{"sf1_id":740889,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Grayson's Triad (excerpt)","author":"Tristan Black Wolf","words":5708,"posted_at":"2014-08-07T14:24:00.000Z","tags":["Gay","Gay Relationships","Lion","Love","Male","Rabbit","Wolf","soccer"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/740889-grayson-s-triad-excerpt","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/740889","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=740889\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"Another offering from my \"back catalog\" of writing.\nThe first incarnation of my character of Aleksandr (who became my lover in the story series \"Tristan and Aleksandr) was part of a trio of lovers who were to become known as \"Grayson's Triad.\" This story was the beginning of that series which rather faded when I took Aleksandr for my own. When he makes his entrance in this story, he's referring to a situation which I wrote about in \"Spotted\", uploaded recently. The song \"Fast Freight\" is a haunting one which I recommend hearing.","content":"                It was\na pitched battle, well into the second half, and still scoreless. One of the\nopposing team's midfielders dribbled toward center, passing to a wingback as\nour sweeper came in to find an opening for himself. Some very good footwork on\nthe wingback's part diverted our fellow until the ball could be sent in a short\npass to one of the attackers, who sped neatly through a hole left by our own\nmidfielders and set himself up to pop a swift one straight toward the goal. Our\ngoalie was too good for him, not merely fielding but setting up to one of our\nsweepers, who sent it back to midfield, toward one of our own best fullbacks.                Or at\nleast, that's as close to a description as this middle-aged wolf can get. I've\nbeen watching football for some time now, and although I'm still trying to\nlearn all the right terms to use, I'm afraid that I still associate most of the\npositions with the various players' names, at least for our team. To me, it's\nstill mostly, \"That guy kicked to the other guy, who got it past Philip and\nsent it to a third guy, who tried to kick the goal and got stoppered by Vikas.\"\nAt least I've gotten used to calling it \"football,\" which is proper after all.\n(Note to the United States: Why call it \"football\" when the ball almost never\ncomes into contact with a foot? Call your sport \"Rugby Light\" and bear the\nshame.)                I got\nswept up in the collegiate games because of Robbie, of course, and I'll\ncontinue to put my pawsome young footballer up against the other kind any day\nof the week. The games are so much more exciting, faster, skillful. Watching\nRobbie tear downfield, a brown-topped light gray blur of speed, to line up a\nshot at the goal is fantastic. I know to call Robbie a striker (he's told me\noften enough!). To be a great striker, you have to know how to dribble the\nfootball as well as to make your shot more often than not. I have no idea how\nthe idea came about that a rabbit's paw is supposed to be lucky, but Robbie's\ngot two, and they are amazing at this game.                Vikas,\na sleek cheetah who was all but born on the football field, is one of the best\ngoalies anywhere. I would even put him up to professional levels - and when he\ngraduates this upcoming spring, even his honors degree in pre-med might not\nhold his attention for long. The scouts have been looking him over, after all.\nFor me, however, what makes him a spectacular player (above and beyond his\napparent ability to nab nearly every ball that comes even close to the goal) is\nthat he never forgets that everyone makes mistakes, and he never holds that\nagainst anyone. I have the idea that Philip, as a defender, probably isn't\nmeant to get the ball and move it forward; however, Vikas showed his confidence\nin Philip as a team player by passing the ball a short distance to him, knowing\nthat Philip would get his bearings on an open fullback to push the play\nforward. Philip obliged beautifully, his powerful dingo's paws making a nicely\nfaked dribble backward before smacking the ball right to Seth's nimble hindpaws.                