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Dog City: Laying Low By Tempe O'Kun

Canine detective Ace Hart has a nose for trouble...and a soft spot for the chief of police.

Watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zJhwYiKMP8

---

I stepped out of the car and looked around. The scents of my city, Dog City, wafted past my nose: crime and kibble. I'm Ace Hart--private eye, dog.

The police station shone like a lighthouse on the pier of all this urban decay, all glass and polished brass.

I sprang up the stairs like a spaniel, slipping past the regular shields. They had their paws full, trying to break up a cat-fight between two scratch-and-sniffs they'd brought in. Between that and the catnip ring they'd broken up, I never envied the mice squad. Felines knew how to use their claws.

No, my sights were set higher. A doggy walk's worth of stairs later and I reached the door of DC's top cop: Chief Rosie O'Gravy.

Her scent carried me closer. Though the open door, I saw her behind a heavy wooden desk, phone in paw. "...I don't care how close to Doggy Jones' locker the mayor's golf cart is. Tell him, if he borrows a squad car again, he'll be putting with the fishes." The phone clacked onto its receiver.

I nosed my way into her office, tipping my hat back. "Smooth talk for a rough collie."

"Ace Hart, don't you have some other gal's heels to nip at?" Rosie eyed me as I walked in, paws on her hips, ears cocked like a .45. Those emerald eyes softened, though. "A big shot detective like you must have a whole kennel of grateful female clients."

"Nah. I may not be married to the job, but it certainly keeps me engaged. Besides, you ever seen me sniffin' around other dames?"

She crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair. Her badge glinted in the pale lamplight, familiar as the night sky and just as easy to approach. "I just figured you chased tail off the clock."

"My clocks don't have any tails, toots, though I've always been a fan of yours."

Her eyes narrowed to jade slits. "Oh really?"

With a muzzle-wide grin, I tipped my muzzle at her wall clock. "Sure! I mean, look at it. All business; ticking away every minute, just like it's supposed to, never losing a second."

A smile broke through her facade, small and dangerous as that bombardier beagle we'd put away. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to swoon and lose a little time with you?"

I chuckled, settling into her guest chair with a wag. "Actually, this is the part where I toss out the idea of maybe catchin' a play tonight."

"You want to go to a play?" She tilted her head, amused. "In a theatre?"

"What?" My paw pads traced the tickets in the pocket of my slacks. "Every pooch needs a little culture now and then."

"I'm sorry, Shamus." She stood, looking any way but mine. "I promised my father I'd stop in." Her old man thought I was a bum, to a degree I'm sure offended bums aplenty. "My niece is staying for the weekend; they need to be rescued from each other. You know how it goes."

"Yeah, I know. No big deal." It really wasn't. At least she didn't just say she had to wash her fur. I willed my paw away from the tickets and reached into my coat for a small ledger instead. "I also know how we're cracking the Cocoa Kibble Caper." All over the city, dogs had been eating grass after buying chocolate-tainted kibble. The numbers for the production run had somehow disappeared, but, with a few bones in the right muzzles, I'd gotten my paws on a list of the contaminated shipments. I waved it under her nose.

A soft yap of a laugh. "I've been running the boys like greyhounds trying to find those records." A few steps brought her next to me. One slender paw collected the ledger, while the other rested on my shoulder. I'm not a touchy-feely sort of guy, but, in the years I've known Rosie, she's never needed much reason to put her paws on me. Her green eyes smiled my way. "How do you--?"

Her gaze flashed to the window. To the street, twenty feet down.

"Ace!" She tackled me from my chair. "Down boy!"

Machine-gun fire tore through the walls of her office.

Together, we rolled under the heavy wood desk. As glass and masonry rained down around us, all I could think about was to keep my body between hers and harm. Well, that and how I'd only owned this fedora three days and it was going to get ruined if some pug thug plugs me. What a shame.

The gunfire cut off.

Tires squealed like a startled beagle as the crooks laid down rubber, roaring onto the highway.

Plaster dust billowed around us, powdering Rosie's sleek muzzle. We panted in each other's faces, dazed dogs for several seconds at least. Then...

"Ace?"

"Yeah?"

"I think the gunmen left."

"Oh, that's why you tackled me. I figured my charms had suddenly gotten to you."

