Chapter One

Sherlock gazed outside of the passenger side’s window at the beautiful countryside scenery.  Since he’d retired a few days ago from the police force, the old bloodhound has said goodbye to all his canine friends and hello to retirement.  His former partner and longtime owner, Arnold, had made a phone call earlier that month to a place by the name of ‘Second Chance Acres’.  Ever since then, Sherlock had been wondering about this place, and what was there.  Now, he had a hunch that he’d be staying there for a long time.  I just hope they don’t have any rowdy puppies.  They’ll suck the life out of me like a sponge.  The car started to bump onto gravel as it entered under a wooden arch that read ‘Second Chance Acres: All Dogs Welcome’.  A high fence line surrounded the whole property, and the path wound around some conifers to a large country house with a refurnished barn behind it.

A huge mountain range ran all the way along it, and disappeared off into the distance as if it went on forever.  Thick clusters of pines were bunched together along the mountains, with gaps in places, suggesting small meadows.  Sherlock sat upright on the seat.  I think I’m beginning to like this place already.  “We’re here,” Arnold said as he parked the car on a large gravel lot beside a Cherokee and a Sedan.  He shut down the ignition and got out of the car, then opened the car door for Sherlock.  Sherlock eased himself out, so not to rattle his old bones, and followed Arnold to the front porch that wrapped around the house.  He ran the doorbell and waited, Sherlock sitting by his side.  Sherlock heard scuffling come from inside before a young boy, about the age of six answered the door.  “Are you here to give us your dog?”

Arnold smirked.  “We’re here to drop him off.  Is any of your parents home?”

The boy nodded before ducking back into the house and yelling: “Mo-om!  The dog’s here!”

Sherlock really hope that kid didn’t like to play with bloodhounds.  In a few seconds a woman came, shook hands with Arnold, and opened the door two let the two in.  Sherlock made his way across the hardwood floor to a nice, soft looking carpet and lied down on it.  He saw something dart behind the couch then dash down the hall.  It looked as if it were spying on him.  He raised a wrinkled brow.  What on earth could that be…?  He reminded himself that he’d find out later, since he would be living here.  Arnold and the woman began talking, the woman saying: “I know I’ve already gone over this on the phone, but I think it’s all right if I discuss it again.  Sherlock here will have a relaxing rest of his life out here with the other dogs, and you can visit him anytime you want—“

Sherlock tuned out.  Just skip to the point, will ya?  I’ll get to sleep whenever I want and have a nice time, yada, yada, yada.  We get it.  The white thing that had caught his attention earlier was now staring at him from the dinner table in the conjoining room.  Sherlock stared at it intensely.  It was a Jack Russell pup, a curious one.  “Hello there, young one,” he said.  The pup’s eyes bulged as it realized that Sherlock had seen him.  Before Sherlock could even try to speak to the pup again, it had darted in the opposite direction, through the doggie door in the kitchen and outside.  Sherlock couldn’t help but feel compelled to find out just what that pup had been doing, and why he heard something like two beings speaking outside.  Just as he pulled himself up, Arnold finished speaking with the woman and got up to leave.  Sherlock eyed the back door suspiciously before trotting alongside Arnold to say goodbye.  At the door, Arnold paused and bent down to caress Sherlock one last time.  “You’ll have a great time here,” he said before standing up and going out the door.  Sherlock ran up to the nearest window and saw Arnold get into the car and start to drive out of the path. 

Sherlock gave a long bloodhound bray as the car disappeared around the bend and was gone.  He felt now that he’d really miss Arnold and the police force; it was like being torn in two.  He knew he’d have an absolutely splendid life out here, but he missed the police work.  Sherlock stood there for a while before the lady came over and petted him on the head.  “It’s OK boy.  C’mon, we’re going to meet the other dogs now.”

Sherlock perked up.  Ah-hah!  Now I get to see who those other two are!  He followed her with haste as she walked outside with him.  Sherlock trotted to the back of the house where the doggie door was and found a strong scent of dog there.  He heard the lady sigh.  “Where are those two?”

