Did The Pack Come Up?
Was I supposed to post about the pack, or did I do that already?
Long ago, before Bernie, before Mesquite Road and the Little Detective Agency, I ran with a pack. This was after I escaped from the crack house, way past the other side of the towers from where we are now, in the nastiest part of town. I met up with this pack, a wild kind of pack, like some I saw later when we were working a case Mexico, me and Bernie. In pack life, who’s who gets sorted out first thing. I was pretty much still a pup, so I got sorted out near the bottom. I learned a lot back then, like how to knock over trash cans, and how to run for my life. I got bigger and stronger, and then one day tried to nose in on the same trash can as the leader, this enormous dude who had something wrong with his mouth so his teeth showed all the time. A bad idea, it turned out – but right now Bernie’s tucking the .38 Special in his belt, meaning we’re out of here.
More on this tomorrow. I won’t forget.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 18th, 2009 at 7:32 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.