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Paw and Order The Life and Times of Leonard Keaton Equus21

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Author's Note: What's interesting is that before I had a fursona, I wrote furry stories. It wasn't until I went to a furry con (Anthro New England) that I fully decided to dive right into the fandom-and get myself a fursona. I never really had an official furry character-but after a lot of thought, I came up with Leonard-a black lab. I'm so glad that I finally have this character, and I hope that you all enjoy his story-instead of a simple 'reference sheet' like most furries have-I wrote a bio...and I'm sure Leonard will appear in more stories as well. Enjoy!

Everything and anything you'd ever want to know about Leonard Keaton-will be in these pages, while most furry stories are romance, high school drama and maybe even a bit of innuendo-I assure you-Leonard's adventures, are not anything like that. Go to any furry convention, and they'll most likely greet you with warm hugs, smiles and belly rubs.

This black lab will not be one of those, he'll meet you with a rather stern gaze, and he will speak to you-but has little time for jokes and silliness, whether he's on the job or not. He will hug you if you need comfort, he'll speak to you about any life issues, on most accounts-most would say Leonard is non caring and maybe even unable to show emotion-but this is far from it. He is very monotone, his voice is gruff, British and he can sound extremely stern when he has to. So, we have Leonard-a furry who prefers hand / paw shakes from hugs, and yet-seems open enough to discuss your life issues and will offer hugs, if he feels it is acceptable, we'll delve into his past a tad bit, go to his daily routine-and slowly we'll reveal why he is the way he is, this story is not for the faint of heart, but I think if you're a furry or someone who just likes a hopefully thrilling narrative reading this, you may find Leonard's story interesting and complex, he has a lot to tell us...

PART 1: ALLEYWAY

Leonard C. Keaton (the 'C' stands for nothing more than just the letter-one initial) was born in Britain, in human years he is about 44 years of age now, born on July 28.

He lives in Boston, Massachusetts and is currently an FBI agent-working to help save furries and humans alike. How did this black lab enter into the world of helping others?

Well, in High School, when the lab was about seventeen perhaps, Leonard was part of a group.

A group of furries about his same age, one a snow leopard and one a crow-these two students were named Chuck and Teble. Chuck was buff, his spots very noticeable, very popular with female furries-slept around a bit and even drank a bit. Teble was a crow, a slightly overweight crow who never stopped eating, and probably wouldn't if his life depended on it.

So, the lab, the leopard and the crow would sneak out on school nights and walk about a lot, talking amongst each other, swearing and maybe even break a sign or two if they were sure no one would catch them. Sometimes, they'd hide in abandoned buildings to try and not have to go to school the next day, and actually, Leonard never did skip a school day. He was always back home in time for the bus, for him an education was quite important-but to Teble and Chuck, it meant nothing-they both teased Leonard constantly for his liking of an education, which would be met by a 'middle finger'.

He had hung out with these two for quite sometime, he did enjoy the banter and was happy that on school nights, he had something to look forward too.

However, one night-everything turned horrible, and this was the point where helping others was not only something that Leonard got pride out of doing-but also felt it was his duty, and his morals haven't changed since this night.

The area Leonard currently lived in was a suburban area in Worcester, very low life type situation. His friends hadn't called him to go out that night, but the eighteen year old lab lied down, staring at the ceiling and just unable to get comfortable. So, he tosses off his blankets and threw on some grey skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, laced up his sneakers and took a walk.

A few cars zoomed down the street, the lab kept his paws in his pockets, looking at his feet and listening to the sounds of the night. He thought about lighting a cigarette, but didn't. He turned to one side; saw a few of the small restaurants he and his friends had gone too, run down buildings, only greasy fatty foods served. The air was cool, but it was still too warm for a jacket, a spring evening.

He walked further and further down the sidewalk; his tail swaying contently-he was starting to go into his own little world, happy that he had decided to take a walk.

Suddenly, the buildings around him became more and more abandoned, no furries in sight-just broken windows, broken down brick buildings and the smell of garbage started filling the lab's nostrils, he got off of the path of the sidewalk and started heading for an abandoned alley on a whim, he had brought a flashlight with him and he wasn't too afraid of the dark anyway. He cocks his head-swearing he heard the sound of someone crying... The black lab's ears twitch a tiny bit, he then proceeds to go down the dark alleyway. He shines his flashlight all about, hearing the crying getting closer and closer. This certainly was the first time Leonard had dealt with anything like this, he had seen others cry-but was able to always avoid the situation. Guilt would go through him if he didn't investigate further-he steps softly, listening to the crunch of tiny stones beneath his sneakers. A ping of nervousness goes through the dog-he clutches his flashlight a bit tighter and takes slow deep breaths, helping himself stay calm. A new scent hits his nose, the scent of blood-he then looks down and sees a fellow furry, a beagle drenched in blood-oozing out of his stomach. His breathing labored, the lab kneels down next to him, the beagle swiftly grabs his paw, who hurt him? Leonard felt queasy-he then got another whiff of something quite disconcerting...the scent of his friend, Chuck-the snow leopard. The beagle dying in front of him, had no time to speak-he did indeed die within a few moments.

The black lab's head hovers above the toilet as he vomits twice; he knew the image of the poor dog dying wouldn't leave his brain. Leonard quickly strips and takes a long and hot shower-why would a scent of Chuck be in the canine's blood?

Over the next few days, Leonard did all he could-told the police what he saw, talked the entire scene over with a psychologist-but he never did catch up with Chuck, and neither did police.

