With wide eyes and in enthusiastic tones Dawn and Miles described a regimen of primal barking, coordination and focus exercises, and long-distance group runs. To strengthen one’s inner Good Boy, Alfonzo learned, one should set goals, remember names, and sniff others deeply. One should develop emotional will (EW) by asking many questions. One shouldn’t waste time with frivolities. And if one followed the advice and became strong of body and mind, then one was a Good Boy destined for wealth, both spiritual and financial. Many of the powerful animals of New York were known to visit the FOGBOW Center. Movie stars, business creatures, and politicians scampered in and out of the place.

Dawn promised adopting the philosophy would change Alfonzo’s life. Good Boys invariably sniffed out success. The method had shown her how to be her own parent. “When your inner puppy whimpers, you will be empowered to say, ‘Yes. You are a Good Boy!’”

Though Alfonzo scoffed, this mention of parents troubled him. His mother would have said he was a good boy regardless, and it would have puffed him up. But he could admit this, he thought.

“Does all the canine talk bother you?” Alfonzo warbled.

“It’s not meant literally,” Dawn said. “Dog doesn’t mean ‘dog.’ Dog means ‘all.’”

The cat chimed in: “The principles are grounded in dog reality, yes, but other animals can still use the framework. We’re the same underneath, aren’t we?”

“We all want love,” Dawn yelped.

“And happiness,” Miles added. “We gather together as Good Boys to foster positivity and encourage self-mastery.”

“Yes!” Dawn enthused.

“But it’s not a free gathering.” Alfonzo felt himself getting hot with annoyance. “Isn’t it expensive to practice being a Good Boy with you all?”

Miles licked a paw and swiped it behind his ear. “I would turn that around and ask, how much is goodness worth to you?”

“So not all, then?” Alfonzo poked.

“The money is just symbolic,” Dawn insisted. “All who want to be good can be, if they make it a priority. Really, the world is divided into the good and the soon-to-be good. Once you start investing in yourself, it starts paying dividends quickly enough.”

Alfonzo gazed around the mostly empty bar. In the shadows he spied Mitchell beside an aquarium. The tall black llama was studying a floating red gelatinous creature. Behind the bar, neon pink and green squiggled. Soft air blew from a hidden vent. Alfonzo imagined himself walking away from this mounting conflict, taking the elevator to the ground floor and hailing a cab to ferry him home. He wanted to be cradled. He wanted to be transported by the magic of a professional driver to the safety of his straw bed.