Perhaps\nanticipating that Philip's earlier error was almost certain to score a goal, the\nother team's defenders seemed a little slow on the uptake. Robbie was wide open\non the far side of the field, and Seth spotted him instantaneously. One swift\nlaser-straight kick sent the ball flying directly to Robbie, who barely did any\nshifting or dribbling - he was in perfect position, and just between you and\nme, the look on the goalie's face was priceless. The young squirrel knew\nexactly who he was facing down, and he also realized that he was going to have\nto face him alone - his sweeper was AWOL, so far ahead downfield that he was\nalmost in front of his fullbacks, which is a major error for the sweeper\nposition.                Robbie\nsized up the competition in a heartbeat, set his face in that tight little\nsmirk that (if you knew him well) telegraphed that he had found and locked on\nto the exact place that the goalie had left open. He kicked sharply and hard at\nthe goal, a pointed-toe kick that went from zero to sixty in about half a\nsecond. The crowd was on its feet even as the ball was still in the air,\nbecause they could see immediately that the opposing goalie had misinterpreted\nRobbie's body language, and he'd left a hole in his defense that only widened\nas he leapt into the air in the wrong direction, flicking is long, thick tail\nin some vain hope of knocking the ball at least slightly off course. The roar\nof the crowd increased with the speed of the football, which pushed against the\ninterior of the goalie's net so hard that some of us probably thought that it\nwould rip right through. The cheers were huge and raucous (home team and all),\nobliterating every other sound in the region.                I was\naware of all this, although my attention was elsewhere. As Robbie's toe\nconnected briskly with the ball, every other eye in the place was on the flying\ncomet that scored the first goal of the game. My eyes were on Robbie, as he\npulled up almost in slow motion, his eyes closing sharply, his face twisting\ninto a grimace. Something in the look made my fur stand on end and my tail\ntwitch. The crowd was still cheering as I started making my way toward the\nsidelines. Robbie's teammates had come up to congratulate him, but in only a\nfew seconds, they realized that he'd been hurt.                The\ngame was, officially, still in play, even though the clock was stopped for the\ninjury. I avoided crossing onto the field itself, to prevent confusion if\nnothing else. Vikas had signaled the team's coach and the medico who always\nvolunteered to keep an eye on our lads for each game. A couple of Robbie's\nteammates had made him stay seated on the ground while they waited for the doc.\nSeveral of the opposing team were watching from a short distance; crowding in,\neven if genuinely concerned for another player, was considered an invitation to\ntrouble. I was silently grateful that the other fellows had enough\nsportsmanship to be worried.                I made\nmyself stay at the team's benches on the sidelines while Robbie was seen to.\nAfter a minute or two, a pair of Robbie's teammates helped him stand on his\nleft paw, as he held his right away from the ground. I thought I could see\nblood on the tips of his toes. After a moment of protest, Robbie finally let\nhis friends form a chair for him to carry him off the field; it was as much a\ncelebration of the goal as it was to help him get to the benches on the\nsidelines. Referees began conferring with coaches of both teams, and I lost\ninterest in them as Robbie came closer.                I knew\nhe'd be fine, but it's a lover's prerogative to worry. He was smiling as his\nfriends set him down on the bench nearby. \"There,\" I heard Allen tell him. The\nlean meerkat grinned. \"And remember: All glory is fleeting.\" He nimbly dodged\nRobbie's swat toward his tail.                \"Back\nto the field, you two,\" Coach Barnaby remonstrated. The large red panda,\nhimself quite the football contender in his time, cast his eyes over the\nremaining players, settling on the other lop-eared rabbit on the team.\n\"Pritchard, you're in.\"                \"Tough\nact to follow,\" Pritchard told Robbie and took himself off to midfield. I was\ndimly aware of the decision of the coaches and refs to get the rest of the game\ngoing - about six minutes left  on the\nclock, and a home-team lead racked up. I was more interested in what the doctor\nwas saying.                \"If\nyou're very lucky, lad, we'll only have to amputate half the paw.\" The old\nbadger grinned, knowing that Robbie was as well aware as he that the problem\nwas minor. \"You got a mid-toe claw twisted, didn't ye? I would have thought that\nthis old reprobate of a coach would have told you how to make a proper\ntoe-kick.\"                \"Penberthy,\ndo your stinkin' job, the kid looks like he's hurting pretty good.\" Barnaby\nlooked Robbie in the eye. \"Okay, what happened?\"                \"I got\nthe shot,\" Robbie said quietly, with a little well-deserved smugness. He shook\nhis head. \"I know, Coach - I got eager, didn't prepare my paw properly. It's\nnot bad.\" He inhaled sharply as the medico touched the paw gingerly. \"Not too\nbad, anyway.\"                Penberthy\ndipped into his bag and got out the basics of any first aid kit - antiseptic,\ngauze, bandages, tape. \"I'd give you a quick shot of ethyl chloride to numb it\na bit, but there's a little blood - not good to use that on an open wound.\nHere, let's have a closer look. I'm guessing you jammed your claw right enough\nto pull it, di'n ya?\"                Robbie\nsaid nothing, looking away from the medico's fiddling and finally seeing me not\nfar away. He smiled - oh, how I love that smile. Toward me, he had the decency\nto blush just a little for his folly, and I smiled back, glad to know he was\nall right and in good paws. He yipped as Penberthy worked as gently as he could;\nsterile gauze pads came away with blood on them, rather a lot I thought, but I\nknew enough medicine to know that it's not necessarily a bad thing for a wound\nto bleed a bit. I wasn't about to go weak sister and panic until I knew what\nwas going on.                Robbie\nwas cleaned up, patched up, and looking better by the time that the game was\nover, with the score 1-0 over our challengers. His teammates all came over to\nmake sure he was all right and to celebrate the victory. I had to give the\nopposing goalie credit - he also came over to make sure Robbie was all right,\nand he joked (with a mischievous flick of his tail but not a hint of meanness)\nthat at least he might not have to block another shot from Robbie anytime soon.\nHe got a lot of appreciation from our team. Good manners will out.                Vikas\nsat next to Robbie, tousling the rabbit's long brown headfur affectionately.\n\"Don't make me freak like that, will ya? You probably took a few years off my\nlife!\"                Robbie\nlaughed with his teammates. The medico gave his admonition - keep off the paw\nfor at least three days, change the bandage at least once a day until we're\nsure that there's no more bleeding, and put a paw cover over it to protect it\nfor at least a week. \"After that,\" he said, \"we'll get you back onto the field,\nand not an hour before.\" Penberthy turned toward me after his pronouncement. \"And\nyou, you decadent old pup. See to him, won't ye? I swear the lad acts like he's\ngot no sense!\" His wink took all the harshness out of the comment.                \"All\nright,\" I said as the team began to head for the showers. \"You're coming with\nme, mister.\"                \"I'll\nneed a shower.\"                \"You'll\nneed a sponge bath, if you keep this up!\" I laughed. \"We'll have to make sure\nall that bandaging is wrapped in plastic before you get bathed, and I don't\nfancy having you one-pawed in a slippery shower... or fondled by your teammates,\nwhich makes for an interesting picture I must say. So - let's get you home.\nThink you can hop on one paw?\"                That\nearned me the single most excruciatingly sarcastic look that I've ever gotten\nin my life.* * * * * * * * * *                 The\nride home wasn't a long one, and in spite of his injury, Robbie was in good\nspirits. As we pulled into the drive way, I mentioned that I thought I had a\ncrutch or cane somewhere in the garage.                \"I'm\nnot broken for life, dad,\" he teased.                \"Call\nme 'dad' one more time, and you will be! Just thought it would be easier for\nyou to get around for a few days. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere.\"                \"Tempting.