I’m trying not to add a dog. I’m trying real hard.
It was a tale as old as time. Somebody had something valuable enough to steal, so it got stolen. Now somebody else wanted it back, but quietly. I don’t know why they always want it back quietly. Maybe if enough people made a fuss, more thieves might get scared off.
I’d say that the Devil was in the details, but apparently that’d be exactly backward. “It’s a relic,” Father Miguel explained. “A piece of the True Cross — ah, do you know what that is?”
“Just the basics,” I replied. “Holy relic from the death of your god, right? Supposed to have miraculous healing powers, vaporizes demons on sight, that sort of thing. They’re supposed to be really powerful relics, too.” I politely didn’t add, So why does your church rate one?, because I’m classy that way.
From the pained look on Father Miguel’s face, he had heard my thought anyway.
Perhaps the dog owns a sub shop down the block from Garapenna’s?
Maybe the dog owns a taco truck often parked near the beach?
Certainly the dog doesn’t run a .. hot dog cart …
Mew
p.s. or is nicknamed Shah …