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled: “Tyrone!  Wishbone!  Here boys!  Come here!”

Sherlock hid himself in the afternoon shadows the house cast and lay in wait.  This seems ridiculously close to those stakeouts I used to do…  He spied two white specks come out from the fields and grow into dogs forms as they ran up to the woman.  The taller of the two, a foxhound, wagged his tail like made while the Jack Russell kept hopping up and down, up and down.  Good Lord, what did that fellow have for breakfast?  Caffeine?  The woman pointed over to Sherlock, said: “He’s a little shy, but I think you’ll all become great friends.”

Sherlock snorted.  Shy she says; I’m observing, not hiding.  The two dogs bounded over to Sherlock.  He got up and found himself taller than them, which boosted his self esteem a bit. 

“Hi,” the foxhound said, “I’m Tyrone—“

“And I’m Wishbone.”

“My name’s Sherlock.  I’m a retired police dog, and expect for my stay to be pleasant.  Am I clear?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” the dogs barked.  Sherlock with-strained from rolling his eyes.  Wise guys.  “And I don’t need any funny business either.”

He turned on his heels and left to explore, hoping he was clear with the dogs.

“Boy, what a grouch,” Wishbone mumbled.  Tyrone shot a hard look down at the pup.  “Wha-a-at?”

“He just wants some peace and quiet,” Tyrone said,  “Old dogs are like that, and besides, he deserves it.  He must’ve been big back in his younger days, and he should be treated well here if he was then too.  And, that was kind of stupid to do that “Sir, yes, Sir” thing.”

The terrier looked unimpressed.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  As long as he doesn’t start correcting every little thing I—“

Tyrone cleared his throat as he gave Wishbone another glare.  “Okay, okay.  I’m going to go find a hare and follow it down a hole.”  He began to scamper away.  “Don’t wait up!” he hollered over his shoulder.  “Like I would,” Tyrone said under his breath.  He returned his attention to the old hound slinking away.  Maybe I could act as a kind of guide for him.  He’ll probably need my help if he runs into something—like a dangerous animal.  Tyrone ran after Sherlock.  “Hey!  Hey!  Wait for me!”

He jolted to a walk when he reached Sherlock’s side.  The hound had his head low and legs moving—fast. 

“Need me to show you around?”

“No.”

“Need me to help you with anything?”

“No.”

“Need me to show you the nice, quiet places?”

“No.”

“Need me to…show you the pond?”

“No.”

“Want me to go away?”

“Yes.”

Tyrone quit trying to keep up.  “Have it your way.  But if you do decide to let me help you, don’t hesitate to call me,” he assured.

“Right.  I highly doubt that will happen,” Sherlock replied, not even stopping or pausing to look Tyrone square in the eye.  Tyrone lowered his head and turned to leave.  He’ll come around…in a month or two.

Chapter Two

Wishbone sped in hot pursuit after a frightened hare, tongue lolling and legs blurring.  Almost gotcha!  Almost gotcha!  Almost gotcha!  He screeched to a stop when the hare ran for cover into a thicket.  Wishbone sniffed the branches and saw the hare stick it’s tongue out at him before springing to safety.  Wishbone’s eyes narrowed as he yipped at the smart-alec hare.  “I’ll get you next time!” Wishbone threatened, “you think you’re so lucky, don’t ya!  Well you’ll be sor-ry!”

“And so will you.”

Wishbone didn’t recognize that voice at all.  He slowly turned to face the canine, then froze.  A massive black wolf stood towering over him.  Wishbone’s tail tucked under him as he started to quake.  “Look what we have here, boys,” the wolf said as he stuck his big muzzle in Wishbone’s face.  “A puppy-dog.”

Sherlock awakened to the sound of a puppy’s yelping.  He stretched out on the porch and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.  He noticed Tyrone