Brigit
Brutus was on duty tonight. He was an okay coworker. He gave her a friendly tail wag when they crossed paths and he’d never tried to mount her. She would’ve had him on his back and her fangs at his throat if he had. He had a good nose, too, though not as skilled as Brigit’s, of course.
They stood near the squad cars, engaged in a silent K-9 exchange.
Having a good shift? Brigit asked.
Not bad, he replied. Would’ve been better if I could’ve had a slice of that pepperoni and sausage pizza I smell on your breath. My human wouldn’t let me take one.
Don’t ask next time, she advised. It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.
The next thing she knew, Megan was directing her into the back of Mackey’s squad car. Brigit could tell it was his by the smell. One part feet, one part onions, one part dumbass.
Unlike the specially equipped K-9 cruiser she and Megan used on the job, this cruiser was outfitted for human transport. She climbed onto the seat, squeezing in between Megan and Paige. There was barely enough room for her to fit her fluffy rear between theirs. She looked out the window and saw Brutus being loaded into his enclosure. Too bad she couldn’t ride with him and catch up on the office gossip.