“I’m in the yard, approaching the house. There are guys in the kitchen. Checking it out.”I nudged Mitch, “How does he check it out?”“Small...mirror on an extending rod.” I could tell that questions weren’t encouraged.“Three in the kitchen. They’re drinking beer and eating take-out.” He described each.I interrupted, “He’s the boss. The one you described as ‘mousy’ with glasses. Go figure, huh?”“No lights upstairs, but yes in the basement.” I shrugged my shoulders.Mitch considered it, “Okay, it. "Good Fido, eat it all up for Master.That's a good dog."The last few bites were hard to get up, but I managed. Then I realized thatI would have to lick the bowl clean. I was humiliated that I had had to begfor the dog food, to act excited to be offered it, and to lick the bowlclean on top of everything. As I was licking the bowl, I few swats hit myass. "Good boy, make Master happy." I licked with more zeal at those words.Once I had the bowl clean, I brought my face up. Master was staring at. More

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