What happened was, Coyote wanted to walk the dog early. Get it out of the way. Have all afternoon. To clean, maybe. To get caught up on work. She sat in front of the door, anyway. Expecting. The sun was climbing into the blue sky and the dog wanted to go and then he’d have all afternoon to himself.
Ambling, they paused, sat down, in shade thrown by slim trees every hundred yards or so. It took longer than he thought.
They got home, sweat drying, skin tingling. And what he did was open a beer.