PART 2: DETECTIVE KEATON

Leonard Keaton graduated collage, got a degree in Criminal Justice, and really found that solving crimes was a major interest, all through the evening that's all he read. Real accounts of either furries or humans, saving lives by either gathering enough evidence to put someone away-or physically going after the villain themselves. The death of that beagle did linger with him-it was still an unsolved crime...it had become a cold case-and even he said himself:

"Cold cases are often the worst for families, there's no closure, and the 'danger' is still out there as far as this poor beagle goes. It is my life's duty to be sure that dangers do not infiltrate any furry / human life-we all have the right to pursue our wishes, and the fact that this type of violence exists, is a disgrace to all of our moral compasses."

Actually, Leonard had often spoken of the safety of both furries and humans-and they're two cases we should cover, because Leonard over the years of being with the FBI-would have a lot of cases. Some lengthy, some short-this particular case went from being personal, to being official, it's one of those cases that helped form Leonard into the dog he is today. It was a hotel lobby. The floor marble, from the ceiling, chandeliers hung. Furries of all different types in all different types of clothing walked about, chatting amongst each other, having drinks and they all seemed happy. Leonard went to the bar area of the lobby, he needed to relax a bit. As of right now, all the lab was doing was office work-not getting up often and not speaking to many of his co-workers, he had yet to actually visit a crime scene, which in a way he liked because then he knew no one was getting hurt around his town.

Leonard wore his brown leather jacket, a white dress shirt, black tie, blue jeans and black dress shoes. Technically-he was supposed to wear a suit, but his boss never scolded him from wearing what he wanted to, it was something that was never mentioned.

Like most detectives, he had his badge and his gun, but he was not here on some case-he was here in the evening. His tail wags contently behind him as he sits on a chair, about a foot away from the bar itself. The black lab rests his arms on the long table, once his drink is ordered-a few furries try making conversation and hugging him, but he's not in the mood for any of it. Actually, he never really did like overly happy conversations-he'd talk to anyone about problems or questions, but as far as polite small talk, he kept it all to a minimum-one worded to be exact. He unzips his leather jacket and loosens his tie a bit.

As he sits, sipping his rum and coke-a dark purple female panther approaches him. She wears a sparkling red dress that went up to her knees-her eyes bright yellow, her pupils black and slanted, right down the middle of her iris. She smiles at him, not too shy-very confident in fact. Her ears twitch a bit, she looks Leonard over-his slightly toned arms and his serious expression, looking at nothing particular, but thinking about a lot. She taps him on the shoulder. "So, you're a detective?" The dog cocks his head quickly to one side and speaks in a calm tone, he noticed part of his badge hung out of his pants pocket, he quickly tucks it back in and clears his throat softly. "Yes, may I help you?" As he speaks in that slightly gravelly British accent, her heart leaps a bit. "No, I'm fine-what's your name? I love a furry in uniform..." He glances at her a bit, a bit taken a back by her non shy why of flirtation, he then takes a sip of his drink-and while he was in no mood for someone teasing with him, he couldn't help but feel a ping of flattery. "Leonard Keaton, pleasure to meet you." His tone was one of abruptness, trying to push her away in a polite way-he grabs his jacket and heads outside to his car, a dark blue, Subaru Impreza outback to be exact...

About an hour later, the black lab returns to his home, a two floor home in a suburban area of Massachusetts. All of the floors in his home are hardwood, his living room has a couch which faces a television set, beside the TV is a library of books-passed the couch is a pantry-like area, complete with a dining room table. Not much is upstairs but an extra bedroom and the washer and dryer.

While the black lab lives alone, he does plenty on his off time-which he hoped to do soon if work wasn't piled up. Normally he'd go to the bookstore, maybe do some writing-or bring tons of office work home if he didn't feel like getting out of his bathrobe and wanted to stay in, but still be productive on a Saturday.

Leonard lied on his stomach; his arm hanging slightly off the edge of the couch-he was in the same clothes he was in when he had met that purple panther. Suddenly, his cell phone rang-waking him up quickly, he groaned tiredly and quickly answered. His eyes blinded by the morning light beaming through his house. "Yes?" The voice on the other end sounded chipper, piercing the dog's still groggy brain. He stood up and really wanted the conversation to be over before it had started; he knew it was the panther's voice. "Hey Leonard! It's Beth Morris! Tried texting you a few times-how are you?" The dog rubs his eyes and puts some coffee on in the kitchen, his voice deeper than usual, but as he spoke-it returned back to as it is normally. "Tired-going to work soon..." "Great Lenny! Well, I was wondering if we could get together this evening? Maybe for drinks?" He sits at the kitchen table, pulls the phone away and takes a deep breath, trying to be polite. "Ummm....I guess.." "GREAT! I'll text you a place! Bye!"

He threw his clothes from last night in the wash-changed and drove off to work. All he had really done that day is look over photos of unsolved crimes around the town, and deep down he knew he was helping the process-but he couldn't help but feel a tad bit bored...

For the first time in a long while, Leonard wore a full suit and a nice red tie. Beth was dressed in a black casual dress, they both drank red wine and conversed about each others lives...while another furry in the restaurant kept eyeing them, when the meal had finished-Beth went to the nearby restroom, as the black lab waited for the check, a white wolf in a grey suit approached Leonard. "Excuse me sir, can I talk to you in private?" His voiced, filled with urgency-the dog stood up curiously, knowing that if this guy was going to cause problems-he could easily take him on-Leonard scanned for various weapons and an exit...

