Chapter 7

Starsky's fate seemed sealed, when unexpectedly a large, dark form broke in through a cracked window of the warehouse, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.

It was... BUDDY!

Before Peterson could drop the match onto Starsky's lap, the massive dog lunged at him, knocking him down to the floor and knocking over the table with the gun. Peterson lost his hold on his knife and the match, as the dog went straight for his throat. The felon covered his head with his arms in an attempt to protect himself, and tried desperately to scramble to his feet. There was no trace of the gentle giant Starsky had known before. His rage unleashed; Buddy looked like a werewolf from a horror flick, tearing its victim apart.

With a frantic pull, Hutch managed to break a segment of the pipe and set himself free. However, his hands were still cuffed at his back. He looked around the floor, searching for Peterson's gun. Despite being unable to use it, the blond one wanted, at least, to keep it out of the perp's reach.

Then, he saw it. Peterson's match had fallen into a small puddle of gas mere inches away from Starsky's feet, starting a fire.

"Starsk!"

Had he not been cuffed, Hutch could have dragged the gas-soaked Starsky away from the flames and put them out with his jacket before the fire could grow out of control.

But this was not the case.

So without thinking twice, the blond one did the only thing he could to save his partner from being set ablaze. He threw himself onto the fire, rolling back and forth. He felt the piercing pain of the flames biting at his skin for several agonizing seconds before his own weight extinguished them.

Meanwhile, Peterson was still struggling to fend off the vicious attack of the dog, trying with all his might to push it off, while simultaneously attempting to reach for the claspknife that rested on the floor a couple of feet away from him. The strong animal didn't budge an inch. Furious growls and blood-curling screams filled the warehouse as the uneven fight continued. Then, with his last ounce of strength, the perp managed to reach his knife and stab the dog between his ribs.

However, it was too late for Peterson. In that same moment, Buddy reached the man's neck, biting into it and tearing his carotid artery.

With a pain-filled yelp, the dog released his hold on his dying prey. Staggering a few steps, he crumpled into a heap on the floor as Peterson bleed quickly to death.

For a moment, around Hutch everything was silence...

And then Collins and two uniformed cops stormed into the warehouse to meet a hellish scene. A man was lying in a large puddle of his own blood, his lifeless eyes wide open. Starsky was tied to a chair, badly beaten, gas soaked and barely conscious. Hutch, a short distance away from him, was hurt as well. And a large dog was lying motionless on the floor, bleeding and whimpering softly.

"Bennet! Untie Detective Starsky! And you, Martin, call dispatch and ask for an ambulance and the coroner," Collins commanded. He rushed to Hutch's side, quickly uncuffing him, as the two uniformed cops did as he'd ordered.

"God, Hutch!" Collins said placing a hand onto Hutch's shoulder and looking at his burnt chest and abdomen.

"I am ok, Collins, don't worry," Hutch answered. He hurried to kneel by Starsky's side and helped Bennet free his friend from the ropes. Actually, the blond one was far from ok. His torso was fiery red and it was starting to blister. It stung like hell, but his injury could wait. In this moment, he only wanted to help Starsky.

"Starsk, it's over, partner, I´m here..." Hutch soothed his friend. He produced a handkerchief from his pants pocket and began to gently clean Starsky's bloody mouth and nose.

"Hutch... you... you're... h-hurt," Starsky said feebly, pointing at his friend's chest with a trembling hand.

"A bit of sunburn, Starsk, no big deal," Hutch joked, holding his partner's hand.

"H-hurts, Hutch... hurts..." Starsky mumbled leaning forward and wrapping his arms across his abdomen, where Peterson's goons had punched him pitilessly several times.

"I know partner, I know it does." Wincing, but not caring about his own pain, Hutch held Starsky close in his arms. He was preventing him from falling headfirst off the chair, but also offering some comfort to his hurting friend. From a short distance away, Collins watched in respectful silence, and with a pinch of well-meaning envy, the interaction between the two men; the raw display of their love for each other, and their unbreakable bond. He was there for his fellow officers if they needed him, but he didn't dare to intrude.

"Hold on, Starsk. Help is on its way." Then, with Collins' help, the blond detective gently lowered his injured friend off the chair and onto the floor, sitting by his side and placing Starsky's head on his lap.

