Chapter 11

A/N - Sorry for the delay in writing, but real life and the inability to put my imagination into words limited my scribblings to about 50 words per day, which can take forever to create a simple, short chapter!

Several long minutes later, and after the confusion had finally departed his muddled brain, Roy realized he was still within the thankful coils of mortal embrace and apparently also intact. He could move everything but there was a limit to how far he was able to stretch his limbs. He was lying face down at a diagonal angle with something a scarce inch above him blocking his ability to raise himself upwards or even turn his head. After a moment's thought and the rapid blinking of dust to clear his vision, DeSoto realized his cheek was resting on the rough material of a turnout coat and he was staring at Johnny's smudged chin. There was also the little fact that the back of his head was snuggled up against fur; he didn't have to make much of a guess that it was the dog keeping Gage warm and pinned.

"Johnny? You ok?" He asked, feeling the chest moving beneath him in a steady up and down cadence. Alive at least…so hopefully those odd words the younger man had yelled out would prove to be prophetic. A weird thing to say, indeed, and he wondered for a second where he had heard or read something like that before.

"Think so, would probably help if I didn't have a two-ton paramedic smashing me, and a scrawny wet fur ball with fleas licking me," Gage replied slowly, voice raspy from the still settling haze but no trace of distress coloring his retort. If anything, he sounded relieved, possible because the shepherd WAS licking his face, instead of tearing him apart. "Can you figure out what's running down the side of my face; if I move my head in that direction I'm going to get a mouthful of that stuff, and I really do need to move my head in that direction!"

He didn't need to explain his complaint as the sound of wet slurps was getting louder and faster, apparently on or in the vicinity of John's mouth. Roy grunted in agreement and stretched his hand out to touch the steady stream of liquid. He brought his wet fingers up to his nose, cautiously sniffed, and emitted another grunt, this one of surprise. He tasted it and snorted in laughter.

"Looks like a still and all the inventory fell on us; this is moonshine. Kinda explains the breaking glass I heard, and probably what that barrel was being used for."

John replied by turning his mouth a quarter of an inch away from the drool bath and letting the alcohol funnel down his parched throat. He coughed and quickly jerked his head back; he smacked it against whatever was forming an "L" shaped, hard barrier around the top and the other side of his head. He instinctively whipped his head back and sputtered, swallowing audibly as more of the liquor trailed into his mouth. The dog had stretched her head up even further and he could no longer avoid the increasing flow of moonshine. "Damn! That's some nasty stuff! Would ya quit it, girl? Lick the splinters out of my cheek if you have to use that Brillo pad on something... "

The dog responded with a happy wiggle of its whole body, the vibrations jostling both paramedics. It was on the tip of DeSoto's tongue to ask how Gage knew the dog was a girl when he came to the abrupt realization that they were being doused with liquor; somewhere up above them the unseen fire was most likely still burning. He felt the body beneath him shudder under the continuing onslaught of drool and dripping, highly flammable booze and knew the same horrible thought had just occurred to Gage.

"Can you move at all?" The question, choked out around the hasty swallowing Gage was doing, was laced with hope and an underlying trace of fear. A low whimper from the shepherd told Roy that the stray had picked up on the subtle change in John's tone. "Or reach the HT, wherever it is?"

Roy responded by inching sideways. If he could clear his partner's chest and drop the rest of his body into the narrow dirt space where his feet and part of his legs were already resting, he should be able to reach under his body and snag the HT that was digging uncomfortably into his upper thigh, hopefully before John drowned in moonshine or they both became human torches. With an audible gasp, he accomplished the feat, cheek scraping against the pebbly roughness of the dirt floor.

Now that he had the extra room, he was easily able to slide his left arm underneath and find the strap to the HT. Earlier he had slipped their link to the outside into the front pocket of his turnout pants; with a bit of awkward fumbling he managed to tug it free and extract it. He could hear Johnny shifting sideways away from the intoxicating and flammable liquid and pushing at the dog, who had finally stopped its incessant licking.

"Ok, ok," Roy mumbled, pushing both arms forward. There wasn't enough room to extend them any farther than the top of his head but at least he could get both hands on the radio and partially see what he was doing. A burst of static rewarded his steady but hurried efforts and Roy's disappointed exclamation ended in a cough. He swallowed down the dust and licked his dry lips. "Too much interference, Johnny, there's something blocking the signal."

