Ben joined them, and waved.
Theo was seated at an outdoor table in the shade under a low, neatly trimmed thatch roof. The edges of the patio behind him were thick with green bushes ringed in bright flowers. The sun was setting on sweeping, lush hills in the background.
A gold chain with a cross showed through his unbuttoned dress shirt. Theo held a sandwich in his hands, and he wore several large rings. He said, “Are those my kliene honds? My how they’ve grown, they look proper sterke.”
“Strong they are,” Hamish said, “And smart as the blazes. Just you wait and see.”
“Hamish,” Theo said, leaning forward again, “Why does one of my beautiful boerboel dogs have train tracks running down the side of his face?”
“Training accident,” Ben said.
Theo stared at his dog for moment, and then at Christa’s eye, and Ben’s chin, and Hamish’s cane.
Hamish quickly asked, “How are things in KwaZulu-Natal, Theo?”
Theo waved his hand as if brushing something out of the way and said, “Eish, Hamish. We are still having a hang of a problem with the poachers. They took another rhino this morning and it’s getting worse every week.” Theo paused and then he waved that away, too. He smiled and said, “But I’m enjoying a sarmie in the boma, it’s twenty eight degrees, and life is lekker, brother. How can I complain?”
“How’s your mum, and your cousin?” Hamish asked.
“Mum says thanks for the puzzle, she’s pulling her kinky damn hair out over it,” Theo said, “And my stroppy cousin is still plenty mal in the head, man. The King talks about taking a seventh wife. He may need Vuur and Rook more than I do. Speaking of crazy women, did you get my gift?”
“Yes, I did,” Hamish said, “But I don’t think I’ll have an opportunity to use it anytime soon.”
Christa said, “A coupon for a Joburg brothel is hardly what he needed, Theo.”
Theo tipped his bald head back and roared. He leaned forward and said, “Tell me one Hamish, I know you have one.”
Without a pause Hamish said, “Have I told you about the young Zulu warrior and his chieftain father who went to Joburg city for the first time?”
Theo was already laughing, “No Hamish, you certainly have not.”
Hamish said, “They were amazed by everything they saw. The buildings were impossibly tall, and their lobbies were adorned with the finest stone, but they were truly in awe of the shiny walls that moved apart and back together again. 'What is this, father?' the son asked. His father shook his head as he responded, 'I have never seen such a thing in all of my years, my son'. Just then a round old woman with a surly puss waddled past them and got into the elevator. The doors closed, the numbers above the doors counted up, stopped, and then counted back down. The doors opened and a smiling young choty goty blonde with big anties strolled out. 'Son, go get your mother' the Zulu chief said.”
Theo pounded on the boma’s table. Shaking his head, he said, “That’s top kif, Hamish, pure riches!”
For the next hour Hamish took Theo through Rook and Vuur’s training and abilities, with Christa and Ben helping to set up the demonstrations and move the tablet when needed.
Although they laughed and busted each other’s balls a lot Theo was very serious about understanding the details of each test and grilled Hamish thoroughly on any limitations to the dogs’ skills. Theo was quickly realizing there weren’t many.
While they watched the exercises from the sidelines Christa quietly told Ben about the huge trust Theo managed for his cousin, the Zulu king, who was a direct descendent of King Shaka himself. Theo oversaw almost a third of the king’s land, including several gold and diamond mines. He also ran the king’s game reserve and the KwaZulu-Natal wing of the South African Police Service, the area’s provincial law enforcement. Hamish had trained all of the king’s top staffer’s protection canines for decades. They’re usually shepherds, but the South African boerboel was Theo’s breed of choice for his personal guard dogs.
At the end of the final demonstration Vuur and Rook darted over to stand at Christa’s side. They each held a handgun in their mouth. She raised a hand and they set the guns down at her feet. Ben and Hamish hobbled into the picture showing off their un-torn jackets. They had been disarmed without a scratch.
As Hamish walked up to the tablet Ben could see his uncle wasn’t holding back the pride clearly evident on his ruddy face. The big Scot smiled broadly and said, “Well Theo, what do you think?”