"Let me up, you wag."

I rolled over.

Somewhere in the shooting, Rosie had gotten her paws on a rolled-up newspaper. Back to the wall, she got to her feet ready to bludgeon someone with the broadsheets. Her ears pinned back against her head, she looked ready for a fight.

I crouched behind the desk as she peeked out the shattered window. "Friends of yours?"

She didn't answer.

Against my better judgement, I stood. My paw ended up on her shoulder, drawing her back from the window. "We gotta get you out of here."

"I'm not whipped or a whippet, Ace..." Sharp little teeth bared with each syllable. "I'm not running."

"You wanna at least get away from the window before someone realizes you ain't been whacked?" I led her to a less-perforated section of wall. Shreds of wallpaper waved in the breeze. So did her fur. Dog, she's beautiful. "Please?"

She growled, her paw crushing the newspaper. I could see her working through the angles in her head while she worked that fine-boned jaw. Her ears lifted. "Fine, Shamus."

"Good." I straightened my tie, giving her a straight look. "Now play dead."

~ ~ ~

Twenty minutes later, I trotted back to the Hudson. One turn of the key and I was just another car being directed through the police blockade.

I gnawed at a sliver of rawhide; dirty habit, I know, but we all have our weaknesses. Another of mine grumbled from behind me.

I smirked. "Funny how it took a mob hit to get ya in my backseat."

"Funny as a faulty flea collar." Rosie pawed the old blanket away from her face. Her voice took this all in stride; her hair was another story. "What'd the mayor say?"

I lifted a lecturing digit from the steering wheel. "If Chief Inspector O'Gravy were to have survived, he would order her to lay low."

"You'd better not be yanking my leash, Shamus."

"I'm not." I pulled onto the highway. "Besides, can't hurt to start some rumors you were put down."

"Can't hurt anything but the department's reputation, my reputation."

"Down, girl. Let somedoggy else collar whoever tried to whack you."

"And you're the dog for the job?"

"Nah. Plenty of bloodhounds back at the station to take care of that. I'm just tagging along."

"Kind of you to offer, but I don't need shepherding."

"You kiddin'? Anydoggy worth his kibble will know we're close. We're both hiding out at my place until this all blows over like a sheepdog's combover."

A moment of quiet. "Take the Turnspit turnpike."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're right. If word gets out I'm still among the barking, somedoggy'll be by to take you for a walk." For the first time since the shooting, I heard her voice soften a little. "I know where we can hide out."

Chewing harder on my rawhide, I followed her lead.

~ ~ ~

I slammed the door to my trusty Hudson Commodore, taking my leave of the musty garage. Dusk cloaked the neighborhood in a grey glow: a modest, if quiet development. A squat, white house hunched like pouting Pomeranian. "What's the deal with this place? The owner owe back-scratch taxes?"

"Something like that." Rosie kicked a loose paving stone back in place. Her slender paws brushed dirt from the ring of keys she'd dug up. "As chief, I'm authorized to tag a few seized residences as safe houses."

"And this was the pick of the litter?" I trailed a digit along the cracking paint, watching pale chips rain down. Tall weeds with downy leaves tickled my paw pads.

Metal jingled. Rosie growled and drove a shoulder against the door, which swung open to reveal dim shapes draped in cloth.

I nosed into the room, stirring dust with every step. Heeling on a heel, I turned to face my bonny collie. "Nice digs."

She muscled the door back in place, then snapped the lock and cocked her ear my way. "Your taxes at work."

Lights worked. We had power at least. After a quick investigation of the cupboards, I cracked open a couple cans of His Master's Choice, fried it up, and divided it into two bowls with names I didn't recognize. This took me five minutes, minimum. The pretty dame I drove here still stood with her back against the door.

"Rosie?"

The chief snapped back to reality, reading my face in an instant. "I'm fine, Ace."

I raised one of the bowls in salute. "Din-din."

Her nostrils flared just a little. "HMC Extra Spicy?"

"Nah, they only stocked Choice Classic. I did my best to spice things up for you."

A small smile as she accepted the bowl. "You always do." Exhaustion had crept in around her eyes.