"The... the dog, Hutch... h-help... help Buddy." The brunet pointed weakly towards the dog "He... he's a h-helluva good p-partner... al-almost as... as good as... you,"

Hutch glanced at the momentarily forgotten dog. He was panting fast, struggling to breathe.

"Bennet! Martin! Rush this dog to the nearest vet clinic and keep pressure on its wound until you get there!" He firmly commanded the two patrolmen. With a wince, he took off what was left of his jacket. He tossed it to Bennet, who caught it midair.

"What if it bites, Sergeant Hutchinson?" Martin asked fretfully, glancing at the injured dog.

"Listen, Martin, if not for this dog, you all would've found a very different scenario here." Hutch said, adamantly. "Now, move!"

Bennet and Martin picked Buddy up off the floor, gently loading the dog into the patrol car. Somehow, Bennet managed to squeeze himself into the back seat to apply pressure on the bleeding wound, as the car rushed, mars light on and siren wailing, to the nearest veterinary clinic.

So, the dog is real after all. Hutch thought, staring vacantly at the bloodstained spot where Buddy had been. And thank heavens he is...

The sound of an ambulance siren getting closer snapped Hutch out of his reverie.

OOOOOOOOOO

Many things had happened in the last few months.

Starsky had a hard time recovering, even just getting back to where he'd been before Peterson had held him and Hutch captive in the warehouse. Eventually though, he was back on his feet and feeling well enough to carry on an almost normal life.

Hutch's burns had been diagnosed as first and second degree. Given some time and the proper treatment, they eventually healed nicely, leaving only the merest hint of a scar here and there.

Regarding Buddy, it had been touch and go for awhile, but finally, the dog was out of the woods and on the mend. He had lost a large amount of blood, and a pierced lung required surgery. Luckily though, a skilled team of veterinaries managed to save the life of the brave giant. Taking into account how viciously he'd attacked Peterson, once the dog had fully recovered, he was put through a series of behavioural tests and obedience training to make sure that he wouldn't be a threat to anyone else, under normal circumstances.

The team of trainers, and the animal behavior consultant in charge of the process, surmised that Buddy might have been trained to be an attack dog. If so, the odds of him being able to live peacefully among ordinary people, especially children, could prove very slim. In the worst case scenario, it would be downright impossible. Fortunately, Buddy's team were determined to do their best to re-educate the dog and give him a chance to get adopted.

With this in mind, they asked at several dog training centers, veterinary clinics and even police precincts in the area, if anyone had reported a missing or stolen police, military or guard dog. When no one came back with a positive response, they feared that Buddy might have run away from a mobster or drug dealer. Ultimately, where the dog came from, and the nature and extent of his training, remained unknown.

Soon, the training sessions began.

A few months went by, and once Buddy's training was completed, Carl Rodgers, the chief of the trainer's team, asked Starsky if he would be willing to help. He wanted Starsky to be a test subject to check on the behavior of the dog after his training.

"Ok, Detective Starsky, given that the dog has shown extremely aggressive behavior while protecting you, while at the same time being entirely gentle in any other circumstance, we'd like to try something…" Rodgers explained to Starsky. "If you agree, I would like a member of our team to fake an attack on you. We'll see how the dog reacts to you being attacked, versus how he reacts to seeing other two members of our team playing the same role. Rest assured, we'll do nothing that might harm you or jeopardize your recovery process at all. Trust me; we know what we're doing."

"Oh, well, yes, of course, I'll be glad to help," Starsky agreed, willingly.

The next morning, having assured everyone that he was feeling well and was pain free, Starsky was at the training center, in a closed, large room, with Buddy wearing a basket muzzle and tied by a 32 ft long training leash fixed to an anchor ring securely attached to the wall. This was to prevent the slightest chance of the dog attacking any of the trainers, or (though everyone agreed this was very unlikely) Starsky.

"Ok, now Steve and Lou here will fake a fight and see how the dog reacts." Rodgers explained, gesturing towards two members of his staff.

A few moments later Steve and Lou were rolling over a gym mat, pretending to fight. During this exercise, the dog simply barked, clearly nervous and wanting the fight to end, but not showing any signs of wanting to attack the men.

