“I am honored that the elusive alpaca has deigned to appear.”

“It’s not my fault they don’t let me out of the basement.”

“You having a good time?”

“Delightful. Though I think I’m on my way out.”

“Stay!” Dawn commanded.

“I’m wobbly on my pins,” Alfonzo demurred.

“Hair of the dog,” Dawn’s cat friend chimed.

“I think that only applies the day after. Not in the midst.”

“Miles and I were just talking philosophy. You’re interested in that, aren’t you?”

The cat insisted on buying a round. Dawn used the opportunity to introduce Alfonzo to Miles Tigger from the Office of Media Relations, and Alfonzo realized he should have snaked away without goodbyes. Now he was on the hook for at least one more mule or moccasin. One couldn’t refuse, or at least Alfonzo couldn’t.

“Miles and I were just discussing the Good Boy method. I’m but an aspirant. He’s been at it a long time.”

“Guilty as charged.”

From what Alfonzo could glean through the deer and cat’s animated joint recap was that the Good Boy method was a self-improvement organization centered on the teachings of a single dog. He had been a champion Westminster athlete who’d nearly destroyed his life bingeing on peanut butter and chocolate. In a moment of clarity, he’d quit everything and decided to get to the bottom of what it meant to be “a good boy.” He’d gone on a quest across the country to “smell the shit,” as Miles put it, of various religions and practices. He talked with snakes who sold oil, bald eagles purporting to possess perfect vision, and wolves who advocated going back to the woods. After the dog’s journey he returned to the city and founded the FOGBOW Center—for the Foundation for Good Boy–Oriented Work—housing it in a building off Union Square decorated with tapestries, potted plants, and an indoor fountain.

What this seeking dog taught at his center was that animal nature was cruel, selfish, and wild. That modern society kept everyone in a constant cycle of panic and indulgence. Murder and decadence lurked beneath every exchange. Only through intense self-discipline could an animal gain mature awareness and overcome this cycle. Only by making oneself one’s own Good Boy could one rise above the suffering herds.

“So what does ‘one’ do at FOGBOW?” Alfonzo inquired.