Hey, there! This is the first chapter in this story. :) I plan to finish it up tonight! :D I wrote it as part of a CHiPs story challenge, but the premise is fully mine. it just had to have a dog as a main character. I hope you guys enjoy this!

The characters in from CHiPs do not belong to me. Soli Deo gloria! :3


Had Jon known the events that would occur that day, he might have chosen to remain in bed. However, since he lacked such mental telepathy, he turned off the alarm on his clock and began to get ready for work. One shower and a change of clothes later, Jon sat at his counter and scarfed down his breakfast of bacon and eggs. After he slipped on his shoes and tied their laces, he deemed himself fit to depart. He grabbed his wallet and keys and exited, never dreaming that he would not return to his apartment for some time.

~*-._.-*~

Ponch raised an eyebrow and attempted to stifle his giggles. He and Jon had pulled over an elderly woman whose speed had been over the limit by at least 10 miles per hour. The scene before him was quite entertaining.

The woman faced Jon. The gnarled finger which she thrust at him seemed to convey only a small amount of the frustration she felt. "Do you realize what you've done?!" she screeched. "I'm going to be late now thanks to you bumbling idiots!" Her gravelly voice cracked at the last word.

Ponch could only imagine the old crone jerking a long, bony finger in his face and croaking, "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!"

Jon attempted to placate the woman. "It'll be okay, ma'am." He muttered, "What's got her all riled up?" under his breath. The movement of her umbrella somehow eluded him.

Hearing his partner cry out involuntarily as the object came crashing down on the blond's head snapped Ponch out of his thoughts. "Hey!" He seized her makeshift weapon and held it out of her reach. "We'll have to add assault of a police officer to your offenses." He turned to Jon. "You okay there, buddy?"

Jon rubbed his head and tried to hide his wincing. "Yeah," he responded, "she just caught me off guard."

Ponch almost chocked when he heard her mumble darkly, "You'll pay for this. . . Mark my words . . ." She snatched the ticket handed her and stalked off to her Ford Cortina. With a mutinous glare, she started the car's engine and drove away from them.

"Sheesh! She was crabby," Ponch huffed.

Jon laughed softly. He mounted his motorcycle, endeavoring to ignore the pain in his head. Shrugging away the feeling that something was not quite right, Jon asked his partner if he was ready to leave.

Ponch nodded enthusiastically in a way that made Jon's head hurt worse just thinking about it. "You bet!" he exclaimed.

The two set off for CHP Headquarters. The arrived just as Sergeant Getraer stepped up to the podium to commence briefing. He nodded at them. "Glad you could make it, boys. Oh, and Frank?" Ponch looked up at him. "See me after briefing. I have a question for you." Noting the worried look on Ponch's face, he amended his statement. "You're not in trouble."

Ponch looked relieved. As the two made their way to their seats, he whispered, "Thought I was a goner for a second there!"

"Me, too, partner," Jon chuckled quietly. Smirking, he tastefully feigned ignorance of Ponch's look of mock hurt. They sat down in the chairs. Throughout the meeting, Jon had a surprisingly hard time paying attention to the sergeant. He also seemed to be growing sleepier as the meeting went on. He barely registered the dismissal from Getraer. A pat on his back broke the trance. He snapped his gaze up to the person touching him.

Ponch beamed. "I'll be right back. Just let me check and see what Getraer needs."

Jon nodded his assent and watched Ponch go. He soon lay his heavy head on his hands, assuring himself that he had a few minutes to rest. His eyelids slowly slid shut.

~*-._.-*~

Ponch laughed, "Me? You're too kind." His dark eyes held a twinkle of mischief.

"I just wanted you to know that you would do a good job at it. Therefore, you'll be the bunny." The higher-ups had wanted to promote the police force and would be throwing an Easter egg hunt in a week. Getraer had insisted that, since every such event needed an Easter bunny, he would find the perfect bunny for them.

Ponch blinked. "Won't it get hot, though?"

Getraer nodded. "Definitely. Just drink lots of water before, during, and after it. We'll let you get away every once in a while and behead yourself so you can breathe. By that, I mean you can take off the hood. Just don't do it around the kids. We don't want to scar any of them by letting them see your face as part of the Easter bunny."

Ponch chuckled and grinned. "Yeah, that would be bad. Don't want to crush the dreams of any little kids. Well, I'd better get back on patrol. Do you have anything else to say or . . .?"

Getraer waved a hand dismissively. "Nope. That's it. Go back to work, slacker."

Ponch flashed him a smile. He hummed as he made his way back to his partner. He was glad the Easter egg hunt would be on a Saturday instead of Easter Sunday. He had been looking forward to going to church. Because of his work schedule, he had been unable to attend the last few Sundays. He planned to go on Wednesday as well. When he reached the chair where he had been seated, he asked, "Ready?" He received no response from Jon. Ponch glanced up. What he beheld confused him.

Jon's seat was empty. His clothes were piled on the seat as though he had vaporized. As if that were not odd enough, a golden retriever sat on the floor by the chair. He lay there, sleeping, his head on his arms.

"Jon?" Ponch called. "Jon, where are you?" He ignored the dog in favor of searching for his friend.

The golden retriever blinked his eyes open. He stood and pranced over to Ponch. His tail began to wag. When Ponch continued to disregard him, he barked once.

Ponch sighed. "Hey, doggy, do you know where Jon is? He was right here a minute ago. . ."

The dog barked again as though he were trying to get his attention. He nuzzled Ponch.

Ponch stared at him. Don't golden retrievers typically have brown eyes? This one's got blue eyes. Weird. They kind of . . . look like Jon's. He shook his head as if to dispel that thought. What are you thinking, Poncherello? Jon can't have been turned into a dog! That's . . . that's not possible! He looked at the dog. But maybe . . . He hesitantly opened his mouth. "Jon?"

The dog barked in a way that could only be described as happily.