Then, it was Starsky's turn.

"Steve will shout at you and pretend to attack you," Rodgers explained. "Don't worry, he's very experienced with this type of test. We actually we do it fairly often, when we are working with dogs who suffer from aggression issues. He knows perfectly well how to convincingly fake an attack without harming you at all. Feel free to shout back at him, but please, don't arrest the best movie stuntman we have on our staff, Detective," Rodgers joked, smiling to ease any possible nervousness on Starsky's part. "The words Steve will shout at you don't matter at all. What dogs react to is to the body language and the tone of voice, not what people in an argument or fight are saying... Ready, Detective?"

"I am ready when Steve is," Starsky said, feeling a mix of unease and curiosity.

The trainer approached Starsky, and began to play his part. With a swift movement he stepped behind Starsky and put him in a choke hold. Without applying any pressure, Steve shouted, "AM I HURTING YOU? JUST TELL ME AND I'LL STOP RIGHT AWAY. ARE YOU OK, DETECTIVE? IF SO, I NEED YOU TO FALL ONTO THE MAT ALONG WITH ME. CAN YOU DO THAT?"

"YEP, I'M FINE, YOU JUST KEEP ON!" Starsky shouted back, trying to sound mad and pretending he was struggling to release himself from Steve's grasp, as they both fell onto the gym mat. Meanwhile Hutch, who was outside the room, looking at the scene through a wide glass window, was getting a bit nervous. Even knowing that the attack on Starsky was fake, it looked so real that he had a hard time restraining himself from storming into the room to help his partner.

Steve, having been previously informed that Starsky was still recovering from serious injuries, proceeded very carefully. His words were kind even as he was shouting them angrily, and the way he handled Starsky was outwardly aggressive, but also carefully controlled and considerate of Starsky's comfort. The mix of kind words and his anger-loaded tone of voice, plus aggressive actions, made this a most bizarre, almost comical experience for both Starsky and Hutch.

As expected, Steve and Starsky didn't need to play their roles for more than a moment before getting a reaction from the dog. As soon as the trainer grabbed Starsky and shouted at him, Buddy went berserk. He began barking and growling menacingly at Steve, jumping on his hind legs, and showing his teeth. The fur along his spine stood on end, as he lunged forward, repeatedly trying to reach the trainer. Buddy was yanking at the leash with such force that the anchor ring, despite being tightly secured to the wall, seemed to give way a little. If the test had lasted much longer, odds were good that the dog would have pulled himself free and attacked Steve.

However, before that could happen, Carl stepped in front of the dog, and raised his palm towards Buddy. In a firm, commanding tone of voice, he said, "Buddy, stop!"

Instantly, the dog relaxed his stance and sat on his haunches. Panting heavily, Buddy stared intently at Starsky and Steve. He was clearly still concerned, however, he was no longer behaving aggressively.

And so, the test was over. It proved that the months of intensive training had worked. Even so, the trainers were still puzzled by the strong protective instinct the dog continued to display towards Starsky; a man who wasn't even his owner, and who had only interacted with him a handful of times. None of them, in all their years of experience training dogs with a wide array of behavioral issues, had ever seen anything like it.

"Calm and docile, while also protective and a guardian by nature. He is uniquely overprotective toward Detective David Starsky, however he reliably responds to commands even when under stress. Like most Newfoundland dogs, Buddy is gentle and emotionally stable, perfectly fit to be adopted and live among adults and children." was the final conclusion of the animal behaviour specialists' report, once Buddy's training had finished.

Starsky, of course, would've liked to adopt the dog that had saved his and Hutch's lives, but he knew that once his sick leave was over, even if he was restricted to desk duty, the animal would be spending too many hours alone. So, even though the decision pained him, he wanted the dog to go where he'd be happier.

To everyone's surprise, Collins stepped in and adopted him.

"Ya know, guys; what Amanda wants, Amanda gets," he explained, almost apologetically. "My wife has always loved Newfies, and after learning how Buddy saved the day in that warehouse, well, she was hell-bent on adopting him. What could I do? She threatened to make me sleep on the couch every night until I said yes."

Starsky and Hutch laughed, trying to picture the tough cop sleeping on his couch until he gave in and humored his wife. TBC