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Harv was settling in at his table, arguing with Vivaldi about the propriety of a dog jumping up on everyone's laps and looking at their cards, when he heard a voice behind him say, "Sir, I believe you have my dog."
He looked up at the owner of the voice, intending to dispute the ownership of the dog, and was struck dumb. A veritable beauty. Blonde hair, curvy, exquisite face, everything he had ever dreamed of. When dreaming of blonde haired, curvy exquisitely beautiful women of course. The ones about the owl playing the trumpet and offering music lessons failed to have anything to do with his present situation.
"Gna!" he offered eloquently.
"Well, that's a good argument, but he belongs to me."
"I'd venture to say that ownership of any sentient being has been settled by many courts of law and at least one Amendment," came a voice from near the floor.
"Um. Well... Hi! I'm Harv Wallbanger. Who are you?" His extended hand was pointedly ignored.
"Vera Wayne." The woman got a slightly confused look on her face and muttered, "Although that's not as clear as it once once was. Anyway, Vivaldi is my dog and I want him back!"
"If I tied you to a rail and wandered off for hours on end, would you want to come back to me?"
"Shh!" said Harv. "Well, he seems to be rather attached to me, right now. And I did find him tied to a railing, as he points out."
"I had a bit of a distraction. I would have remembered him eventually."
"Likely story!"
"Well, by the presence of a badge on your blouse, it looks as if you're a participant in the tournament. What say you we put the dog up as stakes. As a side bet between the two of us."
"Hey!"
"Shh!" said the humans.
"Can I get in on that?" asked the nervous little man with the pencil moustache sitting next to Harv. "I have an airplane that is of quite a lot of value..." The man twitched suddenly and started counting the chips in front of him.
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