\"\nHe chuckled softy, leaned over to kiss me, and I took advantage of the offer to\nmake it linger a bit. \"Thank you, Grayson,\" he said softly. \"I don't think I'll\nneed a crutch, but I'll take some help getting into the house.\"                \"Done.\"                I got\nhim inside and situated on the couch for a bit, his paw properly raised and\npillowed, while I surveyed the kitchen for what we might need for dinner. He\ncalled out a request for a soda, and I complied, bringing a half-liter bottle\nof water as well. He looked at me with a disapproving eyebrow, and I reminded\nhim. \"Soda dehydrates, and you've been running about for a few hours, counting\nyour warm up. You know you're not going to make me change my mind about this.\"                \"No, I\nguess I'm not.\" He chuckled and took the water first. \"You know, you really\ndon't have to mother me. I'm a reasonably grown bunny.\"                \"Want\nme to stop?\"                \"Never.\"                \"Good\nanswer.\" I smiled at him. \"So now that I've got you right well ensconced on\nyour throne, your majesty, what shall we do next?\"                \"I\nreally should take a shower. I probably stink.\"                \"You\nsmell good to me.\"                \"I always\nsmell good to you.\"                \"Funny\nhow that works out.\" I sat next to him. \"We can work out something for a bath,\nif you want one. I think I've got dinner figured out. You want to go lie down\nfor a while?\"                \"That's\nsomething else you always think about with me.\"                \"Complaining?\"                \"Nope.\"\nRobbie laughed and leaned against me, a smile on his sweet muzzle. \"I can't\nfigure why I should feel this tired. I'm not usually so worn out after a game.\"                \"You\nhad a good shot of adrenaline from the injury, and now that it's wearing off,\nyou feel tired. You're feeling your body's reactions just like everyone else\nwould. Not,\" I hastened to add, \"that you're exactly like everyone else.\"                \"I\nguess I should nap. Could you do me the favor of an extra flat sheet, that I\ncould lie on, so that I don't get my bed stinky?\"                \"Of\ncourse. Unless you want to make my\nbed stinky.\"                He\nnuzzled against my side. \"Kinky.\"                \"Stinky\nKinky: Pheromones and More. Sounds like a really weird perfume shop, probably\nlocated right next to Spencer's Gifts and Hot Topic.\" I kissed the top of his\nhead. \"Of course, you may want to sleep alone tonight; I sometimes kick in the\nmiddle of my dreaming, and I'd hate to hit your paw.\"                \"Ow,\"\nhe said softly, grinning. \"We might risk it anyway.\"                That\nwas when he yawned, and I knew it was time to get him into one bed or another.\n\"When hungry, eat; when tired, sleep.\" I moved him gently away from me\n(something that I always hate doing) and stood. \"I'll get a sheet from the\nlinen cupboard. I'll come get you when I'm ready.\"                \"Compromise.\"\nHe held out his forepaws to me. \"I'll go with you and balance briefly on one paw\nwhile you take twelve whole seconds to lay out the sheet.\"                \"In\nyour vastly weakened condition?\" I opined in great melodrama. \"Oh, the pain,\nthe pain!\"                Don't\nlet anyone tell you that rabbit tongues can't produce excellent raspberries.\nLaughing, I helped him up and, with very little assistance on my part, we made\nit down the hall to his room. I propped Robbie up just inside the door and made\na great show of counting out the seconds as I ran to the cupboard for the sheet\nand threw it open, spread it upon his bed, and presented the finished product\nwith a flourish. I helped him wheel around and sit on the bed, stood nearby as\nhe hugged me around my middle. No matter how much control I may think I have,\nmy tail always starts wagging when he holds me. I daresay I'll never have any\nsecrets from Robbie.                \"Okay,\nPelé,\" I said smiling, petting his brown headfur softly. \"How much of these\nclothes do you want to take off?\"                He\npulled away from me, put a finger to his muzzle. \"Hmm,\" he said, \"let me see...\nI'll take Stripped Nekkid for $1000, Alex.\"                \"Jackpot!