"Yeah, I kinda heard that," was the muffled reply and Roy saw that Gage had finally dislodged the hairy creature. He had turned a bit so that his uncovered head was pushing against Roy's forearm, and had his legs drawn up as far as they could go, which wasn't much. Roy was no longer able to see the dog, but he could hear her whining and scratching by John's feet.

"What is she doing?" He asked, feeling with his right arm along the wall of their enclosure.

"I think there's a break in the wall. Move girl, that's a good girl…."

The dog obeyed and dragged her front half across Johnny's hips; he grunted and thrust his legs forward with as much force he could manage. Two more kicks and DeSoto heard the unmistakable sound of breaking wood. An eternity later, as the terrifying odor of burning materials filled the space that had first saved them than threatened to entomb them, Johnny broke through the barrier. The dog wiggled her way through on her belly first with Gage close behind her, inching his way on his back in obvious frustration at his lack of rapid mobility and the insufficient space that prohibited him from rolling over. Whatever had crashed onto the floor above them had pushed the thick wood planks downwards; the three foot height of the room had easily diminished to half of that. Roy emulated the dog by pulling himself forward on bare forearms and trying not to smack into his partner's head as Gage struggled to force his way through the small hole he had kicked open.

With a snarl of triumph, Johnny worked his shoulders through and pulled his head out of sight and into the unknown area beyond. Roy followed, hitching one shoulder up to get the widest part of him through; the rest of him slid forward rapidly as he felt his partner's hands under his arms helping him along.

The room, or storage area that they had just slithered into, was about the same size as the one they had just escaped from. The ceiling in this one, however, was only bowed in several places; a fact that John was happily demonstrating with his crouching, flat footed pose next to Roy's still prone figure.

"Check this out," he instructed gleefully, swinging his light towards the far wall where the dog was waiting. He was thankful that Gage had obviously located the captain lantern during his awkward crawl through the first room; DeSoto awkwardly pushed up and did as he was told. He could make out what appeared to be the outline of a door. He didn't have to answer for his partner was already crawling on hands and knees to their next exit with haste.

The thick smoke that was swirling through the cracks in the floorboards above them and following them through the jagged hole was incentive enough for Roy to quickly follow. He reached his side just as Gage wrestled open the last of the three heavy- duty, barrel bolt locks.

"Geesh," he complained breathlessly, trying to pull the door open and only succeeding in getting it yanked about an inch towards them. He yanked off his left glove and tossed it down, gripping the edge of the door with his fingers while using his gloved hand to scrape away the dirt and small rocks that were built up in front of it. Roy helped him, realizing belatedly that his gloves were in the pocket of his turnout pants; he had thought they were in the abandoned coat outside.

Both men were coughing frequently now accompanied by the harsh pants of the scruffy canine. The stubborn door finally cleared the debris and Johnny snatched up the flashlight and waved it quickly across wherever they were going to be heading into - whether they wanted to or not. He dropped the light into the dirt and began pulling off his heavy coat.

"Here, put this on, you're gonna need it," he advised, pushing the garment into Roy's hands. He picked up the light and shimmied out of the narrow opening feet first and his partner, without question, struggled into the apparently needed protection.

DeSoto could hear the slide of dirt and rock as Gage completely disappeared. He swallowed hard and shoved his own head and shoulders out to reconnoiter what he was about to jump into. It was definitely the outdoors, because he could smell and taste the welcome night air. A light flashed up and he caught a brief glimpse of a steep slope that ended in a tangle of bushes where John was standing. The noise of collapsing boards invading his space and the ominous crackle of fire spurred him onward; he clumsily crawled through the rectangular shaped door and was able to get his feet under him before losing his balance. He created his own avalanche as he sped downhill on his rear.

He was stopped by a thick, prickly wall of brambles, thankfully slamming into the dense hedge rubber boots first. As he struggled to stand and regain just a shred of dignity, he understood why Gage had given him the coat; the thorns were greedily stretching out their dagger pointed tips seeking purchase. Helping him into an uncomfortable crouching position, John uttered a colorful word and Roy seconded the word choice as they both struggled to avoid the tangle of overgrown bushes. It would be another addition to the dictionary in his mind that he had started at the beginning of the shift and which showed no signs of being completed anytime soon.

"What the devil are these things?" he asked in irritation, feeling a bit guilty as he noted the bleeding scratches on his partner's wrist where the light weight jacket had ridden up. Johnny noted his gaze and shoved his sleeves down to cover the exposed skin between glove and material.

