“Top o’ the day.” A man in a tam’o shanter, blue and green plaid, black and white lines for definition, greeted the butcher, who stood behind his product, a case of meat, bones and all. The man’s Scottie wore boots, four of them, leather zipped on the side. A dog was welcome as long as he behaved. This one did.
The Scottie was there to sniff for bombs. He walked the length of the shop, then froze.
“Everyone out!”
The butcher grabbed bones for the dog, leapt from behind the counter. Scottie gnawed while the bomb squad did its job.
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 