Lyle’s shoulders dipped, his head dropped, and his tail slipped between his legs. He didn’t control any of these movements; his body seemed to do them without any direction whatsoever. When the man straightened and slipped a hand into each pocket, Lyle curled his lip and bared his teeth.
“Relax, mutt,” the man said. “I know you’re no dog. Just as you, no doubt, know that I’m no man. And if we’re having a competition on whose teeth are prettier, I’d be happy to show you mine and win that round in a heartbeat.” He shrugged and flicked an eyebrow. “Or lack of heartbeat, as legend has it.”
The man stepped forward. Lyle stepped away quickly and the sudden scrabble of his back paws made the man grin. “It’s kind of a shame, you know. Here I thought dinner was on its way, and instead I get you.