"Dunno, blackberries maybe? And, maybe some other things growing in there with them? There's some dried up ones still hanging up there, see?"

The flashlight illuminated the shriveled remains of berries and Roy nodded in agreement as he scanned the area around them. His anxiety ratcheted up a notch as he realized the head high jungle extended the whole length of the side of the barn where they were crouching, and at least a hundred yards beyond on both sides, forming an impenetrable fence. The steep embankment butted up against it prohibited any kind of walking or even crawling along its edges and judging by the amount of smoke escaping through the walls and roof of the barn, he was sure they had very little time left before the whole structure blew up from the illicit moonshine.

Patting his pocket, DeSoto was dismayed to find that the handi talkie had disappeared. It had either fallen out as he had crawled through that last storage area, or had vanished while he had been struggling with the turnout coat. Probably hadn't got it all the way back in…..he added another word to his mental dictionary and jumped slightly when Gage's hand thumped his shoulder.

"Way I see it, we got two choices. Either we crawl along this blackberry wall, snagging our clothes and moving like turtles, or we follow that dog through that hole." The loud barking blasting from the general area Gage was pointing towards confirmed the whereabouts of the stray; from the other direction they could also hear the welcome sound of men's shouts and the distinct noise of water spraying from hoses and an aerial nozzle.

Roy stared at the jagged edges of the tunnel John was shining his light on and opened his mouth to negate the last suggestion; there was no way he was going to follow some animal's tunneled out trail. With the luck they were having, it would probably lead to a den of bears or something equally big and ferocious. Of course, that was if they made it that far as there was the very, very strong possibility that when the barn did blow, the dry branches would ignite and they would be caught in the middle of it like kindling at a campfire.

He snapped his mouth closed as he saw the gleam in Johnny's eyes and realized he had made his choice already. In fact, he had turned away and was already forcing his way through the prickly bushes, doing a fairly good imitation of a burrowing animal. A quick shake of his head and Roy followed, trying to leave a safe distance between his face and the booted feet he was crawling after. Their progress was slow but steady; the thorns were impeding any kind of fast escape with their clutching claws tugging at their clothes.

Several long minutes later the claustrophobic passage opened into a tiny clearing paved with brilliant green grass. Both men stood up slowly, stretching abused muscles and glancing warily about. Aside from the panting dog, there was no sign of any other inhabitant of the fairy like enclosure.

"Is it just my imagination, or does it feel like Tinkerbelle is going to come flying through here, sprinkling her fairy dust all over the place?" DeSoto asked with a grin, pivoting in a slow circle. The wind had picked up some more but was effectively blowing the clouds away from the full moon, giving them the advantage of a soft illumination over the whole area.

John snorted as he pulled off a glove and dropped it at his feet. "More like the wicked witch of the east, or was it the west?" He tentatively sniffed the air before touching the fresh scratches on his face and wincing. "You think they got that fire out? Must not have been much of that whiskey in there, otherwise….."

He let the words trail off, rubbing a hand across his chin reflexively as he gazed towards the barn. Roy followed the look. "I think so and probably the only stuff left was that one barrel that shattered all over us."

"A spark could still…hey! Give that back, you mangy….." the dog backed up, Gage's glove clutched in her mouth and growls emitting from her curled lips. "Ah hell, I thought we were past that stage, just take the stupid thing!"

The shepherd whirled and plunged through another, smaller opening that appeared to continue in the same direction they had been traveling. Johnny scuffed his boots through the lush grass and bent down to check out the hole. He stood up with a groan and shook his head. "Barely big enough for a rabbit, let alone that dumb dog. What's she doing?"

Roy sighed and did a visual sweep of their tiny sanctuary of an island in the midst of a thorn thicket. There were more openings, yes, but none big enough for either one of them to crawl through. "Your guess is as good as mine and besides, aren't you the expert on animals?"

"Where'd you get that idea?" Gage demanded, trying to brush off some of the dirt that was clinging to his still damp turnouts, and failing. He glared at Roy, but his mouth was turning up at the corners and betraying his mock indignation.

"Probably after watching you herd chickens across the road, that's what started that line of thought. And that cat making itself at home on your chest, those llamas you were wrangling across the parking lot…do I need to go on?"