The wolf brought Leonard to a dark corner of the restaurant and looked around, as if someone could be listening; Leonard was getting slightly nervous about this guy. "Could you just explain to me why you dragged me here?" The wolf nods and looks at the canine in the eye. "Sir, that lady you're with...yo-you can't date her..." The dog scoffs as the wolf is now right in his face. "I think you have me confused with someone else, please step back..." The wolf does so. "Dude, I'm serious-she's a crazy bitch!" With a nervous look in his eye, he then frantically takes his suit jacket off, Leonard only got more and more confused. He rolls up one sleeve to his dress shirt, a layer of fur was missing from his forearm-burned off to be exact. "She did THAT to me!" The dog narrows his eyes at the wolf. "Oh really? Do you have any proof this happened? Because all I know about Beth is that she's slightly annoying, but seems lonely. Is it a crime to be polite?" Suddenly, the wolf looks over at the female restroom and sees the panther come out, he frantically walks out. The dog then turns around and heads for Beth...

Leonard has felt he had done something good, Beth did indeed seem lonely, and the conversations they had over dinner were good natured, and she certainly had been eyeing him the entire time-but the dog wouldn't let their relationship go that far, as far as he was concerned-they were two furries who happened to go out to dinner together and were becoming friends, nothing more and nothing less.

Lunch break had come around at the office, Leonard sat alone on his office chair and munched on a tuna sandwich, he had already done a lot of the work he needed-so he decided to dig into the large filing cabinet and on some sort of gut instinct, looked for the name Beth Morris-since everyone had a file and finger print identification anyway, why not look into her?

Leonard found out where she was born, what kind of home she lived in-but the strange thing was, she filed under "Missing". Leonard twirled in his chair and looked her name up on his laptop-which was something he maybe should have done before he had went to see her. News articles came up, she had been indeed reported missing-but her most recent photo...her fur was a different color. Did she dye her fur? Does she want others to think she is indeed missing? Is she hiding something? Leonard's mind often went to these kinds of things, perhaps he really did need to do some digging. When he looked her name up online-nothing was there but a social media page, similar to Facebook. No news reports, no nothing. Still, he couldn't get over the fact that apparently-Beth had indeed disguised herself for some reason, he then decided to leave work early and go to the restaurant where he had met that white wolf...he quickly grabbed his jacket, grabbed his work bag, badge and gun, turned off the lights and locked his door...

The white wolf was at the bar-Leonard ordered a rum punch and left his jacket on, but unzipped. "Detective-you're making a grave mistake....she...she said I did all this stuff, hit her and treated her like she was trash. I-I swear sir, she's manipulative!" Leonard clears his throat. "How long ago did all of this happen?" The lab grabs a pen and notepad and looks at the worried wolf in the eye. "About a month ago, but I was afraid to report anything-after I knew how nuts she was, I was afraid to go to the police..when I saw you with her, I nearly panicked-I couldn't let who she was go unnoticed...plus, I have a vital piece of information...a video that proves everything." He trembled a bit and sighed, Leonard puts his paw on the wolf's shoulder, his tone kind, but monotone. "Come on down to the station and file a report..." The wolf felt very protected by Leonard, an effect that a lot of people went through after learning how surprisingly soft spoken the dog was.

He had kept photos of him with Beth-but Leonard was mostly interested in the supposed video he had gotten. The video was on the wolf's cellphone. The video itself was not too good, being that he had tried to hide the camera from the panther, but she started speaking in a threatening tone, the wolf's breathing could be heard getting more and more rapid. "If you DARE ignore me again, you'll be in a lot of shit!" The shaky cell phone footage then turns to her, Beth begins to slam her head into a nearby wall, her forehead bleeds, she then begins crying uncontrollably. "Others will think YOU did this! YOU SICKO! You will not move from your house, you will stay here where I KNOW where you are! DO NOT CROSS ME!"

The footage ends abruptly, Leonard stares into his office computer long after it is over..Leonard rubs his eyes slowly. If he calls an entire squad over right away, she'd hear sirens, she'd run off-panthers had speed and the ability to hide, they had been known to get away from officers if they're too obvious. He couldn't let her get away with evilness again; she'd change her look and move. The lab would have to think on his feet...plus, he did have a sort of morbid curiosity as to what her home looked like.

That night, Beth sits on the couch-reading a book and having a glass of wine, she hears a knock at her door, and she is shocked to see Leonard standing at the door way, dressed in a grey v-neck t-shirt and blue skinny jeans with sneakers, the evening was warm-so he didn't wear his jacket, she looked at his slightly toned chest and arms. Beth wore a pink bathrobe with blue pajamas underneath.

She lived in a yellow McMansion, her living room filled with glass cabinets of trinkets throughout her life, a large grandfather clock stands in one corner-everything looked overpriced-she lets him in and has him sit on the red velvet couch. Her thin, purple tail sways back and fourth, nearly touching his leg. "I'm glad you're here, Leonard..." She speaks with a gleam in her eye. "Good..." She loved his gruff, British accent-somehow she thought it seemed calming and authoritative. "Want any wine?" Leonard shakes his head and begins to speak, his voice turned extremely soft-almost sexual. "Please stand up..." She slowly stands and smiles, taking her bathrobe off. The black lab slowly places his paws on her breasts-before the panther could blink, Leonard swiftly grabs her robe and throws her to the ground, and she falls hard on her stomach, she grunts loudly. With little effort, he reaches into his back pocket and swiftly cuffs her wrists. "Bethany Morris, you are under arrest-anything you say can and will be used in a court of-" She had managed to squirm onto her back and bite the dog on the paw, a sharp pain shot through him, a bit of blood poured onto the floor-he lets out a quick bark as she then snaps out of the cuffs, she dashes into the kitchen to grab a large, serrated knife. As Leonard stands, she charges at him with the knife, she hisses a tiny bit-her ears pinned back, her breathing heavy, she screamed some profanity into his face. From his sneaker, he pulled out a black, mini handgun-and fired a shot into her shoulder, after a deafening bang, she collapsed to the floor and groans. He lies on the floor tiredly-his left paw throbbed in pain. He slowly stood up and looked at Beth-blood poured out of her shoulder, he was lucky she did not die-he really didn't want to kill her. He then pulls out his cellphone and calls for medics and his fellow officers...