\"\nI shouted. He needed very little help with his shirt, shorts and jock strap. It\nwas the socks - one sock - that would be a problem. Knee-high, open at the heel\nand just above the toes, the sock on the bandaged paw might not want to slide\neasily over the bandage. I took off the left sock first, and we considered the\nsecond.                \"How\ntender is that toe?\" I asked.                \"Enough\nthat I wouldn't turn down some ibuprofen,\" he admitted. \"Here, let me try\nfirst.\"                He\npulled the sock down from knee to heel, then began working the bottom portion\ntoward the bandages. The fabric had a lot of stretch to it, but it was also\ndesigned to be a fairly tight support to paw and calf. A few moments of\nfiddling revealed that removing it gently wasn't likely to be a successful\nprocess.                \"Scissors?\"\nI suggested.                \"They're\npractically new,\" he objected.                \"And\nreplaceable. I'll make room in the budget.\" I smiled at him. \"I hate wasting\nthings, too, but it's probably for the best. We'll keep the other sock as an\nextra, in case you wear out one of a new pair. I'll go get the scissors. And\nthat ibuprofen.\"                Moments\nlater, as Robbie downed the pills with yet more water, I knelt before him and\nreadied myself for the operation. In the moment before I began, I took the\nmoment to appreciate the young lepine's beauty. Soft silvery-gray fur covered\nmost of him, set off by the beautiful cream-white from his chin, down his chest\nand abdomen, turning to a matched pair of inside-leg chaps down his thighs. His\nchestnut brown head hair matched his lovely eyes, and he remains to this day\nthe most beautiful young lad I've set eyes on. And I have the privilege and\nhonor of calling him my mate.                \"Calling\nDr. Chase,\" he said, grinning. \"Dr. House wants you in surgery.\"                Mimicking\nHugh Laurie as best I could, I answered, \"I don't recall actually wanting Chase anywhere at all, but he'll\ndo in a pinch.\" I snipped gently and the sock came away easily enough; Robbie\nsighed and stretched himself out on the bed. \"Blanket?\" I asked.                He\nshook his head. \"I'm okay right now; if I get chilled, I'll fold the rest of\nthe sheet over me.\"                I\nleaned over the bed and kissed him softly. \"I'll figure out something to help\nget you bathed before dinner,\" I said. \"Get some rest. Holler if you need me.\"                \"I\nalways need you,\" he said, a sweet smile on his muzzle. \"But I can manage\nwithout you for short periods.\"                That\nearned him another kiss. \"I love you, Robbie.\"                \"Love\nyou too, Grayson.\"                I\nsmoothed his headfur gently and left him alone to doze for a while.* * * * * * * * * *                 Some\ntime later, I heard the front door close just a little too enthusiastically. I\nrose from my chair in my workroom and wound through to the living room in time\nto see a very large cerulean-furred lion, his mane and markings made of indigo,\ntoss his gym bag down onto the sofa with a small measure of disgust.                \"Aleksandr,\nare you all right?\"                The\nyoung male looked up at me, startled at first, his deep, dark golden eyes\nexpressing surprise and a little embarrassment. \"Oh, I'm sorry, Grayson. Just\nfrustrated.\" His voice, ordinarily smooth and purring, was laced with the\njagged edge of irritation. \"I shouldn't let small things bother me so much.\"                \"What\nhappened? Come on, sit down and talk to me for a moment.\"                He\nmoved over to the large recliner that we had bought especially for him (being\n6'9\" tall, not to mention 60\" at the chest and 48\" at the waist, can require\none to make some concessions to the furniture budget) and sat with slightly\nless grace than I was used to from him. He sighed heavily, passing a forepaw\nacross his handsome muzzle. His thickly-furred tail tip flicked in frustration,\na sign that he was more than just a little bothered. \"It\nmight be easier if I found another gym, but I hate the idea of running away.\"                \"Back\nup, luv, you lost me at the bakery.\"                Aleksandr\nsnorted a quiet laugh and smiled at me. \"Just some irritating homophobes. I\nsuppose they're everywhere, like the poor and Homeland Security.