"Uh huh and how do you explain two scorpions, the mosquitos, those stupid parrots that did their business on me…" he trailed off as he considered the impenetrable brush in front of him and then looked up, assessing the height. Here the hedge was about a foot higher than what it had been where they entered. He shrugged off his blue jacket and looked over at the older man. "Hey, let me have my coat back and give me a boost up."

Roy's eyes tracked over and upwards. He raised his eyebrows but unfastened the coat and stood behind his contemplative partner. "I suppose you want me to throw you up there on top of that…er, jungle?"

"That's the plan, unless you want to camp out in here all night."

"Obviously not, but why don't we just crawl back the way we came in and shout for help on the other side of this thicket? It looks like the fire is out."

Both men stood silent for a moment staring at the night sky above the two story barn. The wind that had been whipping the clouds only moments before had subsided somewhat but was still strong enough to flip Gage's disarrayed hair into an arrangement that was even worse than it had been. There was no sign of flame, smoke, or anything else; the sounds of men overhauling was a welcome relief.

Johnny took the coat still held loosely in Roy's two hands and shook it out in front of him, regarding it dubiously. "They're not gonna hear us for quite some time, we're not going to be able to crawl along or up that slope without sliding right back into this mess, and….." He looked over his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. "And I'm hungry and there's an ostrich egg calling my name."

"Oh," was all the older man could think to say, at least for the moment. Hadn't they just eaten two hours ago? The food had finally settled in his stomach but he was definitely not hungry or anywhere even close to it. "I suppose you'd better take my glove since the dog made off with yours."

Gage accepted the proffered glove with a bigger grin, pulled it on, tossed his blue jacket over his shoulder, and held the turnout in front of him like a shield. He lifted up a foot and waited as DeSoto cupped his hands and placed them under the hovering boot.

"Ready?"

"Yep!"

It was a clumsy landing but perfect with Johnny throwing the heavier coat in front of him to land on. He still managed time for a few scathing words as with grim determination he scrambled on hands and knees to the edge of it, tossed his blue jacket down, and scrabbled forward once again. Roy lost sight of the booted feet immediately and as he stepped backwards to try and get a better view, he hoped this would be the last time this shift that he would be staring at the bottoms of his partner's feet.

Hearing him but no longer able to see anything, Roy turned a slow circle and peered upwards, watching as the clouds scudded through the early morning sky and covered the moon. A brief flicker of light caught his attention; it winked out but then reappeared a second later a few feet away. Several more of the lights flitted by and Roy raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sight.

"Fireflies in Los Angeles, in California even? You have got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed out loud. He ran a hand over his face and briefly closed his eyes. When he reopened them the tiny lights were gone and once again the moon had been uncovered, illuminating the area with its pale glow. He shook his head, dismissing the rare sight as a hallucination. At least five minutes slid by and then the distinctive and welcome sound of their southern lineman's shouting filled DeSoto's sanctuary. An extension ladder and a long fifteen minutes later had Roy standing outside of their prickly enclosure, surrounded by snickering firemen and a panting dog eagerly lapping up water from a helmet. Johnny, a look of disbelief on his face, stood next to the animal holding his stolen, drool soaked glove.

Peters slapped Roy on the shoulder. "I was just telling John here that the mutt saved your lives."

"Is that so? How?" The paramedic asked curiously, moving out from under the heavy hand and rolling his shoulders backwards then forwards. His whole body felt sore; he wasn't used to spending so much time crouching or crawling, at least through basements and brush tunnels.

"Why she came running over to us, dropped Gage's glove at my feet, and commenced a round of barking that would put a hound to shame. She led us here, yanking me along with her teeth when I didn't go fast enough; thankfully, that was just in time to catch your buddy here before he face planted into the dirt." He jerked a thumb towards Johnny, who responded with a scowl and then followed the defiant gesture with a sheepish shrug, confirming the truthfulness in the last sentence of the lineman's statement.

"I think we would have been found sooner or later, and I'm sure John would have landed just fine – it wasn't that far of a drop," Roy replied mildly as he glanced at the dog that had finally stopped drinking and was sitting at their feet. She looked up at him, her opened mouth resembling a smile and her tan eyes gazing soulfully at his face. The darker hair above each of her eyes resembled eyebrows, (did dogs have eyebrows?), and right now those ridges of hair were alternately going up and down, up and down like some kind of blinking traffic light. He had to smile at the strangeness but also the cuteness of it.

