“What’s this place?” Fleegle asks as I park the car in front of a pub with a giant pig hanging over the entrance.

“The Spotted Pig. They have a dog friendly patio for lunch.”

“What’s dog friendly?”

“They allow dogs, like Home Depot.”

“Oh, so they have hammers for me to pee on too?”

“No. No peeing once we go inside. If you have to pee you can take care of your business on the parking strip.”

There was once grass on the parking strip, but the dog trade killed it. Fleegle gives the dirt a sniff, then says, “You know how you always complain about the bathrooms at gas stations? I’m good. I don’t need to pee.”

We go through the gate to the patio around back and take a seat at a small table, all of which have water bowls next to them. A waitress arrives and fills my water glass and Fleegle’s water bowl, then hands me a menu. As I look over the menu, Fleegle drains his water bowl.

The waitress returns and refills it. “Thirsty dog. I’ll be back to take your order in a minute.”

Fleegle drains it again, burps, then sees me perusing the menu and asks, “What are we having? Do they have pizza? I smell pepperoni.”

“You’re getting the raw special with broccoli, and I’m having the shepherd’s pie.”

Fleegle rolls back on his haunches and tilts his head to the side. “I get broccoli and you get pie?”

“Yes.”

“In what world is that fair?”

“We’re definitely not in Fleegle World.”

Fleegle slowly shakes his head. “That’s for sure. In Fleegle World I’d be doing the ordering and you’d be sniffing the parking strip.”

When the waitress returns, he listens to me order with anticipation, ever hopeful for pizza, but when he hears broccoli his ears go forward with a determined look, then when the waitress heads back inside, he follows her.

I clear my throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

With a grumpy look over his shoulder, he keeps walking and says, “I’m going to find out where they keep their hammers?”

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