It was hearty, all-confident, and it produced confidence in Michael.

It was roughness without hurt, assertion without threat, surety without seduction.

To him it was the most natural thing in the world thus to be familiarly seized and shaken about by a total stranger, while a jovial voice muttered: "That's right, dog.

Stick around, stick around, and you'll wear diamonds, maybe." Certainly, Michael had never met a man so immediately likable.

Dag Daughtry knew, instinctively to be sure, how to get on with dogs.