Sonny, I Insist

Pain shot through the woman’s teeth with the touch of an ice cube in her mouth. She grimaced, then held the glass of a watery daiquiri out to the black and white dog. She aligned the straw inches from its mouth.
 
“It’s safe, Sonny. I promise.”
 
The dog growled.
 
“Oh, Sonny, stop it. You’d like it if you could drink from a straw.”
 
Looking straight ahead, the dog maintained his place on the bar stool. The woman’s black 1960’s retro hat and veil suited her pale complexion, but her smile didn’t suit her funeral outfit.
 
“Are we going to be friends now, or what? You gonna let me take you home, or you gonna let that miserable bartender throw you out into the alley way. He won’t feed you like I would, ya know.”
 
The dog wasn’t sure about the name she called him. Sonny. It sounded like Buster, or Mister, or something stupid like that, when they couldn’t find an original name suitable to the breed. The dog turned his head away from the drink, and would have rolled his eyes if they had moved that way.
 
“Stan.” The woman leaned most of her body across the bar and called towards the opening between the rows of shining glasses and lines of bottles. “Stan. Come here and give me another one of these. Sonny wants his own glass. Forget the straw.”
 
Stan came back to the bar, wiping his hands on his grimy apron. “You paying?”
 
“Course I’m paying.” The woman dumped out the pretzels from the small ceramic bowl in front of her. “Here. Put it in this.”
 
Stan bent his head forward and squinted. “You’ve had enough.”
 
“This isn’t for me. It’s for the dog. Ahh. Come on, just give Sonny a drink.”
 
“He’d probably prefer water.”
 
The dog looked at Stan as if to say, Really? and turned his head towards the woman.
 
“See. He wants it. Come on. Pour him a drink.”
 
Stan made a face and turned to pour the shot and juices into the metal container adding several ice cubes.
 
“Hey, not so much ice. The dog’s not a young pup. He’s probably got sensitive teeth.”
 
Stan was about to reach into the mixer with his hand to remove some of the cubes, when the dog growled. Stan turned his head toward the dog, slowly removing his hand. He reached down into the container and the dog growled again. Up and out, silent. Down and in, growl. Up, quiet; down, growl. “I don’t believe it.” Stan shook his head, put the lid on the shaker, and gave it a furious shake. He looked at the dog, then at the bowl the woman held out. He poured the foaming liquid into the bowl holding back the chunky remains of ice.
 
“Here you go, Sonny. Now drink up. You’ll love it.” She hiccupped, proving how much he would love it.
 
The dog gave a sniff, and a quick slurp. Then he licked the froth off his lips and slurped up half of the beverage.
 
The woman turned to Stan and flashed him a big smile. “See, I knew he’d like it. Come on little fella, drink up.”
 
The dog cleaned the bowl, licking the sides. Stan set it over to one side and pointed out the spilled ring of daiquiri to the dog. The dog tipped his head sideways.
 
“See. He’s got good training. He’s not gonna lick up the counter.” She gave a stern glare in Stan’s direction. “We don’t know when you cleaned it last. What’s the bill?”
 
“Sixteen-ninety with tax.”
 
The dog turned on his seat and jumped to the floor, timing it just so he walked out the door as a man entered. The man tipped his hat to the dog and glanced up to see a woman in a smart black outfit sitting by herself.