The stranger scruffed Bannock's flat black ears, and reluctantly started unbuttoning his road-stained shirt. He was about down to the fourth button when the door swung open and a large figure blocked the entire doorway. The strains of "Angelina Baker" faded on the air as the figure stepped into the room. He was big -- maybe 6'4, towering over the stranger's own six-foot frame. He was hefty -- easy 280, maybe more, the stranger thought. ANother far-flung misfit finding solace among his kind, the eccentric, the too-strange, too-gifted or too-beautiful who came to the world of folk to seek respite from the mad and ugly world.

But then, he noticed the large figure's beard -- long, untamed, black with silver streaks, waving in all directions. And his arms -- thick with muscle and as big as oak trunks. Then he noticed something else. The huge man was carrying a bodhran as big as West Australia, and he looked ready to use it.

Bannock, the friendliest dog in the world when among friends, polled back his left front lip and snarled a low, throaty growl.