Category: Scruffy Dog Cafe

It was another lazy afternoon at The Scruffy Dog Cafe with a few of us regulars shooting the breeze at our unofficial table off in the corner, masochistically waiting for refills on what the Scruffy Dog’s owner generously calls coffee on his menu. Read More ➥


“You fellas might remember that I was sent over to the IBM facility in Croydon, south of London” I began, as the customary reprobates were sitting around our usual table in The Scruffy Dog. Today there was Little Joe, still hiding from the sheriff, Lois, our guardian angel who helped keep the tone polite, Shortie, who worked at the Bar None ranch out of town and who was sloughing off when he was supposed to be bringing a load of feed for the goats, and Nils, our token Skanda-who-vian, who hails from somewhere north of the Arctic Circle. Read More ➥

Another tale about the folks who gather for coffee and grub at The Scruffy Dog Cafe somewhere in the Midwest. This time Little Joe's latest money-making scheme runs afoul of the law as he tries to fleece tourists out of a buck to park in an empty field. Read More ➥