“Sometimes,” Bernie said, lowering his voice, “you just get a feeling.” He was so right! In fact, I get feelings all the time! We understand each other so well, me and Bernie. For example, right now I had a feeling that maybe there was a little scrap of something or other under the enormous gleaming cooking range in Albie Rose’s kitchen. I went over there and started pawing. And almost right away felt something. A little more pawing, and out it skittered. But not an old Dorrito, or strip of bacon, or filet mignon – filet mignon! a treat I’ve only encountered once, and we can’t go back there again – or any of the other possibilities on my mind. What rolled out from under Albie’s range wasn’t even food.
But I knew what it was, on account of being a pro at my job. You see shell cartridges from time to time in this business.
“What you got there, big guy?” Bernie said. He came over, picked up the cartridge, gave it a look. “Twenty-two long,” he said. “Good work, Chet.”
A breeze started up behind me. That would be my tail.
This entry was posted on Thursday, June 10th, 2010 at 9:29 am and is filed under Chet The Dog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.