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Other titles in the Bloodhound series:
A Brace of Bloodhounds (Bloodhound)
Synopses & Reviews
Chapter One Perfection, Thy Name Is April
April 13, Saturday, 8 A.M.
Jonathan Webber and I were still lazily ensconced in the kitchen. He was feeding the last slice of bacon to Bobby Lee.
"You cooked too much bacon," I commented.
"You're just jealous because Bobby Lee is leaning on "my leg instead of yours."
"Not true. Every time you give Bobby Lee something, I have to feed Rudy a bite. He's getting tired of biscuit balls."
"Your ornery cat would find fault with filet mignon," he retorted.
"Jonathan, love of my life, you and Rudy have to learn how to cohabit these premises during your visits. You two have me sandwiched in the middle of this feud. Can't you be friends?"
"He started it," Jonathan replied shortly, burying his nose in the paper.
Jonathan carefully folded the paper. He leaned his head under the table and in a falsetto voice began to croon, "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
It was such a blatant failure I had to laugh. Rudy stared at him with contempt, twitching his tail in disgust.
"See? I tried." Jonathan sounded vindicated.
"Need any help?"
"You cooked, so I wash up. Go take a walk to help digest thatenormous breakfast you consumed."
"Yes, ma'am. May I take Bobby Lee?"
"Only if you ask Rudy to go."
"Wanna take a walk, Bobby Lee?"
Bobby Lee lunged toward the office doorway, heading for the front porch where his leash hangs on a large nail. Jonathan knelt in front of Rudy, staring into his large green eyes.
"0 Prince of Darkness, a.k.a. Rudy, would you care to go?"
Rudy began grooming himself. Jonathan grinned.
"The feeling's mutual, pal."
Jonathan doesn't have a weight lifter's physique or classic good looks. His medium-brown hair and dark-brown eyes are the same as mine, but his hair lies neat and orderly around his ears and neck, while mine is a riotous, naturally curly disaster ninety-nine percent of my waking hours. But when he smiles, his face glows with intelligence and joy and love, and my heart beats romantic tunes on my ribs, and I wear a permanent silly grin.
We've been lovers since last November, but our emotions are still new and untested. Jonathan is the police chief for Eppley, Georgia, which is right on the Tennessee border in the northeastern part of the state, a little over three hundred miles away. Since we both have heavy work schedules, our arrangement is to take turns every other weekend to drive the long commute. I've had to cancel twice, and he's canceled once. We leave on Friday morning and have two nights and a day and a half together, starting for home Sunday noon. So far, we haven't achieved an easyfamiliarity, but we haven't experienced a single moment of boredom — at least as far as I know — so I guess it all evens out.
We walked together through the grooming room and into the kennel area. I automatically started pushing the utility cart, stopping at each caged run, opening the feeding panels, removing the large aluminum bowls from the stands, and stacking them in the cart. Jonathan started guiding the cart while I gathered the bowls...