Pepe’s patience had reached the bursting point. Master Jim had promised, yes he had, not one but two nose watering steaks as a reward. Hadn’t Pepe been a good boy? Hadn’t he suffered three interminably long days and nights in this bug-infested camp ground? Ay, Chihuahua, he wasn’t even allowed near the best spots: the fish-cleaning shack and the scent-heavy latrine.
Sí, sí, Pepe was going to get his reward. Swimming in that cold lake, enduring the maulings of several child campers, and now, waiting here sweater-less, shivering . . . he almost wet himself . . . but it would be worth it.