Agent Canine's Whimsical Missions

I’m not a suspicious guy. Gullible? Absolutely. I’m the kind of

person who once bought a “limited-edition” air guitar for $50. So there I was, minding my own business

at Beanageddon Café, when this woman sits next to me. Oversized sunglasses. Floppy hat.

Sipping some radioactive-looking green drink that smelled like… mint, if mint had been hit by a bus.

She leans toward me and says, dead serious: “Hi. I’m twelve.”

I choked on my coffee. “Twelve?” She nodded solemnly. “In dog years.” I actually did the

math out loud. “So… you’re twenty-five?” She gave me a tiny nod, like I had just

passed a test. And that was it — I was hooked. Not romantically, not exactly — it