They sat on the bench in silence, staring straight ahead at the laundry tumbling in their respective dryers. The small dog on his knee was an inheritance of sorts, from an ex-girlfriend last seen on the back of a Harley, fresh tattoo still healing on her thigh, leaving him behind for parts unknown. The large dog had been meant to provide a sense of protection, but had mainly protected her from the prospect of a second date, having chased a long line of suitors off her front porch never to return.
The small dog looked at the large dog. The large dog looked at the small dog. And though neither could speak, they caught a glint of awareness in each others’ eyes, a shared spark that united them in thought, and in that brilliant moment they both knew… they really, really liked bacon.