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Authors: Garrett Dennis
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and always had been, going way back to his college days when this had been Happy Hour time. Old habits die hard - he still preferred to stay up late, rise early, and nap at some point during the day, a routine he'd first established out of necessity while living in the dorms. Advancing age had if anything reinforced this tendency rather than diminishing it, perhaps because older folks, at least the ones who are still vital, are loathe to waste time sleeping when the end is nearer, he thought. Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead - there was truth in that adage.
"So Jack, pretty soon we'll have some company. You'll like that," he said as he stroked the dog lying next to him on a throw rug. The dog had already inferred this from Ketch's recent activities, of course, and though he appeared calm he was in fact vigilant and slightly tensed in anticipation. He got more attention at parties, as well as a tasty tidbit now and then, and he did indeed like that.
This dog was a smart one, probably the smartest one Ketch had ever had. He couldn't speak, of course, but his listening vocabulary was prodigious for a dog, and he knew his way around and how things worked. He was a handsome five-year-old brown and white beagle/labrador mix, bigger and heavier than a beagle but smaller than a large lab - or to look at it another way, small enough to be manageable but big enough to be a factor to be reckoned with in a confrontation, as Ingram had learned earlier today. And emotionally, the dog had probably done more for Ketch than any high-priced therapist could have, in Ketch's opinion. Ketch figured he could maybe have another ten years with this one if they were both lucky.
Regarding longevity, i t had once amused him to measure his life in terms of the number of dogs he'd had instead of in calendar years, but it was less amusing now that he might be a last-dog man, or at least a penultimate-dog man. There had always been dogs in his life, as far back as he could remember; and they'd always been loved; but as always he loved this last one the most.
The dog abruptly rose up and started wagging excitedly. Ketch didn't restrain him, as the dog wouldn't leave the deck without permission. Ketch hadn't himself seen, heard, or smelled anything out of the ordinary, but he knew the dog was right and someone they knew was on the way. Sure enough, a minute later the Captain's pickup pulled into the graveled drive and parked next to Ketch's.
" Hey, I see y'all finally got a date!" the Captain's voice blasted from his open window, flushing some small birds from the underbrush. He hopped down from the cab and lowered the tailgate. "Gimme a hand with this cooler. Len and Mario loaded 'er for me, and she's a heavy ole bitch even with nothin' in her."
Ketch obliged while the dog waited on the deck. "So, are they coming then?" he asked.
"Said so," the Captain replied. "Them and a couple beach bunnies that was hangin' around the boatyard, didn't know 'em offhand. Hope you don't mind." He made a show of squinting at Ketch. "There's somethin' different about you tonight, but I can't pin it down." He snapped his fingers. "I know! Did y'all get some action this afternoon?"
"I guess we know what's on your mind this evening," Ketch observed with a tolerant smile. "No, that's fine if they all come. But maybe I should order some pizza? I don't know if we'll have enough fish." He grunted. "Why is this cooler so heavy? Let's just leave it down here by the grill."
"I stuck some beer and flounder I had l ayin' around in there along with the cobia, brung some chips an' such too by the way. We'll have enough to eat. Think we should fire it up?"
"I guess so. I told Kari we'd start grilling at six, and it must be a bout that time now." Ketch remembered the poor dog patiently waiting on the deck. "Jack, you can come!" he called, and the dog raced down the steps to greet the Captain. "I probably already have enough beer, you know."
"Well, you never know, we'll have
"So Jack, pretty soon we'll have some company. You'll like that," he said as he stroked the dog lying next to him on a throw rug. The dog had already inferred this from Ketch's recent activities, of course, and though he appeared calm he was in fact vigilant and slightly tensed in anticipation. He got more attention at parties, as well as a tasty tidbit now and then, and he did indeed like that.
This dog was a smart one, probably the smartest one Ketch had ever had. He couldn't speak, of course, but his listening vocabulary was prodigious for a dog, and he knew his way around and how things worked. He was a handsome five-year-old brown and white beagle/labrador mix, bigger and heavier than a beagle but smaller than a large lab - or to look at it another way, small enough to be manageable but big enough to be a factor to be reckoned with in a confrontation, as Ingram had learned earlier today. And emotionally, the dog had probably done more for Ketch than any high-priced therapist could have, in Ketch's opinion. Ketch figured he could maybe have another ten years with this one if they were both lucky.
Regarding longevity, i t had once amused him to measure his life in terms of the number of dogs he'd had instead of in calendar years, but it was less amusing now that he might be a last-dog man, or at least a penultimate-dog man. There had always been dogs in his life, as far back as he could remember; and they'd always been loved; but as always he loved this last one the most.
The dog abruptly rose up and started wagging excitedly. Ketch didn't restrain him, as the dog wouldn't leave the deck without permission. Ketch hadn't himself seen, heard, or smelled anything out of the ordinary, but he knew the dog was right and someone they knew was on the way. Sure enough, a minute later the Captain's pickup pulled into the graveled drive and parked next to Ketch's.
" Hey, I see y'all finally got a date!" the Captain's voice blasted from his open window, flushing some small birds from the underbrush. He hopped down from the cab and lowered the tailgate. "Gimme a hand with this cooler. Len and Mario loaded 'er for me, and she's a heavy ole bitch even with nothin' in her."
Ketch obliged while the dog waited on the deck. "So, are they coming then?" he asked.
"Said so," the Captain replied. "Them and a couple beach bunnies that was hangin' around the boatyard, didn't know 'em offhand. Hope you don't mind." He made a show of squinting at Ketch. "There's somethin' different about you tonight, but I can't pin it down." He snapped his fingers. "I know! Did y'all get some action this afternoon?"
"I guess we know what's on your mind this evening," Ketch observed with a tolerant smile. "No, that's fine if they all come. But maybe I should order some pizza? I don't know if we'll have enough fish." He grunted. "Why is this cooler so heavy? Let's just leave it down here by the grill."
"I stuck some beer and flounder I had l ayin' around in there along with the cobia, brung some chips an' such too by the way. We'll have enough to eat. Think we should fire it up?"
"I guess so. I told Kari we'd start grilling at six, and it must be a bout that time now." Ketch remembered the poor dog patiently waiting on the deck. "Jack, you can come!" he called, and the dog raced down the steps to greet the Captain. "I probably already have enough beer, you know."
"Well, you never know, we'll have
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