Beth had gotten twenty some odd years to life in prison, the evening of her arrest, which was only about thirty minutes after the struggle-Leonard had never felt so tired in his life, he had to get three stitches on his paw, he spoke nearly not a word at the hospital, not because he was upset-but because the lab didn't talk much anyway. The lab slowly walks into his house and flops on the couch, falling asleep instantly.

The "Beth Case" is probably what caused Leonard to be single, not saying he couldn't get a girlfriend; I think female furries liked him-especially at the gym. Woman glanced at him, and he found it all flattering-but he knew nothing could or should come of it.

He remained single, his line of work didn't allow him to have many people in his life-or so he thought. I think you've heard enough from me, the nameless narrator, I think I should turn you over to Leonard himself-because our next section is not just another case-it's something that altered his life forever. Something he never expected to happen, but it did. So reader, I turn you, to a dog who's story has only half been told.

PART 3: "I LIKE TO TAKE EVENING WALKS...."

I like to take evening walks....about twice a week. I like to clear my head, I like to forget everything I'm working on-and just focus on the night. There's something about the night I enjoy-everyone being asleep, few cars on the road in the area I live in anyway.

First of all, I'll lie awake, unable to get my mind off of a case or sometimes, images of the murdered bodies come floating through my psyche-I toss and turn and shut my eyes-when that doesn't work, I quickly get up, put on my running clothes (a black tank top and dark blue adidas pants, and a black overhead sweatshirt if the night is cold.) I take my badge and a pocket knife with me...

I lock the door and softly walk along a long and straight sidewalk, past my home and past a lot of the suburban area I live in. I glance over at a few of the neighbors houses, look into the sky; I spend a lot of time looking down at my feet though. About once a month on these walks, I'll smoke a cigarette, just for something to do.

I think the late night walks started when I was bothered by something, especially my ex-girlfriend, Maxie. It was after the murdering, obsessive girlfriend. I was about 40, she was about 35. A white wolf, and at first meeting, I thought I read her right-I thought while she was naive, but kind hearted. At the time, I was new to my job at a detective-so perhaps the break up was due to two things, one me being overly stressed and two-her and I just didn't click. For a while, it was fine-but after two months...I realized this wasn't going to work. She was extremely needy, to the point of being obnoxious. I found out she could do nothing on her own, I never had a moment to myself and she could never do anything correctly. For a few months, I put up with it-and it wouldn't have been so hard, but on top of not being able to do anything, she was unappreciative. I'd do everything for her, answer her calls when I could, but rarely did I get a thank you. I mostly got more whining about my work and how I should be around more often-even though I answered 80% of her frigging calls. So, it was after dealing with Maxie all day I decided I needed to just calm down and take a walk, it helped a lot.

Anyway, to get off of my whiny wolf friend, one day I lost it and said something like "why don't you learn some living skills you whiny bitch?" She left after that as you'd imagine.

So, this 'case' the narrator told you of-will be my next tale. I didn't want to go on a walk the evening it happened, I decided to go to a hotel and see what was happening-I wasn't looking for romance, or friends, I needed a change of pace. It was after a long day at work-I am happy with my work as a detective, but it does drain on me-so this hotel I hoped would be a good way to relax and get away from walking alone.

Before heading to the hotel, I combed my black fur on top of my head a bit in front of the bathroom mirror of my one floor home; I decided to leave on my white dress shirt and my loose black tie from work, threw my FBI badge in the back pocket of my blue jeans, put on my brown leather jacket and some black dress shoes and headed to my car.

I have two vehicles, my Subaru and my patrol car in the garage; obviously I took the Subaru for this occasion, which felt strange being that I was so used to opening the garage and such.

Once I arrived at the hotel, I realized some art convention was going on. Drawings surrounded the front lobby; mostly 'nerdy furries' were here-maybe in there twenties. A few hundred of them were around at least, gazing at new age art, and some antique art. I listened to the light rock music playing in the background (the song was by Journey and was called "Separate Ways") I liked it here, I love individuals who have those types of unique talents, those who don't quite fit in, the 'round pegs in the square holes' as one computer programmer once said. The lobby was filled with furries, most dressed quite eccentrically, mostly wolves and panthers.

The only thing I didn't like was being greeted with hugs. In 'furry society' it is customary, to go up to a new comer and hug them and pat them-and really, I don't see why they can't just say 'hello'...but this is how it is in our world, so I hug them and nod. I decided to look at some of the framed art on the walls after paying at the front desk to look at the exhibit; I do that for about an hour.