Peters was shaking his head as they trudged through what appeared, and felt like, the remains of a corn field that had never been cleared of the dead stalks. The skeletal corn that remained brushed against their knees and thighs, rustling and scratching at their legs as bad as or even worse than the spiked tips of the dead berry bushes. And to top it off, DeSoto swore he could hear other odd noises emitting from the churned up dirt and weeds. Funny little sounds that could be from any number of four footed animals, although rats seemed to be occupying the number one spot in his imagination right now, with skunks and raccoons pushing a close second. He jumped when the gregarious lineman thumped a hand down on his t-shirted shoulder, again. He winced, both from the discomfort and the disturbing thought of having to explain these bruises to his wonderful but often wildly imaginative wife.

"What is it Peters?" He asked, stopping. Johnny bumped into him with an audible grunt as Roy looked over at Abraham, barely able to contain his sigh; it seemed his adrenaline was wearing off. Peters stopped alongside of the paramedics and the three men created a tiny island on which the other two firefighters from a different station detoured around with weary steps, carrying the ladder.

"Nothing major, DeSoto, just was curious how you paramedics got yourselves stuck in the middle of that mess yonder," Abraham Peters replied in his thick drawl, finally removing his hand and gesturing towards the thicket, on their left, with it. Fifteen feet ahead was the unclimbable steep slope that had prevented their swift escape – looking at it now Roy realized if it had been purposely banked that way to keep trespassers away from this side of the barn and the escape hatch that the stray dog had found underneath. While the blackberry bushes may or may not have been part of the deterrent, surely they couldn't have been as big as they were now; he couldn't help wonder if the folks making the illicit booze had ever had to use that route to escape.

He smiled, and once again stretched his neck and shoulders. "I just followed my partner here, let him explain the logic."

Beside him Gage snorted but kept his comments to himself. By the time they reached their engine, a good long trek around the back of the mammoth structure and then along the opposite side, the cleanup had been finished. Their two rescuers from Engine 14 had stowed their ladder and were climbing aboard their vehicle; the engine roared to life and rumbled away. This left only their Crown at the scene along with several deputies who were waiting to take the paramedics' statement concerning the fire within the barn. The noises Roy had heard above him in the loft had belonged to three older teenagers, who had narrowly escaped by leaping from the hay door – the smaller door above the main entrance John and Roy had entered. The kids would have probably made a clean getaway except for the fact that one of them had landed wrong and broke his leg; the other two had gone for help instead of abandoning their friend.

"They were smoking up there, weren't they?" DeSoto queried, glancing over towards the car where two heads were visible in the back seat.

The deputy nodded. "Yep, along with helping themselves to that stash of bootleg up there. All three drunk as skunks; they didn't feel a thing when they hit the ground, even the one with the busted leg."

"Skunks, figures," Johnny muttered in disgust, but his lips were twitching in barely concealed amusement at the man's choice of words. They finished up with the law, checked in with Captain Hammer, and finally caught a ride on the back of their engine over to where the squad was parked.

"We forgot to pick up my coats back there by the barn," Roy realized, stopping abruptly and wondering if they had been run over by one of the trucks.

"Nah, Johnson grabbed them and tossed 'em on the engine. Had a few choice words to say about what was holding the two coats together, too."

"I bet he did."

Opening the driver's door, DeSoto staggered against the frame as sixty pounds of fur swept by and jumped up into the seat. Johnny, who was already seated, let out an exclamation of surprise as the stray plopped down and rested her head in his lap.

"Well hey now,'" he crooned softly, scratching her ears. "She must have followed us clear across the yard, Roy."

"Yeah, suppose so, but what do you plan on doing with her?" He leaned into the cab, scrutinizing the tail that was fanning across his seat in a slow, sideways swish of fur, dirt, and burrs. At his question, the dog upped the tail wagging to medium speed and impatiently butted the hand that had stopped petting her.

Gage cleared his throat and resumed the scratching of ears, looking down at the shepherd and deliberately avoiding the questioning gaze of his partner. "Uh, find her a good home? I can't have pets…you don't have a dog do you?"

"No dog, no animals what so ever, at least for right now while the kids are little," he replied, debating whether to push the dog over or just make her get out of the truck.

"Well there ya go then! Come on Roy, I'll pay for her vet bills, you know, get her checked out, groomed, and such; I'll spring for a bag of dog chow too. How can you say no to a face like this?"