\"                \"What's\ngoing on with them, then?\"                \"They're\njust being mouthy, little snide comments from time to time, making a big deal\nout of not being the shower if there's a 'fag' in there.\" He shook his head,\nhis lavish mane dancing softly around his shoulders. \"Not much I can do about\nit, I suppose.\"                I\nlooked at him curiously. \"Forgive me if I'm a little prejudiced in your favor,\nbut what in the world would make someone want to challenge someone of your\nroyal proportions? Do they have a death wish?\"                That\nmade him chuckle. Aleksandr is the original gentle giant, with rarely an ill\nword or a raised voice to anyone. \"I have no idea if they know that I'm gay.\nNo, it's a young stoat who's joined the club recently. I've helped spot for him\nonce or twice, when he was using the free-weights. He's still bench pressing a\nweight that I could lift with one arm, and that's absolutely not anything to be\nashamed of; everyone has to start on the low end and work up, or at least they\ndo if they're smart. Even so, there aren't many people there who are in that\nweight class, so he's been keeping more or less to himself.\"                \"And\nsomeone is after him because he's gay?\"                \"That's\nthe worst. I'd be willing to wager that he isn't.\" Aleksandr looked at me\nsadly. \"I'm not sure if my 'gaydar' actually works, but I'm figuring that he's\nstraight. He's just... well, the guy is a perfect candidate for the 98-pound\nweakling in those old Charles Atlas posters. In his case, 98 pounds would be\npretty well distributed; he's a probably a little shorter than Robbie, no real\nexcess weight nor muscle. From what I can see of his workout, he's wanting to\nbuild more stamina than raw muscle, and he's dedicated himself to a good\nregimen.\"                I\nshrugged. \"I've never been one for the gyms.\" I chuckled. \"Sorry, of course you\nknow that. The stories and social structures all come from you. You'd know\nbetter than I what to do.\"                \"I\nreally don't know,\" he said. \"Gyms are pretty cliquish, and he hasn't really\nfound anyone to work out with.\"                \"You\ncould offer.\"                \"I\ncould. I'm just not sure if it's a good idea. If those queer-haters know that\nI'm gay, I'd probably make things worse for the kid. And I'm not sure what his\nreaction would be either. He was in the showers at the same time that I was\nthis afternoon. I tried very hard to act no differently, not paying attention\nand not actively ignoring him. One of the really verbal guys started to come\nin, then saw 'the fag' was using the facilities and noisily decided to leave.\" Aleksandr's\nface showed real pain. \"The kid looked over at me, maybe wondering if I was\ngoing to leave too, or maybe even assault him. I just finished my shower in my\nown time and left him to himself.\"                \"That\nmight be enough to start up a dialog with him,\" I suggested. \"Next time you see\nhim, talk to him. Straight or gay, he might welcome a friend.\"                \"Sounds\nlike something from the film My Bodyguard,\"\nhe grinned, then sighed. \"Won't do any good to wonder until I meet him next.\nYou're right - I'll see if he wants to have a chat.\"                I\nsmiled. \"You and Robbie have both had interesting days.\"                \"Robbie?\nWhat happened?\"                I told\nhim the Terrible Tale of the Torn-Up Toe, and Aleksandr winced once in genuine\nsympathy. \"He's not in hospital, is he?\"                \"Oh no,\nit wasn't that serious. He's dozing in his room.\" I glanced at the clock. \"We\ncould go wake him soon. I told him I'd figure out how to get him bathed with\nthat paw in a bandage, so he could be clean before dinner. I got as far as\nfiguring out how to stick his paw in a plastic bag and tie it around with\nrubber bands, and then I got stuck. I don't want him to slip in the shower, and\na bath might be problematic in getting him in and out.\"                Aleksandr\ngrinned. \"That's what you keep me around for.