Who sat in the passenger seat?

Choices:
A. not enough information
B. Cerberus.
C. Dingo.
D. Luna.
Cerberus.
Cerberus just stared at me. The dog didn't blink, he didn't pant, he didn't move. He just sat in the passenger seat as I drove, relaxed, mouth hanging slightly open, looking at me the way someone examines a menu but can't decide on the chicken or the veal.
The desert sky was on fire when the city came into view. Cerberus turned away from me and stuck his head out from the side of the jeep, his giant tongue flapping in the eighty mile an hour wind while I dialed Luna's number. The dog pulled his head back in, then rested his chin on top of the overhead roll-bar, his fur blowing back along his head like the spines of a porcupine.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Luna."
"Dingo! Are you there yet?"
"No, not yet. I'm just outside the city." Vegas flashed and blinked under the starless sky. "You get in touch with Mr. Waciejowski?"
"Sure did. He's at the Denny's near the Excalibur. He's trying to stay away from the blackjack tables."
"Yeah, good for him. He has the box?"
I could hear Luna stuffing something disgustingly healthy in her mouth. "Mmm hmm."
"He hasn't opened it, has he?"
She swallowed. "Nah. I told him it was filled with old photos."
Cerberus shifted in the seat and scratched behind his neck with such force that the whole Jeep shook; a rather unsettling motion at 80 miles an hour. "Hey Luna, I've got a question for you."
I looked over to see the dog's nostrils flared out in the wind while his lips blew back and revealed his frightening set of teeth.
"This, uh, this animal spirit guide you had me try to find. Do they ever show up, you know, in person?"