Johnny lifted the dog's muzzle and turned her head so that she was gazing with liquid brown eyes towards Roy. The tail switched to high speed and Roy couldn't resist an eye roll at the enthusiasm being displayed by both the canine and his partner. He gently nudged the back end of the dog, and was surprised when she gathered her feet under her in a coordinated move and turned around on the narrow expanse of seat, plopping her head down on his lap as he quickly sat in the vacated space. He ran a thoughtful hand over her head as he turned the key in the ignition.

"I would have to the talk it over with my wife, of course, and more importantly see how the dog gets along with kids….I can't take any chances, Johnny."

"Of course not," John agreed amiably, smiling and looking in the passenger side mirror as they started forward. "Must not have been a lot of booze in that barn, huh? They got that fire contained pretty fast."

"Nope, just that one barrel like I thought."

"Lucky, real lucky, all of us…" the spoken thought trailed off and an uneasy silence hovered in the cab as they considered how close they had been to the dark presence that always hovered over them.

Roy cleared his throat, not ready for a deep discussion about the grim reaper and the business he conducted on a daily basis. "I'm wondering how Peters knew that glove belonged to you."

Johnny giggled. "I kinda, well, wrote my name in them. Between the gloves and my helmets, I seem to lose them a lot?" He laughed again and Roy cast a dubious glance towards his suddenly lighthearted partner, wondering if he was supposed to answer the statement that had turned into a question. He decided to go with his own question.

"Gage, are you feeling ok?"

"Sure, why?" Another snicker and even the dog lifted her head and looked over her bony shoulder towards the grinning paramedic. Johnny thrummed his fingers on the seat and then walked the long digits up the stray's side and scratched lightly; she groaned in happiness and a hind leg began a rapid bicycling motion as he apparently hit a ticklish or sensitive spot. "Although…."

DeSoto watched the taillights of their engine disappear from view as it gained the paved road and accelerated. He slowed and steered around a pothole that in the waning darkness appeared big enough to swallow their truck, tapping his own fingers against the steering wheel. "And?" He finally prompted, curiosity getting the best of him.

"What proof do you think that moonshine was?"

"Pretty high, I suppose, I guess it depends on whether it was already diluted with….oh!" He braked and stopped the squad so that he could focus his full attention on the kid shifting in the seat next to him. "How much of that stuff actually went down your throat?"

John bared his teeth in a wide smile. "I've been told that I'm a happy drunk, and to answer your question, probably a good pint went down the hatch."

"Oh brother, no wonder you went flying over that hedge like Superman," he muttered, reaching for the radio. He paused, peering down at the mutt who returned the look with a toothy grin as cheerful as Gage's; she belched and he jerked her head back as alcoholic fumes assaulted his nostrils. "Is this dog drunk too?"

"She was licking the stuff off my face, you know. And for your information, I'm not intoxicated, at least not too much; I'm just in a good mood." His fingers stilled in the dog's fur and he turned his head towards the side window, thinking about something. "I'm thinking Spiderman….."

"Say what?" Hand still hovering in the general vicinity of the mic, DeSoto gazed blankly at Johnny.

"More like Spiderman, not Superman, and let me tell you, DeSoto, I LIKE to climb, so that's my usual speed." Nodding, Johnny settled back in the seat with a triumphant wiggle and resumed petting the dog. "Aw man, life is good, isn't it?"

Hearing that odd comment and making an effort to wipe the idiotic expression off his face, one that he could feel stretching his eyes wide open and dragging his chin down to the collar of his t-shirt, Roy blew out a breath and took a long moment to stare out the window. He relaxed as he took in his surroundings outside of the cab - the sky was beginning a slow change of color as the sun started its daily climb even as the moon hovered obstinately in the opposite direction; he then fastened his attention on the scruffy, happy occupants within who were really beginning to grow on him. "Yeah, right now it sure is."

~TBC~

A/N – This chapter is dedicated to one of our two beautiful, loyal German shepherds who lost his battle with lymphoma last year. He had the eyebrow thing down to a science, loved to use his head to butt you for attention, and could clear five foot fences with a clumsy but effective leap and scramble. We also referred to him as a reverse raccoon, as the last couple of years he had white appear around both eyes – even his vet couldn't figure out what that was about! And yes, this is the dog I mention in my notes for "Again" – he liked to sleep up against the fridge, especially during the summer. RIP, Appa….