"I know how you like it. C'mon." With my free paw, I snatched the dust cover from the couch, causing dust to billow out everywhere. We both coughed as I turned on a nearby lamp.

Rosie checked the shades before collapsing next to me. "We'd better leave these drawn, or it's curtains for me."

"Hey, I'm not going to let anything happen to ya."

"Comforting sentiment, Ace, but I'd rather not take any chances." She ate a spoonful of the chow. A smile like hers'll make anydoggy wag. "Not bad. I didn't know you cooked."

"I always cook, sweetheart. Sometimes I even prepare food."

She smiled around another bite. "Look who's the cocky spaniel."

"Ah, you could probably cook me into a corner." I chowed down.

"Never learned, actually."

I swallowed hard. "You? You swam the Catlantic solo, worked with Albark Einstein, and ya can't cook?"

"Doggy paddle, a college internship, and no." Her voice sounded dreamy, distant.

I spent several minutes hoovering up the rest of my food, licking out the empty bowl and setting it aside. Pretty good, if I do say so myself. "Good to know you're not a super dog, just super." I waited for a snappy retort, but it wasn't snappy. In fact, I didn't get a reply at all.

Rosie leaned against me, breathing steady, eyes closed. I'd never seen her asleep before. I moved to get up, but she buried her nose deeper in my fur with a murmur of protest. So, instead, I cleared the half-empty bowl off her lap and set it on the coffee table, switching off the lamp beside us. With my arm over her shoulders, she seemed to relax. I couldn't resist giving her hair a light kiss, then sat, contemplating the night.

~ ~ ~

I awoke with Rosie's paw on my chest, her head on my shoulder, and my tail asleep. Not a bad trade, though I soon fidgeted my tail free of the cushions.

A soft voice at my ear: "I was wondering when you'd get up." Her paw slid to the back of mine, digits interlacing with mine.

"Been dog-watching long?"

"Figured I'd let sleeping dogs lie." She kissed my cheek, unhurried.

"What was that for?" Smiling, I collected my hat from the cushion it had fallen to in the night.

"If you hadn't grabbed me by the collar, I'd be charging into a trap."

"The other coppers would let you do that?"

"I'd make it happen."

"Guess we know who wears the pants down at the station."

"Tough to chase crooks in a poodle skirt."

"Tell me about it, sweetheart."

"The dignified life of a private eye. How do you do it?"

"Hard work, clean living, and associating only with the classiest ladies."

"Don't make me wag." She squeezed my paw once, then got up. "I've got some phone calls to make."

~ ~ ~

A day later, I lay on the sofa, trying to catch some Z's in a pool of afternoon light, but all I could hear was: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

"Rosie, would ya quite tappin' your foot like that? It's like having a woodpecker in my brain." That same instant, I regretted saying it. I'd spent the last twenty-four sculpting chow into meatloaf and stir-frying kibble, while Rosie went stir-crazy. I felt for her; a type-A dog like her isn't meant to be cooped up inside. It's just not in her breed.

The chief of police shot me a look, but didn't respond. Lucky for me, she had no intention of breaking the Clothes On The Bathroom Floor peace treaty.

I shrugged an apology, which she accepted over the outdated magazine she was reading for the third time.

A noise pricked both our ears. Footsteps outside. In the blink of an eye, she snatched up a rolled-up newspaper and flanked the door with me. "You didn't lock the door?"

"I never touched the door." I pushed up my sleeves. The steps got closer. We traded a nod.

The doorknob rattled. Hinges creaked. In the doorway stood a stack of packages on legs.

"Eddie!" Rosie breathed out relief.

The wet-nosed newspup smiled around his cargo. "Jeepers, guys. Who else would it be?"

I glanced out to the meager lawn, but the only new feature was his bike. "Are you sure you weren't tailed, kid?"

The kid looked back at his tail. "Sure am, Ace. Always."

I rolled me eyes. "Just get inside, wisepup." The kid's parents worked like dogs, so Rosie and I kept in touch with him. Smart too, if a little yappy,-he'd even helped crack a few cases.

"Let's see. I've got clothes for Rosie, clothes for Ace, rawhide strips for Ace--"

"Come to papa!" I scooped the small box out of Eddie's sleeve-draped paws. "I swear I came here with a whole pack."

