Hey y'all! Thank you so much for all the positive vibes. Really, it means so much. Please enjoy this next installment of my fic! I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but shouldn't be too far away. I have a ton of stuff going on right now, but also a fair amount of time to work on it. So keep a lookout for updates. Thanks again!


Bonnie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small chewy treat for the little pup, which he devoured in a second flat. Michael gave Kitt another pat on the head, and he yipped. Tail wagging, tongue lolling: the dog was eating up all the excitement and attention.

"So, Michael," the vet began. "Are you ready to take him home?"

Michael froze. "Take him home?"

The brunette stared back at him like he had 3 eyes. "…yes, Michael, Kitt will be living with you."

"K9's live with their officers?" Michael asked, dumbfounded. He turned to Devon for affirmation, who nodded.

"Yes, Knight," he hummed. "The dogs don't live at the station. An officer's dog lives with him just like any other pet dog. You'll have to feed him, walk him, train him, play with him, housebreak him-"

"He's not housebroken?!" Michael cried. Kitt's ears flattened against his head and his tail curled beneath his bum in shame. Bonnie hushed the cop and picked up the dog, scratching behind his ears.

"He's just a puppy, Michael," she cooed, not taking her eyes off the dog. "They can't just be potty trained, there is an element of physiological development that has to happen for him to control his bladder."

"You said he's as smart as a college professor or whatever. How many professors do you know walking around in diapers?" Michael scoffed. Kitt bared his teeth and uttered a high-pitched, yet slightly menacing growl.

"How many cops do you know that can't perform integral and multivariable calculus simultaneously?" Kitt sniped. "I'll put it in terms you can understand: a very large number." Eyebrows all around raised at the little puppy's attitude. The hair on both the dog's and his owner's neck stood up in anticipation of an altercation.

"Okay!" Bonnie clapped her hands to break up the fight before it began. "Sounds like Kitt is getting a little fussy. After all that hard work today, I'd say he's earned a nap. So how about you take him home, Michael, and let him rest for a little bit? It'll do both of you a world of good."

Great, a bundle o' joy running around an apartment that's barely big enough for me. But how could he resist those massive, watery eyes, the tiny moist nose, and the massive paws just itching to give a hug? At the end of the day, a puppy is an amazing gift, one that Michael Knight didn't have the heart to turn down. You can't look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, a gift super-K9, that is.

Squirming with delight, the dog looked wildly up at his new owner. "Okay, boy," he teased. "Wanna go for a ride in the car?" In spite of himself, trying in vain to maintain a professional demeanor, the Shepherd bounded towards the Trans Am and vaulted into the passenger's seat.

"Alright," Michael sighed as he cranked his car into reverse and backed out of the compound, waving a quick goodbye to Bonnie and Devon on his way out. "Where should we go to first, buddy?"

"You are the mission operative, Michael," the dog said matter-of-factly. "That is your decision."

"Well, uh," he considered. "I don't have any dog stuff around the house. We should probably start at Petco or something."

The puppy nodded. "Very astute deduction, Michael." The cop definitely picked up on the sarcasm in the little mutt's voice, but didn't call him on it.

On a whim, he rolled down the passenger side window. Kitt immediately sat up on his haunches and licked at the cool stream of air that slid in through the crack. Michael pushed it down a little lower so the dog could stick his head out. The blast of wind flattened the K9's ears against his head, which were already back from elation. He wrenched his jaw open as far as possible, and the wind caused his cheeks to puff up and his tongue to flap back and forth like a slimy pink flag.

"Oh, Michael," he bellowed. "This is incredible! I'd say 'speed up,' but you're already going 5 miles per hour over the legal limit!" Nevertheless, Michael indulged his partner's request.

They did slow down as he pulled into the Petco parking lot, however. Kitt wagged his tail when he spotted the storefront. He may have been bred to be a super-genius or whatever Bonnie had done, but deep down, he was still a dog.

"Let's go, my man!" Michael cried. He opened up Kitt's door and the dog sprang out. Nevertheless, he sat obediently at his master's heels. "Alright," Michael cautioned, adopting a stern demeanor. "Behave in there. When you walk into that store, as far as everyone inside knows, you're just a regular puppy. Nothing more. Go it?"

The "regular puppy" yipped and nodded his head in agreement. Michael started off towards the store with Kitt trotting alongside him.

Of course, as soon as they entered the store, employees and customers squealed at the sight of the little guy. A young boy bent down to pat his head, and Kitt licked his hand amicably, eliciting a delighted cry.

An employee spoke up. "Sir, your dog is going to need to be on a leash."

"Oh, he's already trained." The cashier gave the pair a suspicious side eye and watched them carefully as they began their trip.

As obedient as ever, Kitt stayed within inches of Michael's heels the entire time, scanning the area for nonexistent threats. I can tell him to turn off his voice box, Michael pondered. But not his instincts.

The first item on the cop's mental list was some kind of dog food. Bonnie hadn't mentioned if the super-dog needed special kibble or anything, so he picked up a 10-pound bag of puppy chow. Kitt whined and pawed at his feet though. Michael went to add another bag to the cart and Kitt wagged his bushy tail approvingly. He got one last bag and said sternly at his dog, "That's it. You're done."

Okay, Michael thought, checking his imaginary shopping list again. He'll need food dishes and a bed. The two guys had a wide variety of designs and colors. "Go on, pick out your favorite one, mister." Kitt grabbed a blue plastic bowl with little yellow paw prints on it and dropped it at his master's feet. Michael threw a second one in the cart, along with the matching bed. The grooming aisle caught his eye and he briefly considered Kitt's thick coat before swiping a brush and some shampoo.

He already has a collar, and he won't need a leash. Probably should get him treats and toys. He is just a kid, after all. "Okay, buddy, last thing," Michael instructed joyfully. "Go pick out a toy while I get you some treats." Kitt scrambled down to the end of the aisle, captivated by the vast selection as Knight did the same. He settled on beef flavored treats when his K9 companion returned. From his mouth hung not one, but two toys: a stuffed squirrel and a rawhide bone. Kitt pulled the puppy dog eyes and broke Michael.

Their grand total rang up to just over $150. I expect to be reimbursed for this, the cop grumbled. With too few hands to carry all the bags, he handed the plastic bag of treats and toys to the dog. Head held high, Kitt carried it swinging from his mouth as passersby stared in awe.

"Okay, buddy," Michael sighed. "Let's take you home."