Loyalty

"I guess it's pointless to ask you to fucking knock, huh Phil?"

"Sure as shit Hank.  I haven't knocked in the 30 years I've known ya.  Not going to start now."  Phil shut the door and the dog looked up in his direction with disinterested regard.

"Any Jager?" said Phil as he made for the cupboard above the fridge.  Bruin now lifted her head, a little more interested in Phil as he opened the door where the dog biscuits are kept.

"Yes there is, but something tells me that I won't be able to give you the same answer in pretty short order."

"Ha! Fucker!  Here it is.  Whatchya doin'?"  He brought down the bottle and closed the door.  Bruin lay her head back down on her front paws with a sigh, unfulfilled.

"I'm blogging."

"I thought you gave that shit up."

"I thought you wouldn't come back."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I'm blogging again.  Not sure if either one is a good thing.  And use a fucking glass!"

Phil laughed as he wiped the dribble of Jagermeister with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

"What are you writing about now?"

Hank looked blankly at the screen.  "Loyalty." he said.

"You writing about the dog?.......Eh, Bruin is he writing about your sorry ass?"  The dog was unmoved.

Phil got up again and went back to the kitchen.  This time instead of the cupboard above the fridge, he opened the fridge itself.  He opened the package of bologna and scored a slice.  He returned to the couch, now under the interested gaze of the dog.  He set the meat on his knee.  Bruin was transfixed.

"No, I'm thinking of writing about Her."

"Don't fucking do it, man.  You know where that will bring you.  C'mere, Bruin!"

Injected with adrenaline, Bruin bounded toward Phil with abandon.  Phil tossed the slice and she caught it in flight.  She made short business of the meat and settled down at Phil's feet.

"You are right.  I'm not going to write.  There is no loyalty.  Just people food.  Hoo'er!

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Later,

Deaner