"Really, Ace, of all the puppyish things to get hung up on--"

"--squeaky toy for Rosie--"

"Ms. Floppington!" She stuffed it in her mouth before she could restrain herself. Lucky bunny.

"--and I think that's it." The pup fumbled out a list. "How're you two holding up? Boy, I wish I could have an indefinite sleepover."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be." I shrugged, exchanging a smirk with Rosie. "She snores."

"I do not!" She dropped the squeaky toy from mouth to paw, then tilted her head at me. "But he drools in his sleep."

The kid smiled, wagging. "That I can believe."

Rosie shelled out some bones to cover his costs, and then some. "You'd better get home, Eddie. It's getting dark."

"Aww, come on. I won't be in the way."

I crouched down to his level. "Wish you could, kid, but ya got school in the morning anyway." I tousled his fur. "I'll make it up to you when this is over. Deal?"

"Yeah, alright." He straightened his hat, resigned, and sighed out the door.

The pretty collie watched him go, out of sight of the door. "Say hi to your folks for me."

"I will, Rosie!" He waved, trotting backward to his bike.

I closed the door, locking it this time.

Rosie leaned against the wall, eyeing me. "He looks up to you."

"What can I say? I'm taller than him." Straightening up, I adjusted my tie. "Besides, his parents aren't around much. Somedoggy has to keep the kid outta trouble."

"More like get him into it."

"Trouble's an important part of growin' up."

"Still, it's sweet, the way you handled that. I wish I were that good with kids. I always feel like such a robot with Dot."

"Well, you certainly manage to push my buttons."

"Changing the subject?" Her voice hardened, all police business. "Something you're not comfortable discussing? Or are you just taking the opportunity to flirt?"

I opened my muzzle to reply, then let it shut. Experience had yet to teach me not to shove my paw in my mouth, but at least I was taking notes. Since it was quiz time, I just smiled and walked back to the sofa.

~ ~ ~

By our third night, the chief inspector was antsier than an aphid picnic. Back at the station, police dogs sniffed out leads, but I got the impression the trail was colder than a husky's nose. After an hour or two of pacing, she fetched her shoes and slid on her jacket.

Seemed like a here-boy to me, so I set down the out-of-date edition of the Dog City Howler and padded over. "I can hear you scratchin' at the door from over in the kitchen. What's up?"

"I'm going, Ace. I can't just stay penned up here, waiting for someone to put me down."

I grabbed my coat, ready to follow her. "Rosie, use your head: are you really safer out there? Or are ya just antsy because, for once, you can't do anything?"

She froze, paw on the door. "Doggone it, Ace. When did you become the reasonable one?"

"Since I realized it'd be the only way to keep you safe." I risked placing a paw on her arm. "I care about ya, Rosie. I-I don't know what I'd do if ya got hurt."

She patted my hand. "You're a good dog, Ace. A good, good dog."

I rubbed her arm. "Ah, I'm alright."

She turned, then pulled me into her embrace. Trench coat dropping from my paw, I stood there like a dope for a second, then returned the favor. Her fur ran through my paws as she rested her muzzle against mine. "I seem to end up in your arms when I'm vulnerable."

"Yeah?" I brushed my nose against hers. "Why'd ya think that is?"

"Why don't you tell me, detective?"

I took her by the shoulders, looking into those deep green eyes. "Because, even though we might raise each other's hackles now and then, you know I'd risk it all to help you."

"You're sweet." She licked my cheek.

Her smile shone in the light of a dusty bulb. Our noses drew close, bumping with magnetic attraction. Her soft lips met mine. I wagged, kissing back. My paws wandered her back as I craved, breathless, to feel every inch of her.

The kiss broke, leaving us panting in each other's faces. Chalk it up to my breed-standard cynicism, but I expected her to pull away. Always seemed crazy a classy dame like Rosie would flirt with a tough like me.

Rosie smiled, wagging.

Those emerald eyes enchanted me, cracking the brick and mortar I keep around my ticker. She kissed me again, and we got to serious smooching. Paws, tails, and tongues went everywhere. My heart raced like a galloping greyhound. Her body pressed to mine, calling to mind several features that merited closer investigation. My fingertips traced her clothes, exploring her for the first time, stirring the fur beneath. For all the times this moment had run through my mind, the real thing still left me panting. I leaned her against the door, resisting the urge to get frisky with her leg. I am some semblance of a gentledog, after all.

