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"My college roommate had this bitch mutt, part Doberman and German Shepherd," said Doggett. "The dog was real sweet, but kinda greedy. I drank too much Southern Comfort one night and had to make room for more, if you know what I mean. So this dog follows me into the bathroom, and I heave before I can make it to the can. What was in my stomach lands on the tile. For only two seconds. The dog looks up at me and licks her lips like she wants more. And you know what?"
"Dear god, what?" muttered Reyes, unsuccessfully peeling the label from her fake beer.
"I'm so frickin' grossed out that I keep puking, and she swallows all evidence of it before it hits the floor--"
"And that," she interrupted, grabbing the bowl of pretzel crumbs from him, "is why you're a cat person."
"No. It's why I'm not an organ donor, Monica."