Once the place starts clearing out, I decide to go to the restroom, once at the front door, I am stopped by a female lizard, she seems kind, but her tone is one of worry. "Excuse me, sir? Um-I saw you in line at the entrance, and I couldn't help but notice your badge, um you may want to check out upstairs-room 202. I-I heard....well....something bad..." She now began to tremble, and I held her paw a bit. "Ma'am, what kind of thing?" She sighs a bit and looks at me right in the eye. "Screams..." I could do one of two things, call for back up and get this place cleared out...or, I could do the quicker, but the less safe thing of going up there on my own-I take option two because it's just quicker and if she heard screams...obviously someone is in trouble.

I briskly walk down the hall of the hotel, the carpet is smooth and has mini floral designs, the doors are all clearly marked, and I hit 202 in about ten minutes. Inside the breast pocket of my jacket, I reach for my registered pistol. I hear crying-I knock on the door and she yells-she's no older than fifteen by the sound of her voice. "GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!" I keep my tone calm and collected, but I get a bad feeling at the pit of my stomach. "I'm an FBI agent-my name is detective Leonard Keaton...you're not in trouble, I just want to know what's wrong." I hear movement inside the room; the white heavy door opens a tiny bit. This girl is a black panther; she stands and stares at me, looking quite afraid. I step in calmly, she wears a purple skirt, I approach her-she sounds monotone. "S-sir...there's really nothing wrong...at all." She sits on the large bed in the middle of the room. I sigh and kneel by her; she looks into my brown, puppy dog eyes. I start to get the feeling she finds it comforting that I'm a black lab, and that could be true. I've heard dogs give off a trusting and calming look. "W-well....it's just...my dad...told me I couldn't tell anyone what's going on...b-but if you're a detective, I guess I have to tell you. My dad says that he has to hit me, to show me discipline....a-and I hate it..." she begins crying again, I lightly put my paw on her shoulder. "Can I see what your father looks like?" She nods and slowly takes out her cell phone, on the lock screen is a picture of him, smiling a rather smarmy smile. My tone then shifts from calming, to stern-but not too stern as I don't want to alarm her. "Where is he?" She looks into my face; I can tell she's sincere. "D-down at the lobby...somewhere..." I nod and stand up. "What's your name?" "Elizabeth Hatch..." I then hand her one of my many mini cards, providing my name and number. "Okay Elizabeth, stay here-I'm going to go speak to your father...call me anytime." She then gives me a light hug, one of thankfulness; I figure she's been dealing with her abusive father for a long while now. I give her a light hug back and head out the door...

I go down to the lobby-I then find her father, some light techno music plays at the bar he is at. The bar is filled with drunk furries, I approach him-he sits at a bar stool, not fully drunk-but well on his way. I take off my jacket and roll up the sleeves to my shirt and sit by him. The bartender, who is a muscular gray wolf, looks at me. I order a rum and coke. I turn to the panther, he is taller than me-I'm five feet, he's six. "Are you Mr. Hatch?" I ask him in a slightly cold manner-trying to get him on edge. He takes another swig of beer and looks at me coldly-he is slurring words. "What's it to you, shorty?" I rest my hands on the long table. "Well, I'd like to speak to you about your daughter...she told me quite a bit." He grabs me by my shirt collar and leans in; I smell intense alcohol on his breath. "Listen here fuck head, the way I handle my daughter-is NONE of your business..." I then grab his wrist tightly-showing, nor feeling no fear. "You're assaulting an officer...." The panther then gets up to leave, I swiftly walk up to him and extend my leg, tripping him, I then lunge onto his back-grabbing him by the shoulders, his face planted into the hard floor-he moans in pain as I lean against his head, I whisper into his ear. "If you dare hit your daughter again, you better believe I'll hear about it and have you arrested-in fact it would be my pleasure. Are we singing from the same song sheet?" The panther nods and groans loudly. "YES! YES! I WON'T HIT HER!" All the furries in the bar step away, the bartender is currently calling the nearest police station. I then grab a pair of handcuffs, cuffing both his ankles and throwing away the key...I then finish my drink.

I then decide to take an evening walk along the hotel, looking at the large water fountain, listening to the cars zooming by. I begin to think about my life at home, how once I get home from the office-I'm just so bored. I do drink sometimes, not to excess...but enough that I maybe should drink less. The thing that had stuck in my head the most was helping Elizabeth, how....right it felt. I had never helped a kid her age, I mean I had spoken to high school students when teachers invited me to do talks about drugs and things-but never had I had a real one-to-one conversation with a teen in my older age, and I couldn't help but shed a tear that a lot of kids had awful parents, and that's why children are adopted.

On the drive home, these thoughts still entered my brain, how many kids need help? How many could benefit from being taken to a new home? What's it like being a father? I brushed off that thought immediately; I'd never be a father-not with what I do. I couldn't even handle a girlfriend...

PART 4: So It Happened....

At 44 years of age, I adopted a kid. I had gone to adoption sites, just curious as to what everything would be like-it was no quick decision. I had spoken to tons of others who had adopted kids, and all of it seemed positive. I also had to speak of it to my boss, and he said as long as I was able to get all my desk work done and still do what I did, then he also thought it was positive. I even spoke to a few neighbors about it-the ones I trusted. Bosco, a six foot tall, southern beagle-and I hate to use the word, but 'sweetheart' is how I would describe him, he even said he'd look after my kid if I needed extra hands. Jeffery, a grey bottlenose Australian dolphin-very kind and hyper. Same with Yuna, my other neighbor who is sort of a flake-but she's also very sweet-and I perhaps even would trust her more than Bosco, being that she's the aunt of Lena, a very nice young man she lives with.