She broke off the kissing, her paws scratching my scruff. With a soft touch of her forehead to mine, she whispered: "Do you think this is a good idea?"

My paws rested on the curve of her hips. "I have a hunch."

Her lips met mine, soft as the swish of a wag. "I trust you."

We kissed until my legs started to get tired. I backed off, causing my darling collie to glance a question my way.

I reassured her by cradling her muzzle in my paw.

She rubbed against it. "You make a good case for a girl staying right here."

I took her paw. "C'mon." As I led her to the sofa, my heart's beating like a young pup's tail. Come to think of it, my tail was beating like that too. So was hers.

We hopped onto the couch, diving into each other's clothes. I started unbuttoning her trench coat. Her delicate paws swept over my shoulders, slipping my suspenders down.

She wriggled out of the coat, moaning as I kissed her neck.

"Oh Ace..." She scratched under my chin. "Behave yourself."

"I'll do anything to keep you from kicking me off the sofa." I let her pull me by the collar on top of her.

"Anything, huh?" A grin flashed on her mischievous muzzle. "Unclip your suspenders." She snapped one against my chest. "They're jabbing me in the stomach."

I didn't keep the lady waiting. The suspenders hit the carpet. "If we keep going like this, I can't promise that'll be the only thing poking you."

"You packing heat, Shamus?" Her thigh rose, rubbing against my growing arousal.

I whined, reconsidering my previous stance on humping her leg. "In a manner of speaking."

The collie giggled at my helpless little thrusts, paws caressing my pecs. One by one, she undid the buttons of my shirt. I shed it like a winter coat, followed by my tank top, her claws tracing through my naked fur.

I decided the time had come for some payback, grinding a thigh between hers. The chief inspector pressed back against me, heat sliding up my leg. Her eyes closed, muzzle open in a pleasured pant.

Speaking of pants, I sat up and made an emergency crotch adjustment. Took some doing, but I managed to get my case notes ordered in their sheaf.

The sound of her shoes hitting the carpet brought me back to reality. Before me lay a collie, blouse ruffled, hair tousled, and the most beautiful dog ever to live. Sculpted legs spread, shy ears folded down, eager tail wagging. The kind of sight that'd make a grown dog beg.

I got on all fours, humping my nice hard bone against her. Dry humping, granted, but I leaked like a dilapidated fire hydrant. Years of pent-up desire will do that to a dog. My knot ground against her, thin fabric the only thing separating me from the dog of my dreams.

Her paws gripped my back fur, leveraging her hips up into mine. "Oh dog... Ace... Oh..."

At the apex of each hump, she gave a little yip, regular as a squeaky toy.

Then her paw settled on my shoulder. "Ace... I need you to stop."

I whined to a halt. My eyes closed, my voice tight. "Rosie, you of all dogs know I'm not too proud to beg."

That paw moved to cup my cheek-ruff. "We need to talk about this."

I sighed, backing up. "My boxers are patterned with more than just hydrants at the moment, but sure."

"I don't mean to be a dogtease, but...I've never done this before. I want to be sure I'm not just shacking up because I'm shackhappy."

"I really don't think you're the type to-- Wait, you've never done this?"

Her eyes narrowed, the insides of her ears flushing red. "I'm a busy dog!"

"Well, yeah, but I just figured a beautiful gal like you..."

"Once bitten, twice shy, Ace. Besides, not everydoggy's a stud detective."

"Reports of my stud service have been greatly exaggerated."

"Be that as it may, Ace--"

"Seriously, Rosie. Hard-nosed private eyes never get the girl."

Her pretty muzzle opened with a witty barb, then shut again. Those green eyes took in my face, as if searching a scene for clues. "Never?"

"Never."

"Oh."

Having exhausted our supply of awkward topics for the moment, we simply lay there. Her paws drew me close, exposing me to the subtle scent of her perfume. I stroked her hair, my prior passion deflating with my ego. A gentle kiss against my ear helped the latter, at least. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek in return.

Rosie squirmed under me. "This couch isn't very comfy. I need a bed."