\"* * * * * * * * * *                 The\nsolution was simple enough: Aleksandr could pick up Robbie with one paw, if\nneed be. He ran a bath, then helped Robbie into the tub, stripped (\"No matter\nhow we work this, I'm going to get wet\"), and he sat on the floor nearby; they\ntalked while Robbie bathed. Robbie kept the bandaged paw out of the water, and Aleksandr\nused a damp cloth to clean whatever parts of said paw the bandage didn't cover\nup. I wasn't there to witness the removal process, but I heard plenty of\ngiggling, laughing, and water sloshing, so I wasn't too worried. Evidently,\nRobbie was feeling quite a bit better.                My\nsweet lovers came by my workroom, both naked, Robbie cuddled into Aleksandr's powerful\nembrace, his arm about the lion's strong neck, clearly enjoying being coddled\nand cared for. I smirked up at them. \"I don't suppose the term 'dressed for\ndinner' has any meaning in this situation? Not that it has to, I suppose, but I\nfigure it could make things a little less distracting for us if there were\nsomething to cover up that decadent display of raw male sexuality.\"                The\nlion regarded the rabbit seriously. \"Black tie?\"                \"Only\nfor bondage.\"                \"Business\ncasual?\"                \"It's\nnobody's business.\"                \"Shorts?\"                \"Shorts.\"                Aleksandr\nlooked at me with a grin. \"No Speedos!\"                \"Shorts,\"\nI agreed. \"I'll get dinner started. What shall you two be up to in the\nmeantime?\"                \"Would\nyou play for me?\" Robbie asked his native bearer. Aleksandr raised his\neyebrows. \"Play for me, not with me.\"                \"Oh\npooh,\" pouted the lion, then grinned again. \"I'd love to. Got something I'd\nlike for you to hear.\"                \"You're\nwelcome to bring it in to the kitchen table,\" I called after them. I always did\nlove to hear Aleksandr play guitar.* * * * * * * * * *                 The\nkitchen smelled of honey and ginger as I prepared one of my sort-of Chinese\ndishes. All of us cook, actually; Aleksandr is the undisputed champion of the\ngrill, our combined rôtisseur and grillardin, and Robbie is unsurpassed in\npastries of all kinds, as well as soufflés, quiches, and things made in the\noven that are - if you'll forgive the gay cliché - simply to die for. I learned\nthe majority of my cooking in my college days (including the Masters degree period),\nso my specialties are mostly the throw-it-together mixtures of something frozen\nor prepared, plus some cooked meat of one kind or another, seasoned with spices\nand sauces both plain and exotic. Generally speaking everything ends up in one\nbowl, which makes the flavors blend as well as making clean-up easy. Nothing\nterribly fancy, but no one seemed to complain. The Iron Chefs in our kitchen\nare judged on a 100-point scale: 10 for taste, 5 for creativity, 5 for\npresentation, and 80 for not having to get up off your furry tail and cook it\nyourself.                Easy to\nsee how we get such high scores.                As I\ntossed together tonight's not-so-secret ingredients, I was listening to Aleksandr\nplaying a variety of riffs on his guitar. We're a lucky trio in another way, as\nwe're all musicians. Robbie picked up the violin from a fairly early age; when\nhe also elected to play football, his parents nearly had fits, fearing sports\ninjuries. As they came to realize, Robbie's talented forepaws were in far less\ndanger from this game than, say, rugby or even lacrosse (bang those crosse poles together a few times, and\nyour paws will feel the rough vibrations for minutes afterward). When he was\nable to keep up with his studies, his practice, and his football all at the\nsame time, they became avid fans in the auditorium and in the stands.                I'm the\npiano-picker in the band, and I've had my experimentations with electronic\nkeyboards as well. For some things, nothing beats a piano, not even a sampled\nor electronic piano; it doesn't matter that the sound is \"close,\" or even\n\"exact\" (har-dee-har-har), it's the sound and feel of a pianoforte in the same room with you that makes the difference.\nWould that I could afford a Bösendorfer 290 Imperial - oh, the sheer sensuality\nof playing such an instrument! And 97 keys? As Debussy, Ravel, and others have\ncommanded, the Imperial would deliver... at a cost about equal to our rather\nlarge house. I was quite happy with my Steinway Model L Grand, just under six\nfeet long and ringing with authority in the lower and upper registers equally.