Outside, jogging aroun the lake is a lady and her dog...wait scratch that it's a lady and her transformed fiance. It's a nice autumn day outside and they both rather needed a break from the menagerie
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If Bob were a different breed of dog, he would be rambling all over, investigating every new scent that wafts past him. But Komondors are flock guardians, and right now his 'flock' consists of one Dot Matrix. He's keeping pace beside her, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that might constitute a threat.
Yeah, Frisket had to get used to that, too, in the other direction.
You know me? asks Frisket, nonplussed. I ain't met that many User dogs, and I'd crashin' well remember one looked like that. Or has the piss gone 'round* 'bout me? He seems smug at this notion.
*Word gets out about articulate creatures, but dogs have their own way of spreading rumours.
The dog is torn. Stay with his flock or get the food? Stay with his flock or get the food? He looks back and forth from Dot to the bit of steak, getting increasingly agitated.
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What'n the Web're you supposed to be? A string array?
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Then his brain catches up to him and he realizes who he's looking at.
...oh, hi, Frisket. Sorry about that.
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You know me? asks Frisket, nonplussed. I ain't met that many User dogs, and I'd crashin' well remember one looked like that. Or has the piss gone 'round* 'bout me? He seems smug at this notion.
*Word gets out about articulate creatures, but dogs have their own way of spreading rumours.
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The patron smells vaguely of wolf, but that's assuming Bob recognizes the scent.
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He's loathe to do it, but he drops another piece of steak to really get the dogs attention. I want to ask you some questions.
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Hi, Ryan, says Bob as he trots over. What did you want to ask me?
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