"Yeah, I guess I should let you get to that." I rolled off her, getting back to my feet.

She took my paw, letting me help her up. "Who said I needed to go there alone?"

"But..."

"Come on, Ace." A shrug in the right direction. "The heating in this place is terrible."

"And one good frost would spell the end for my highly cultivated collie flower." I worked what little confidence I could muster into that smile.

Her paws, so soft and strong, traced up my arms, feeling my shoulders. "I'm not green enough to be broccoli?"

"Mmmm..." I smiled into a quick kiss. "You didn't get to be chief of police by being green."

With a continuous scratch under the chin, Rosie walked me down the hall to her room. "I don't know, Ace. Any greener and I'd be a setter."

"You're already game, set, and match." I winked, breaking out the best of my private-eye charm.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." The collie smirked back as she closed the door. "Except in here while I'm changing."

I harrumphed, leaning against the doorframe. Vet visits, fetch, hairballs: I tried thinking of anything except what was going on behind me. It didn't work. Especially when I heard--

"Ace, take your pants off."

"What?!" I was a hairsbreadth from jumping out of my fur.

She stood there in a spare shirt and panties. The soft beige of her fur glowed in the backlight. She cocked her head to one side, floppy ears dangling as she gave me a once-over. "Unless you've dug up a nightgown, I figured you'd be sleeping in your boxers."

I grappled with my own tongue, which had lolled halfway to the floor. Managing not to trip over it, I chuckled. "How do you know I'm wearing any?"

She bumped my nose, then gave it a little lick. "Because you told me."

"Uhhhh, right now might not be the best time."

Her arms crossed under her breasts. "Drop 'em, Shamus."

Never one to disobey police orders, I unbuttoned my fly and let gravity do its work, then kicked off my shoes and socks. Try as it might, my swishing tail couldn't conceal my most pressing issue.

She glanced at the pup tent I'd pitched in my shorts. "Don't get any funny ideas or you'll be sleeping at the foot of the bed."

"Me? Funny ideas? You must be thinking of some other dog."

Smiling, my Irish beauty leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips, her fingers lingering over my scruff, her eyes lingering on mine. "Never."

Warmth rushed under my fur. I knew Rosie was serious about not fooling around that night, but for a girl who didn't want to make the beast with eight paws, she sure wasn't stingy with the flirting.

She backed up and sailed to the bedside. Her nipples poked the fabric, providing two easy, dangerous places for my gaze to anchor. Lifting the covers, she slipped between the sheets.

"Come on, tough guy." The collie gave me a wavering smile, though her voice came rock-steady. "I don't think even the tent you've pitched will keep you warm in this cold."

She was right: I was shaking like a chilled chihuahua, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. I fumbled my way into bed and lay with my back to her. The cool of the bedcovers cut through my fur like a cheap squeaky toy. Not that I was upset, this being the closest I'd gotten to Rosie in... well... ever. Who could ever figure out women anyway? Now there was a case better PI's than I had failed to crack.

A warm touch at my shoulder, careful, as if asking for permission. Having been wrung out for witty retorts for the evening, I pondered this wayward paw a moment before giving it a soft lick.

She inched closer until her paws explored the fur of my chest once more. Soft breasts pressed against my back. Her muzzle settled along my neck as if sculpted to fit. After a few silent seconds, her contented whisper stirred my fur. "You're warmer without your trench coat."

My tail drummed against her thighs. "You really think I could be cold to you?"

"No." She kissed the back of my ear. "Goodnight, Ace."

"Night, Rose." Amid the sounds of the city and Rosie's gentle breath, sleep crept over me. As I fell into the depths of the night in her arms, my mind drew me back to the events of several months ago...

~ ~ ~

Rosie had been shivering. Between the two of us, we'd sent the other strays yipping for their mamas, but no amount of pluck and posturing could chase off the cold. The starless night soaked into DC's underbelly, permeating denizens and dark alleys alike.

With Mayor Kickbark a lost dog, mafia top dog Bugsy Vile had wasted no time taking control of the city. The collie investigator and I soon found ourselves running for our lives, stripped of our detective, driving, dramatic, and dog licenses.

I settled a paw on her hip. She tensed, strung tighter than a tweaking terrier. I let my hand linger there, steady as the moonless night.