Theo had stopped chewing a half hour earlier. In fact he hadn’t moved, and most of the meat had fallen out of his sandwich.
He leaned forward in his chair, pointed at the screen and said, “Hamish you must not show these animals to anyone and we need to talk about a contract before you take on any more work. I want you down here training my trainers, no grapje.”
Christa clapped Hamish on the back and said, “If we’ve impressed you so far, Theo, you’re gonna love this.”
For an encore Rook and Vuur easily took Hamish to the ground and disarmed him as they had in the earlier exercise, but in the blink of an eye Vuur pinned Hamish’s arms while Rook looped a paw around Hamish’s neck and under his bearded chin. He slid his rear leg up, hooking it with his front paw locked in the crook of his hind hock.
Rook tightened, arching his strong back as he sunk in the choke hold.
Hamish quickly tapped out as his head was pulled painfully backwards. The big brown mastiffs let him go and Hamish grabbed their collars. They backed up and helped to pull the big, coughing man to his feet.
“Thank goodness the guards at Number Four prison never met you,” Theo said as he stared at the screen, “You are truly a dog fundi, my chommie. All of you are.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and said, “My friends I need to go, but all kidding aside Hamish we need to talk again soon. Name your price and clear your calendars.”
A few minutes later Christa was packing up the tripod while Hamish and Ben sat on the tailgate of the pickup with the pups, feeding the police dogs some biscuits.
Hamish put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and said to Spot and Smudge, “So, partners, when does your summer vacation start?”
Chapter 91
Kelcy walked into the office and the frosted glass doors closed behind her with a soft whoosh. She put a tablet down on the corner of her boss’s desk.
Dr. Martin Osipoff smiled and held a finger up to her as he spoke into his cell phone.
“No, it’s never a bad time for y’all,” Marty said warmly to the caller, “I can make the conference call, give me three minutes. Yes…Okay…Thank you.”
As he put the phone down he reached across the desk and retrieved the tablet. He flicked around the screen for a moment, and in his charming slight drawl said, “This is perfect, thanks Kels. How you getting on with the golden?”
“Hunkey dorey, boss,” Kelcy said with a big smile, “We set her leg and Lindsay’s showing me how to change the drain after school tomorrow. She should be chasin’ cars again in a week.”
“Well that’s just fine, nice work kid. Go ahead and knock off a little early,” Marty said. As he stood up he added, “Oh, when’s your brother coming home? I have something he might be interested in.”
“They’re leaving the ranch tomorrow I think,” Kelcy said, “So he’ll be home this weekend. I’ll bring him around next week.”
They chatted for a minute more about the cases she was working on before the teen bounced out of the office and the doors closed behind her.
Marty tapped a remote panel on his desk and watched her walking to the front of the clinic on the security monitor feeds. He tapped on the screen again and a strip of green light along the top edge of his office doors switched to red and there was a faint click as the doors locked. A moment later a solid door slid closed over the frosted glass doors, blocking out the light from the hallway. The window shades shut and the lights dimmed just a little.
The security feeds on the office’s large monitors were rep
laced by the clinic’s logo with a small padlock icon below it. A green status bar moved quickly around the icon.
He came around to the front of his desk and leaned on it as a large man and a pretty muscular brunette appeared in each of the monitors.
Marty said, “Good evening Katia, privyet Semion, I trust you are both—”
“We’ve had a major fucking setback in Canada,” Katia said, cutting off the doctor, “What’s your status?”
“Both sites are fully operational,” Marty said, looking down at his trousers as he brushed away a dog hair, and Katia’s all-to-frequent rudeness, “And we’re ready to begin testing.”
“Da, that is good,” Semion said with a nod. His eyes shifted to Katia and he said, “So we do it the hard way. Start your program now, dear daughter.”
