome animal.

"Well, here's the latest batch, and not a bad one," Harry was saying as he reached into the refrigerator to pull out an unlabeled quart beer bottle, filled with some slightly cloudy liquid. Stepping over to the sink he pried off the cap. There was a loud pop and a sinister tendril of blue smoke curled out of the opening. Very, very carefully Harry poured part of the contents into two glasses, trying to keep the cloudy sediment from being stirred up. He handed Jack one of the glasses. "Here's looking at ya," he said and took a long drink. Jack followed suit, choking a moment as the strong beer flowed down his throat, but after the first bite he realized Harry had indeed brought in a good batch this time.

By the time the two men had killed the first bottle they were both a little tipsy. The stuff wasn't only good, but it was loaded with high test rocket fuel, Jack thought foggily to himself. By now the whole world looked rosy.

"So what if I take this dog and it doesn't work out?" he asked his co-worker, slightly slurring his words. "Can I bring him back?"

"Sure, sure," Harry answered glibly. "Here, have another glass."

"Oh-ho, trying to get me drunk. Never saw you so ready to part with your home brew. You must really want to get rid of that dog." Getting no answer, the young man thought a moment and then went on. "Only one thing bothers me, really. What if the dog doesn't like Angela?"