Free a Coyote's in the House (2004) by Elmore Leonard

the role I play, Buddy said, I don't expect anything, virtue being its own reward. They say that in the movie?
    My owner, the dad. Remember at the end how I'm getting all this attention and the reporters are talking to the dad? He says, 'Buddy didn't rescue little Pedro to get his picture in the paper. Buddy only did what he had to do.'
    Yeah, well, it works okay in a movie, Antwan said, but real life, man, that's different. I can imagine you thinking maybe a big steak, blood running out of it, wouldn't be too bad.
    It sends the wrong message, Buddy said. The pat on the head and the tidbit shoved in your mouth is okay. It's what we're used to. I wasn't a hero this time anyway, with Lola. It was a setup and I'd just as soon forget the whole thing. He looked toward the house. I might as well go inside and let the dad yell at me, get that over with.
    Wait, Antwan said, his ears standing up, hearing a voice from inside the house. He's talking loud to somebody right now.
    It wasn't a minute later the dog door pushed open and Antwan frowned saying, Who's this?
    Betty? Buddy said, sounding like he wasn't sure. Then, It is, it's Betty.
    A Miss Betty that Antwan had never seen before. Her thick mane of creamy hair gone, her topknot gone, her puffs and pom-poms, Miss Betty shorn down to a short coat covering her, all of her show decorations gone, zipped off.
    You're a dog! Antwan said to her.
    Meaning it as a compliment, Miss Betty now looking like she was supposed to, what she was, instead of like a wedding cake with a black nose on it.
    You're a regular dog.
    Miss Betty looked at him with a terribly sad expression and ran back in the house.
    I haven't seen her like that, Buddy said, since she was a pup. Why don't you talk to her, tell her she looks great.
    I did, Antwan said.
    I know what you meant, Buddy said, but she needs something more than just being called a dog. She likes you. See what you can do while I go in and get yelled at. i s s B e t t y was s i t t i n g in her room by the window, looking out, staring like she was lost in thought, her back to her trophies, not even looking around when Antwan came in.
    He didn't bother with the door, he went over to her and said to the back of her head, I have to ask you, don't you think you look fine with your new sleek and swift look?
    No answer playing that game with him again.
    He said, Come over here with me. She didn't move. Antwan took her ear gently in his teeth and brought Miss Betty over to a pink oval mirror on a stand and placed her six feet away from it.
    He said, Look at yourself. Go on, do it. Antwan nipped the back of her head, raising it, and she stared at her glum expression in the mirror. Okay, now say to the mirror, 'You looking at me?' I'm kidding. Say to the mirror, 'Girl, you look fine.'
    She hesitated. He nipped the back of her curly, crew-cut head, and she said, I can't.
    Turn sideways. Go on, you got nothing to lose.
    She did it, she turned.
    A little more . . . There. Now look over your shoulder at the mirror and say, 'Girl, you are a cool chick.'
    I can't.
    Cock your hip a little bit. You know what I'm saying? You're cool and you know it . . . That's it. All right, now say the line.
    I can't.
    There's nothing to saying it. Look in the mirror and say it like being cool is no big deal.
    You are a cool chick, Miss Betty said.
    You sure? You don't sound it. And you forgot 'Girl.' Girl, you are a cool chick.
    You're almost there. But now you have to slow it down. Know what I'm saying? Put some funk in it, drag it, like you're listening to hip-hop in your head and you're on the beat.
    Miss Betty said, Girl? and paused. You are a coool chick, you know it? Yeah, I know it.
    You got it nailed, Antwan said. Tell yourself that every four hours and call me in the morning.
    Miss Betty's gaze followed him out the door, before returning to the mirror. he next day the group photo of Buddy, Lola and the hunters appeared on page three of the Los Angeles Times.
    The headline