I had good neighbors to count on, and as I was looking through pictures of the individuals who needed to be adopted-Christopher caught my eye. Here's his catch, he's a human. Sixteen years of age, his biological family abused him...they were into drugs, and often would lock him in a closet-I sensed so much kindness in his eyes though, and I knew it would be a task to help him. He's half blind and has some other mental quirks. Here's the thing about him, he's the sweetest and most lovable human ever-he gets along with all of his acquaintances so well, he does good in school, even though some furries have said prejudiced things before. His teachers do a good job of monitoring him. Chris uses a cane to help him with finding his way around; he's not completely bind, only partially blind and he's very independent. He's about five feet tall (I'm only eight inches taller than he is.) He has short blonde hair; very nice blue eyes-he also has a great and genuine smile. He enjoys music-he doesn't like slow jazz like me though. Chris enjoys rock, fifties rock actually. Buddy Holly is his favorite singer; he knows every lyric of anything that guy has written, he normally doesn't sing out loud though. You know, instead of just saying random things he likes-I'll go through his daily routine on a school day.

He likes me to help him up, and the first few days of having him, I had admittedly forgotten to do this. From living alone, to having a son-is a huge change. He is very patient with me though, he is able to lay his own clothes out and come downstairs. He hates eating breakfast-but to me, it's his own fault should he get hungry before lunch. He is seventeen, so I can't force feed him-and I wouldn't even if he were younger. Chris normally speaks to me before he heads off to the bus stop-which is only a few feet from our house. He talks to me about his worries, how he hopes his day will go-and some of his comments do make me smile.

Once he gets home, either I'm there or Bosco or Jeffery or Yuna waits for him. Bosco has been a life saver; since I'm normally busy solving murders-he's always there when we need him. I offered to pay him, but he didn't want money. Chris and Bosco get along very well, the beagle is so much taller than my son is-so Chris will often climb on him and poke him, Chris has an extremely playful and childish side, more on that in a bit. Bosco will make Chris a snack, after; he takes a nap on the couch, and then may watch TV.

When Jeffery comes, the two normally go out and see sites-Chris said the he likes Jeff's rainbow convertible and his accent. Jeff is much more talkative than Bosco, so I think sometimes he and Chris know more about each other.

Once I come home-we sometimes go out to eat, go to the mall or just speak our honest feelings about the day. I'd say 70% of the time; Chris is in a good and happy mood. Remember when I said Chris could be childish?

Actually, let me say-Chris has let me speak about his 'not so proud moments', I asked him and he said I could tell any story of he and I...negative or positive. He wants me to be honest with you, so that's what I'll do.

The hospital is when he gets angry, sitting in the waiting room, he's normally quiet, even when he listens to his music-he gets tense. He does not do well with doctors, he's always afraid they're going to hurt him. So, sometimes check ups are done between groans and even profanity-he never fights, unless they come at him with a needle, and while I feel bad, I sometimes have to raise my voice towards him and that stops him-but I hate doing it, Chris does not deserve to be yelled at-but sometimes it's just the only way he can truly understand what he's doing is wrong. The first time I raised my voice at him, he didn't speak to me for a few hours. He wished to be alone for the remainder of the day, but he gave a sincere apology that night.

Secondly, because of his horrible past, he often gets night terrors, memories come flooding to him and he asks me if he can sleep in the same bed as me, and while I get mildly irritated (he knows this by the way) I let him calm down and sleep where he wishes. Some nights, I'll get up and he'll just be sitting at the kitchen table, looking tense and sad-and he'll tell me the memory that came to him. Being hit, being thrown into a closet, his parents doing meth or anything. Sometimes he'll hug me after, sometimes he'll just sigh and go back to sleep.

I will always say this though; Chris is the best thing that ever happened to me. He is so honest and caring; he'll listen to anyone and even helped a furry with depression by inviting him over and having a sleepover. I now can't imagine my life without him. My best moments with Chris, are when it's just he and I, exchanging stories, anytime we can be ourselves-it's nice. Whether it's a drive, hike, late night conversation if we can't get to sleep-that's when I feel a true connection to him.

PART 5: The Day That Would Live In Infamy...

The morning started off so normally, a light fog covered the entire town, and the day was cool. I put on a grey t-shirt and some dark blue adidas work out pants and sneakers. I didn't have to go to work until the afternoon, so I would have time for a brisk walk. I woke Chris up, he was a bit groggy-but he didn't seem to mind waking up, school was so much a big part of his social life, and he sometimes even enjoyed it. He didn't speak to me too much; he normally didn't in the morning. He was dressed in tan slacks and a black t-shirt. He and I normally didn't hug before he left; he really is set on leaving at such a precise time. I help him out of the house and watch him leave; I sit down at the kitchen table. I can hear the sound of bus, the slight hissing sound as it stops-the moment where the light sound of the engine can be heart-then it drives off, going further and further away. I take this time to meditate for a bit, I do it before work or exercise. I place my cell phone on the table and take a few deep breaths.