The story continues…
Let Slip the Pups of War
Spot and Smudge - Book 3
The conclusion of this Spot and Smudge trilogy picks up immediately after Ben and the pups’ adventures in Canada. This face paced, inventive, black-witted tale uncovers the riddle of the pups' secrets and exposes the terrifying forces behind the accelerator compound. It also brings together the richly drawn characters from the first two books and a host of intriguing new players, hurling them into a hunt that spans the globe and poses the ultimate test for this cunning family and their amazing pups.
Afterword from your author
Late January, a little south of Boston…
I curse the winter. I truly despise the cold and am so very ready to be done with shoveling snow. If I never have red cheeks or blue fingers again that would be just fine. After many (many) years of living in the north alongside the other nutty people who struggle through the dark months to keep their cars running and their pipes from freezing… and in February start to consider wrapping themselves in their electric blankets and jumping into a hot bath… I am so ready to celebrate however many New Year’s Eves I have left by raising a carved pineapple cup with my toes in the sand somewhere warm.
However, I would miss watching my dogs playing in the snow.
I would miss it a lot.
If you have spent a winter where appreciable amounts of snow and dogs are both present you’ve likely experienced canines’ love for the white stuff…and my pups happily bound face first into it like furry Tony Montanas.
Regardless how far south the thermometer needle points they scramble over each other to be the first one through the door whenever there’s fresh snow to run through. It doesn’t matter that they just ran through it a few hours ago, and every day for the past week, or month. Even in the coldest New England winters, when the snow is so high they have to be let out through the garage, the pups can’t wait to be neck deep in it. They bound off in great leaps to chase some unseen thing into the woods and return hours later with icicles hanging from their coats, wagging. Not that they won’t be shivering and ready to come in, but after an hour napping in front of the fire they’ll be begging to go out and do it all over again. A fresh new inch of snow will have fallen and for some reason it will be imperative they run around like idiots all over again with their noses buried in it.
I can watch them for hours. They play tag, they dig, they pounce, and they help me shovel the driveway by fighting in my neat piles of snow and pushing them back down onto the driveway. I do envy having that much enthusiasm for the cold, but I think red cheeks should be from sunburn, and blue fingers should only come from stirring an icy beverage.
Yet here I sit, typing about deranged wolves chasing oblivious skiers through the snow as the cold New England weather wraps around the house and more of the white stuff falls, again. Two medium-sized black dogs are standing by the back door, wagging (sort of in sync) and staring at me. After all, a fresh inch has fallen and it’s not going to sniff or pee on itself.
As I get up from my warm chair to put on my coat and gloves, and to grab the shovel, I realize I can’t bitch too much. We’ll be back in front of the warm fire soon, and the pups seem to be enjoying me reading them the last few chapters about the insane rogue wolves, the crazed bear, and those murderous miners chasing our protagonists through the great white north. Not a bad way to pass a snowy afternoon.
I hope you have enjoyed these stories, too. I’m always interested in hearing about it if you did.
If you didn’t, well come on over for a cup of tea and a chat. To stay warm you can borrow the electric blanket, it’s hanging in the bathroom above the warm tub. Just be careful, it’s slippery in there.
Regards, BU
One million eye rolls, and counting…
There is an amazing group of creative, sharp, patient people who save me from myself. I’m convinced dogs learn loyalty from people like them…and they could teach coyotes a few things about rending flesh, too, and I mean that in the best possible way. These stories simply wouldn’t happen without their many talents. Thanks, Alphas.
Allison Caputo
Chelsea Watt
Morgan Watt
Elaine Onoyan
Kristi Hornickel
Paul VanOpens
Paul LeClerc.
Are you enjoying the Spot and Smudge books? The best compliment you can ever pay me is a positive review. I realize it takes a few clicks and a few minutes of your time but it truly does help and is greatly appreciated. If you’ve recommended the books to a friend, or left a positive review please let me know so I can thank you.
Warmest regards, Bob Udulutch
You can also see pictures of the real Spot and Smudge, and read about them and the charities they support (and a little about your author) at our website.
Rudulutch.com
The Glasgow Gray: Spot and Smudge - Book 2 Page 41
