His face was as expressionless as possible, glancing at the river card for just the barest instant before his eyes flicked back to study the face of the collie.

Not too many dogs made good poker players. Usually it was in their eyes or tail if they thought they had a good card, but Gino took his work seriously, and had practiced away those signs. Dennis couldn’t see anything obvious, but he felt a quiver in his whiskers that told him Gino had hit something. Which was probably good.

He had been dealt Valentine’s Day, king and queen of hearts.  He’d made a standard raise, and four had stayed in of eight.  The flop had come four of spades, ten of hearts, jack of diamonds. Gino had raised as the leader, defending the pot, which scattered the rest, but Dennis had considered raise, then flat called.  The six of spades was a dead card, he thought, but Gino had bet in again.  He put Gino on a pair of jacks, maybe Ace-Jack. Then on the river the ace of spades had rolled over and Dennis had hit Broadway: a ten to ace straight.

Gino’s eyes were searching his face for information. Grey fur and sunglasses revealed as little as possible. Gino paused for a moment, then passed.

Dennis felt fully the rat he was. The cheese was on the table with a good pile of chips. Could it be a trap? Three spades gave a bit of a danger of a flush, but Gino would have value bet the sure thing. A matching straight? Was Gino worried about him hitting the flush? No, he still put Gino on A-J.  He thought, considering the stacks. Gino’s was a little larger, and the pile in the middle was about a third of the table’s chips.

“What do you have, ratty?” Gino asked, ears slightly perked, pointed to pick up his heartbeat. Dennis knew he showed all the reaction of a stone. Heck, some argued he didn’t have a heart to begin with.

“Two cards.” Dennis said, then made the calculation. “All in,” he said, pushi–

“Call.”

Too quick. The rat knew he was sunk even before Gino turned over the king and jack of spades. Flushed out of the game. “Darn it,” he said, tossing his cards away. “You got me. Good check.” Dennis turned from the table and slipped out of the chair. It was only a thousand bucks, and the night was young. Still, his reads didn’t seem to be on yet.

He grabbed a water from the bar and left the room, disappointed at his misread, but not upset. He was too up, too aggressive, if he was making moves like that. He still wanted to win a small game before going to the big ones, though, so headed out from the private rooms and into the bustle of the casino floor. A hundred at the public tables would cheer him up. Time to fleece some sheep.