\nAdd the Yamaha Clavinova CVP-409, and I'm a key-pluckin' fool.                Robbie\nsat at the kitchen table, his right hindpaw up on a pillowed chair, smiling at Aleksandr\nfondly as the lion tuned his guitar. He made a bit of a show out of it, both\nfrom a sense of personal perfection and because he knew that it irritated\nRobbie a little. This sort of teasing goes on all the time in this house. About\nthe time that I cleared my throat quite melodramatically, Aleksandr got the\nhint and started some actual strumming. \"I've been going through your old CDs,\nGrayson - the ones in the common library downstairs. You never told me about\nthe Kingston Trio before.\"                \"Guilty,\"\nI chuckled. \"I wasn't sure either of you would be interested in those guys.\nThey're pretty mellow, almost countrified by today's standards.\"                \"Dave\nGuard had some pretty good guitar riffs. I've been trying to pick up one of\nthem. Hang on a second...\" Aleksandr strummed a minor key chord, then the major,\nthen began slowly to pick a pattern consisting mostly of the tonic and the\nfifth, with the minor and major third note alternating from time to time. As he\ngrew more comfortable with the picking, he gained speed until he was making a\nsound that reminded me of a fast-moving train...                \"Good grief!\"\nI piped up. \"That's Fast Freight,\nisn't it?\"                In\nanswer, the lion brought out his beautiful low-end baritone and began to sing:As I listen for the whistle, lie awake and\nwait\nWish the railroad didn't run so near;\n'Cause the rattle and the clatter of that old fast freight\nKeeps a-makin' music in my ear\nGo bum again... go bum again...                The\nchorus came up, and I harmonized with him:Hear... the whistle blow...\nHear... the whistle blow...                He\npicked up the rest:Clickety-clack, clickety-clack,\nThe wheels are sayin' to the railroad track,\n\"Well if ya go, ya can't come back...\nIf ya go, ya can't come back...\"                Robbie\nlooked at us in open-mouthed wonder. It was clear that he'd never heard the\nsong before, and I don't care what genre of music you're used to, \"Fast\nFreight\" is a haunting little melody. With the second chorus, I could see\nRobbie's mind working, and by the third, he'd figured out exactly where his\ntenor note should come in - he nailed it the first time. Aleksandr, rightfully\nproud of his guitar skills, was happy to comply with Robbie's request for him\nto play it again. This time through, all three of us were able to chime in on\nthe chorus, trying a few different harmonies (one or two really stank, which is\noften the way it is when we first get to working on a song), and in the end we\nrealized that we had something new for our expanding repertoire.                 And\nluckily, I didn't burn dinner.                Since\nRobbie was already comfortable there, we stayed at the kitchen table to eat.\nRobbie had told Aleksandr the details of the day's game, so there was little to\nadd (except for the part about \"All glory is fleeting,\" which tickled the hell\nout of the lion). Aleksandr talked a little more about the young stoat at the\ngym. Robbie showed great sympathy. \"I think Grayson is right,\" he said. \"A\nfriend might be just what he needs.\"                \"I\nguess I'll find out next time I see him.\" Aleksandr shook his head, his\nmagnificent mane dancing about him. \"It's futile to wish that such things\ndidn't happen, I know; I still do, though. I guess I'm still looking for a\nperfect world.\"                \"It's\nokay,\" I smiled. \"We're building it, one person at a time.\"                \"Or\ntwo,\" Robbie grinned, looking at Aleksandr and myself in turn.                I\nraised my glass of soda. \"I'll drink to that.\"                \"You'll\ndrink to anything,\" the rabbit retorted.                \"Then\nI'll drink to that, too.\" I suited action to words as my lovers enjoyed a\nchuckle at my expense. It was another day in our world, in our triad, and I sent\nup a silent prayer of thanks to The Deity It May Concern that we were together.\nAnd for those wondering just how that happened... well, these pages are here to\ntell the tale..."}