We find a funny little taverna, a ways off the main drag. The owner (and waiter, busboy, etc) was a kick (in his stained and somewhat fragrant sleeveless undershirt), he had had a Greek restaurant in New York City for 20-some years, but came back "home" and opened one in his house. We joke about food and women and New York and life in general, and he chooses our lunch: moussaka, beef in lemon, and a big fat Greek salad. A neighborhood dog ambled by, all eyes met, and he may have sensed a connection (by that, I mean "easy mark"). he waited patiently a few yards away, keeping an eye on us. When we left, his dog-sense paid off - apparently i had pocketed a few morsels of my lunch in my napkin, and I may have then accidentally dropped them as we approached him. He gobbled them up, followed us for a bit, then wandered off in search of greener pastures. If you're ever on Zaykinthos, stop by my new friend Deni's place, and tell him I sent you.