My cellphone rings, I nonchalantly pick it up...it's a text from my son. Chris: listen dad... I scratch my head, but do not respond back-what seemed like only ten seconds later, my phone rings-I pick it up, but do as instructed...I listen...confusion covers my brain. I hear the sound of the school bus engine going-the kids are dead silent. Why? Why are they not at school yet-they should be there by now. I am listening so intently, that I lose track of where I am, I lose track of the fact I'm sitting at the kitchen table...I stare into the phone, I then hear the sound of who I think is the bus driver speaking...but I don't hear it all clearly. I place the phone up to my ear, I hear a kid speak up. "Where are w-we going, sir?" A male voice yells back. "SHUT UP! NOW!" I then hear a gun shot go off...I hear screaming and panic. My heart leaps into my throat, I start to get a bit shaky, I can feel my breathing getting heavier. I start to sweat-I know that voice. The voice of the bus driver-is someone from my past. I can't put my paw on it though...who the hell is it? I then hear my son, whisper into the phone; I've never heard him so afraid in my life. He's holding back tears, he's playing it smart-being silent and covering his voice well. "D-dad? I-I don't wanna die" Now, I've had many cases where furries and humans have said things along those lines. While I get sad, hearing my son say 'I don't want to die'...is just almost too terrifying to deal with. Terror is an emotion I've never really felt, caution, sadness, anxiety...yes...but terror? This was a first...I drop my phone, I take a moment to collect my thoughts...I be sure that panic doesn't take over. If I panic, Chris will surly be taken from me...or worse, be killed. I don't grab my jacket; I rush out to the garage to the patrol car.

I barely even wait for the garage to open; I don't even bother with a seatbelt. The lights on the black and white vehicle begin flashing, the siren wails, luckily I have my badge should anyone ask questions-I push the gas peddle, other cars honk at me-a bit of anger grips me, but I stay focused and alert. I grab the handheld radio, which is attached to the dashboard. "Calling all units, put a track on bus eight...repeat track bus eight. I presume the original bus driver is either dead or injured, a male, probably in his early thirties has taken over the vehicle and is now holding the passengers hostage. I suspect the driver's name is Chuck..."

My driving is a bit wonky, I nearly ram into a few cars-I start sweating again, the voice of my son plays over and over again in my head...the image of him being shot in the face by the maniac, his brain matter and blood spraying the floor of the bus...covers my brain. As I speed up more and more, past the school....I see a yellow bus in the distance....it's the bus I'm hunting for. I see the number eight on the back window Butterflies erupt into my stomach as I slam the gas peddle harder...

The large, yellow vehicle accelerates as well; presumably it can see the red and blue lights in the review mirror. Frustration grips me, fear seems to vanish and pure rage consumes me-I need to see Chris. It's mandatory he and the other passengers live. My cop car is now to the right side of the bus and nearly towards the door, the bus attempts to ram into me, and while it sends me slightly off course-but I keep my head with me and maneuver as I need too. My heart and breathing have seemed to stop; I reach into the glove compartment and pull out my extra gun-a silver revolver. I roll down the window to the driver's side, and as I approach the doors to the bus, I fire two shots into the glass of the bus entrance doors-causing the door's window, to shatter. The passengers flinch, the driver is defiantly that same spotted snow leopard I knew so long ago. He wore black jeans and a black sweater, he looked slightly calm, but his movements were quick, he too had a weapon-a semi automatic pistol. I look at him straight in the eye, my car and the bus neck and neck-and I fire a shot into his shoulder, right after he fires in my direction, I am only grazed on my floppy ear. Chuck hisses in pain...he keeps his foot on the gas peddle of the bus. I hold my breath...time seems to move in slow motion...I then aim my gun to the engine of the bus, shooting it-a string of smoke puffs out of the center of the front part of the bus...and it does exactly what I wanted it too-the vehicle ever so slowly, eases to a stop, as it does so-I swiftly move my vehicle to the front of the bus, I slam the breaks-my car comes to a screeching halt.

I take a deep breath as I step out of the cruiser-my gun raised, I walk slowly to the front of the bus, the passengers are quiet and they all look quite pale. We are in the middle of an abandoned road-trees surround us, no other cars are around here. The hiss of the engine continues. I have perhaps four bullets left, the pain starts to throb in my ear, I feel blood dripping from it, as I go on the first step of the bus, I see no sign of Chuck, I yell. "Step out of the vehicle now! I'M A FERDAL AGENT! Drop your weapon and step out slowly!" I am then hit-a fist collides with my face and I'm knocked to the cement. Chuck overpowered me, he had went around the back door of the bus and decided to play a trick. He continues to hit me, left, fist, right fist-my nose begins to hurt-I feel blood pour out of my two nostrils. I cock my head to one side and I find a large rock lying amongst some leaves and dirt and with a horrible snap, I whack him with it. He yelps-I then take a pile of dirt and shove it into his eyes, as he squirms in pain and attempts to stand, I grab the revolver that had fallen and aim it at his gut...as my nose bleeds and I'm sort of half out of it-he decides to bit my wrist-I bark a tad bit and fire a bullet into his stomach...the bang is so loud that the sound echoes amongst the trees.

The snow leopard collapses onto the ground, he groans in pain as blood oozes onto the road....his eyes become more and more dilated. Now, my wrist and ear sting, I'll need stitches for sure. I go to the police cruiser and put the gun away, I go to the radio and speak...I am exhausted and can barely speak, I look up and see a road sign a few feet away from where I stand....once I state where I am, I hear the sound of sirens approaching.

The kids begin to pour out of the bus, Chris for the first time gives me a tight hug-he sobs into my shoulder, not only did he nearly die-but he doesn't like seeing me in pain...he knows I'm hurting. My nose is okay now, but my wrist still bleeds, my shirt is covered in blood. I wrap my arms around him....he doesn't stop crying.

I did go with my son to the ambulance, but I don't really remember it-they had he and I checked over, I got stitches-Chris wasn't too injured, but he was hit-so they needed to check for brain damage, but I thought it was over protective....