Then, as if on command, she rolled over.

For a moment, I thought the dame was going to sock me for my trouble. Instead, she scooched closer, her body shivering against mine.

Try as I might to come up with a wry comment, feeling her tremble for the first time shook me by the short hairs. Instead, I unbuttoned my trench coat and tucked her in against me. Without my permission, my arms made themselves at home, wrapping around the police detective and rubbing warmth back into her. The cardboard under me felt about as hard as the concrete beneath it, but I found myself not minding too much.

Her sleek muzzle pressed against my chest. In a voice that seemed too soft for her, she whispered: "I'm scared, Ace."

Now there was something I didn't expect to hear. Rosie was tough as nails and rattled about as easy as a bank vault. I squeezed her closer. Her arms found their way around me, and, even as the wind battered our cardboard shelter, I felt safer than I had in years. I smoothed a paw down her hair as my muzzle came to rest on her floppy ear. "Every dog's a scaredy-cat. It's the canine condition. The trick is never to let it take ya by the leash, and that's one you've known since obedience school."

"What if we never find the mayor?" Her voice had regained some of its usual iron, but none of its usual irony. "What if we have to live as strays, hounded for the rest of our lives?"

I understood; a mutt like me didn't have far to fall on the social ladder, but Rosie had spent her life putting paw over paw to get to the top. And now, she'd gone from chief of police to pariah dog in the space of a single night.

"I got your back, babe." My paws traveled over her shoulders, caressing her lean, powerful form. "And I ain't going anywhere."

Time passed, with only the howl of the wind to mark it for us. The sinister side of town wasn't known for its amazing smells, but the collie's scent danced across my nose and straight to my soul.

"Thanks, Ace." Her paws slipped along the back of my shirt, making my tail brush back and forth against the cardboard wall.

We buried our noses in each other's pelts and fell into a restless sleep.

~ ~ ~

I woke to Rosie's scent, with the dog herself in my arms.

Safe and in the present.

A thick, soft blanket draped over us and the old bed. Morning light shimmered across her glossy fur, auburn fiery as amber, white soft as a cloud. Her chest rose and fell against mine in an easy rhythm. My digits buried in her long fur, I was helpless to resist, leaning in and delivering a lick to her brow.

Emerald eyes flickered open as she licked me on the nose. "Morning, Shamus."

A smile crept over my muzzle, covering any lingering anxiety I'd carried over from doggy dreamland.

Rosie was one well-read pooch, and I was an open book. "Penny for your thoughts, detective."

"That's below even my usual rates."

"Yeah, but I'm a regular customer." Her feet brushed along mine. "You always run in your sleep?"

"Not unless someone's chasing." I squeezed her. "Holding you like this had me dreamin' of our brief stint as strays."

"Not a walk in the park."

"Wasn't all bad. There was that moment as they were leading us to the electric doggy bed..."

"That was just a kiss, Shamus." Her smile held a tremble of tension at the memory. "The last walkie'll make a girl do crazy things."

"You always have been my kind of crazy."

"Feel like going crazy with me?"

I nodded. "I gotta admit, going from 'crazy about' to 'crazy with' was a bigger leap than I expected." I bumped noses with her.

Her lips met mine. Our tails beat under the covers. The kiss ended, though, and her gaze flicked down. "Speaking of bigger..." She jostled my morning dogwood with her bare knee.

"Cut me a little slack, would ya? It's not every morning I wake up with the prettiest gal in Dog City."

"Sweet talk always was your strong suit." A final smooch as she slipped out of bed. "Just for that, I'm going to let you pick up the trail of your slacks while I go comb my fur."

She strode out of the room, tail swaying. Gotta admit, I hated to see her go, but loved to watch her leave.

I also wondered where my hat had ended up.

---

After Slate pointed me in the direction of this series from my childhood, I felt it needed a little more attention within the fandom. A little different in tone from my usual fanfiction, but I think it matches that of the original show nicely.

Edits: Slate, Darkdragon452, Vendetta, SillyNeko345, TheFunkyOne, Shiv-kun

NOTE: The original show has at least this many puns. Not even kidding. Check it out on YouTube.

Let me know what you think! :D

-Tempo