Title: Whatever Happened to Bellhound and Dancer?
Chapter: 2
Author: DianeB
Rating: G
Characters: Emma Peel
Summary: In re-watching the episodes now, I could clearly see huge gaps in story lines where fanfic could be inserted, and that's what I'm doing here. I consider this story more character-building than "secret agent shenanigans." Also, I like dogs, and it was obvious Emma Peel did, too. This chapter, aside from one word near the end, is all narrative.
See Chapter 1 for Author's Notes and Disclaimer, except for one thing I forgot
there and add here: Thanks to my Mighty Editor Goddess, Brenda, for her
steadfast support, both grammatical and emotional.
oOo oOo oOo
Back in her flat, sans Steed, who'd floored the Bentley away before she'd even gotten the dogs inside, it didn't take Emma more than an hour to make arrangements for Bellhound and Dancer to be accepted by a well-established (and well-vetted) Borzoi rescue, located in the London countryside.
Unfortunately, that acceptance couldn't take place right away, and so she found herself the foster of two large dogs for at least a night, and perhaps two or three.
However, given that the dogs were well behaved, quiet, and seemed genuinely content to be with her, she didn't think it too much of an inconvenience. As usual after closing a big case, she and Steed had been given a few weeks off, so she certainly had the time.
Once she knew the dogs were going to have a safe place to live for the rest of their lives (or maybe even be adopted by a loving family), she spent some time on the telephone with the director of the rescue, learning all she could about the breed.
The two dogs had already shown how intelligent they were, and had obviously been well-trained and loved, at least by Glover, if not by the rest of the rotten team. But she learned they could also be independent and stubborn, and that – as was equally obvious – they shed. A lot. Her couch was already coated with several shades of long dog hair, as was her outfit.
They would also need to be fed and watered, so they'd need bowls, and because they were what was known as a "giant breed," the director mentioned the option of buying what she called "raised" bowls, to keep the dogs from having to bend so far over to reach a food bowl on the floor, thus preventing possible neck or spine problems. But she cautioned that this could cause bloat in the giant breeds like Borzoi, who were susceptible anyway, so the raised bowl might not be the best idea. After all, the director added, all dogs had basically evolved to eat from bowls on the floor, so that was really the best way to go. They'd have to be large bowls, of course, because the dogs were large. Emma was further advised to figure on four to six cups of food per dog, per day, to be given in small feeds over the course of the day (to prevent bloat, you see).
The director went on to say the dogs would need leashes, brushes (to keep all that shedding at bay, Emma figured), and a few chew toys, though the director again went on to say that because these sounded like adult, well-trained animals, they probably wouldn't need toys as much as untrained puppies would, but they would need nice, long walks at least once a day, or twice, if one had the time. Because Borzois were sighthounds, the leashes would definitely have to be sturdy, and Emma would have to be on alert during walks, to avoid being taken down and dragged by a sighthound chasing a squirrel that she'd never seen.
Inspecting the leashes that came with Bellhound and Dancer, Emma could once more see that Glover had cared very much about the dogs. The leashes were well-made and identical, a matched set to match the dogs.
By the time she ended the conversation, Emma knew more about dogs in general – and Borzois specifically – than she ever thought she would. Still, her talk with the director, who clearly loved the breed, made her more than confident that she'd made the correct choice.
Emma looked at Bellhound and Dancer on her couch, who were lying down looking like live bookends looking at her, and thought for just a moment how nice it might be to keep them, and then sadly dismissed the idea, knowing how impossible it would be, given her occupation and Steed's opinion.
"Come," she called to them, lightly patting her thigh, and watched them shift soundlessly off the couch to sit in front of her, as if they'd been doing it all their lives. It broke her heart, but gave her another dose of confidence that she was doing the right thing.
She affixed their leashes and set off for the nearest pet store.
End Chapter 2.