I woke up in a hospital bed, my bed right next to Chris. We were both under heavy medication, but those hours of sleep we both got seemed to help a lot. I felt a lot better, and I could tell Christopher did as well. We were both hooked up to heart monitors, the room white, our beds white-certainly looked as bland as a hospital does. I spoke to the doctor, a nice paint horse in a lab coat who knew his stuff about human and furry anatomy, I honestly didn't care that I had to fill in a report of what happened, but being able to look at my son resting filled me with..well...happiness and relief. We were both finally able to just lie down and not think of anything....

We were home the day after, Chris wore pajamas once we were home and I wore jeans and a grey tank top. Honestly, while Chris was clinging to me-which I didn't mind under these circumstances, he wasn't scared, he was calm-but didn't show much emotion. We ate brunch and after, we both sat on the couch. Chris spoke to me, I knew he was being honest-he would never lie to me...plus, if he did-I could tell.

"I was on the bus, and everything w-was fine...but then th-that evil guy stepped out in front of the bus...the bus driver stepped out...wondering if he needed help..." He pauses, I look into my son's face... "Then, he snapped her neck...a-and we were all too scared to move, he then stepped into the bus and aimed a gun at all of us...he punched m-me...and that's why I have a bruise." I could tell Chris was starting to get nervous, so I gently held his hand and told him he didn't need to speak of it anymore.

That evening, as he slept-I myself couldn't sleep. A light rain pattered outside, some thunder rumbled in the distance. The time was eleven thirty, I didn't bother getting undressed for bed-I sat at the kitchen table...looking into space. Thinking of the bus taking, replaying everything-I tried to make it stop, but I couldn't. The more I tried to ignore the image of my son being so upset, the more it all lingered.

Chris gives me happiness, a happiness that before I never would feel otherwise, and I couldn't shake a feeling of depression. He was now at home, resting...why were these feelings coming? Extra nerves?

I then look at Chris as he walks into the kitchen; he looked good-a bit tired though. I keep my tone soft. "Chris...I sometimes think...I'm not a good father...I sometimes think I'm too harsh, or that I'm too over protective...a-and a part of me thinks I failed you...by letting you go on that bus..." My son sits next to me, shocked I was so open-not only so open, but so melancholy. He sits next to me and puts his arm around me. As you know, this would usually annoy me-but I let him be affectionate. "D-dad...you're amazing...you kick ass! You saved me and a-a bunch of students' lives. Stop..okay? You're awesome. I love you very much..." He then rubs my ear lightly-my 'good ear', which he did when he himself was feeling stressed. For the first time in a long while, I smirk...the way he describes me, left me amused. "Okay son...." Chris and I then make our way into the living room, the rain pours a bit harder. We both sit on the couch, he sits on my lap and cuddles up to my chest. I then feel much better, much more content, being with someone who admires you so much-does bring me to a sort of warm place-only with my son. Anyone else, I'd find it a bit over the top...but we both felt that relaxation we felt when we reunited after the bus incident. He falls asleep slowly, I stare out the window-watching the rain bounce off of the nearest window in the living room. I continue to stare...I then look at my son...and can't help but feel that while he's sometimes a heavy burden-moments like this make me realize why we fit so well together.

A few months later, Chris was back at school-he saw a psychologist every week, and his night terrors would never fully go away-but seeing someone helped. I decided to buy him a stuffed animal to sleep with instead of asking to sleep in my bed all the time, and he loves it. I told him he could only leave it where he slept-and I told him he couldn't bring it everywhere, but he was okay with this.

I too went to see someone, and I guess she decided I had depression-and she gave me pills to help out with that-of course, no mental illness like that can be 'cured' with pills...this would be an ongoing thing. I never like being the center of attention, so having a mental disorder I guess kind of makes me annoyed. Jeffery the dolphin and Bosco the beagle continued to see Chris-and now that summer was approaching, Chris would be home for about a month. I had to consider what to do, so I told my boss I'd take some time off. He wouldn't normally let anyone do this, but he understood I was in need of a break, so he let me have it. For something to do, I decided to teach a summer course at a college, an FBI course-not surprising I'm sure.

The first day of teaching, the alarm clock blared off. I had already gotten Bosco to watch Chris, I had my outfit washed and ironed. Before I left, I looked at my son-who was sound asleep in his bed, cuddled up Baily-his stuffed animal. I slowly approach his bed and pat his hand, he smiles in his sleep.

As I walked down the halls of the school, I noticed most of the professors were in full suits-so I probably stood out with my loose fitting tie and jeans-but dress codes don't phase me, students gave me a few looks-perhaps it was a good thing I had dressed the way I did, maybe students would get to know the 'honest' me.

I walked into the class, it was empty, chairs were on top of large, long tables...they had me in a sort of lecture hall with a podium and microphone and a large projector screen behind me. I stood beside the podium as students, mostly furries-but some humans too. The class was full, twenty five students, I took my jacket off and cleared my throat as I rolled up the sleeves to my shirt; I approach the microphone and glance over everyone. They're about in there early twenties.

"Welcome, I'm Leonard Keaton-you can call me by my first name if you wish. You might recognize me; I adopted Chris-the human. I'll answer questions about that, I have no problem discussing my unique son. However-now that that's out of the way...we have a lot to discuss about the world of the FBI and solving murder cases...let's not waste time. Put all your books away..."

They all look at me, sort of stunned, but do so. I close the front door to the class room and detach the microphone from the stand so I can walk around.

"I want to have a Q&A...because who wants to read books this early in the morning-fuck it, it's not what you or I want to do. Now...first question?"

END