The dog, Walter, saunters into the bar. He’s greeted by the drunken guests.
“Oooooo look, a doggie!” One woman said with intoxicated excitement.
A man made a clicking noise with his tongue and cheek, his hand outstretched.
Overwhelmed by the shouts and commands of cock-eyed people, Walter retires to a small room at the back of the bar. The tipsy crowd moves on to the regular mode of entertainment, hockey.
The bar owner had come to know Walter. One day, Walter came inside the bar because of the blistering cold. He just wanted somewhere warm to stay. Ever since that day, the bar owner always left him an old pillow to lay on in addition to a bowl of water and food.
Walter liked the bar owner, Jerry. Unlike the drunken crowd that he served, Jerry is reserved and quiet. Walter often wondered how he got into the bar business. He was too kind to be working long nights with nasty crowds. Perhaps it was good money, Walter often thought while he stayed in the back room. Or maybe he inherited the bar?
After washing down treats with water, Walter lay on the pillow to warm up. Through the thin walls, he could overhear booze driven conversations. Most of it was slurred nonsense or small talk, but then he hears something interesting.
“Did I – did I tell you about-about the hidden t-t-treasure?” One man said, heavily slurring his words.
“Wha? Hidden-den treasure?” Another man replied, equally intoxicated.
“Well not tre-treasure, but loootsss o’ money. A couple d-died several years-s ago. They were m-m-murdered and the money was s-s-supposedly left.” The first man said.
Walter wondered, could it be real? Or just two drunken men shooting the shit? Walter decides he wants to find out. He leaves the comfort of his pillow to find Jerry.