His flat snout—pinkish skin around the eyes, gums, and mouth—beams with potent energy. Meanness and cuteness equally combined, he possesses a familiarity, or kinship, informed by an inherited strain of caution, born in the distant wilderness from before domestication.
It’s the short, folded ears and long teeth grown for tearing. It’s the clear eyes that speak of a barely contained urge to chew. The white brute’s handler, an equally lean, wired monument to primal force restrained, has a causal, yet alert, connection to his pit bull’s leash.
Together, they dominate their three-square feet of sidewalk.
It’s cold outside Bremerton, and this is the HasBeans Coffee House. It’s under the highway-16 overpass. It’s isolated. Out of the way. Never a hub of community wealth or urban rejuvenation; most traffic flies overhead at 75-MPH without glimpsing its half-dead neon sign: For a Dollar, Mimi will Punch your Face.
K. Shawn Edgar | Retrogression | Minor Threat | Year of the Clown