Lot of things are better when you're a dog. Never really cold much, for instance. Things smell different. There's yellow and there's blue and there's nobody expecting you to make polite conversation.

Not that Patrice ever really expects polite conversation from him. So that's well and fine.

"I ain't the wizard cop here," he says, and the puppy burrowed under his chin yawns. "That's fashionable, right? CUttin' out early."