Pansy came out to the backyard, just about the time Coke was pondering whether to go in or go get another set of floodlights. The new pizza oven was looking less like a mess and more like something on purpose, but he wasn’t nowhere near done and…
“Yarp.”
He loved how his Pansy sounded like she was really telling him something. “What, baby girl?”
She looked back toward the house, the warm light coming out of the kitchen where he could see Dillon making something, then back at him. “Yarp!”
His lips twisted. “My cowboy tell you to come fetch my ass?”
She stomped her big basset rhino butt toward the porch, stopping again to wag, bark, then push through the doggie door.
Coke reckoned, if whatever Dillon needed was important enough to send one of the dogs, he probably ought to check it out.
Just about then, Dillon appeared at the backdoor wearing nothing but an apron and holding a bacon sandwich and a beer. Huh.
Night air wouldn’t hurt them rocks, none…
Copyright BA Tortuga 2012
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