“Well, guys, are you ready to go?” asked Hunter. Instead of his usual attire, the retriever wore a red T-shirt, loose-fitting white shorts, and a green visor.

Exile lifted his head and blinked bloodshot eyes. “Sorry, comrade, but I am not feeling so cold. I think I may be coming down with a hot.” (Of course he meant, “Not feeling so hot…may be coming down with a cold) To emphasize his point, he coughed a few times.

Shag nodded, then paused as his phone rang. He pulled it out of his fur and answered. “Rerro? Rah. Ruh row ruh rur ruh.” He turned to Hunter and, placing a paw over the phone, uttered a further string of dog-words.

“What’d he say?” asked Colleen, who was dressed in a white T-shirt and modest pink shorts.

“Oh, brilliant,” muttered Colleen. That left just three for tennis: herself, Hunter…and Blitz.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” added Exile weakly. “Weird boy won’t be coming. He said he got coupon for a free manicure.”

Hunter nodded and shrugged. “Well, Colleen, do you want to cancel the game, or just play it one-on-one?”

Colleen didn't answer, but she picked up her racket and followed Hunter to the Street Rover with an unmistakable smile on her lips.

As soon as they were out of sight, Exile reached up to his eyes and removed two contact lenses, each with a red, cracked-looking design on it. “These novelty lenses sure did the trick-ski,” he said cheerfully.

As Hunter and Colleen drove out of the base, they passed Blitz, who was a little too bothered at the moment to notice them. Pulling into the base, he glared at Exile and Shag. “Okay, who forgot to tell me the place was closed?”

Exile and Shag exchanged grins. Not only was the place closed, but the coupon they had given Blitz was expired.

“Oh, they are long gone,” said Exile. “Hunter and Colleen, they have flown the jail like coop-birds.”

Blitz’s eyes widened. “What? How could they leave for the game without me? Everyone knows I am the best.”

“Dah,” remarked Exile facetiously. “You are in league by yourself.” He neglected to mention that being in his own league was the only way Blitz could be he best in a league or team of any kind.

“Shag and I got them to go, just the two of them. Is time they stop beating with hands around bush full of birds.”

“Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but now I’m definitely going.” And with that, Blitz revved the motor and peeled off in a cloud of smoke.

Shag shrugged. “Ruhrro,” he replied. Then he noticed the clock. “Ruh ro. Rah rah ro,” he added, taking off. He had places to go, people to see, and food to cook on Chef TV.

The game between Hunter and Colleen took place at a tennis club in a quiet town at the end of tourist season, which suited Hunter just fine. He liked being a superhero, and the attention that came with it was nice, but having started his life on a farm, he enjoyed a break now and then. Colleen, too, enjoyed a little time to spend away from crowds and noisy fights. But while both dogs had mellow tastes, their gameplay was anything but. With his super-speed, Hunter could intercept almost any shot. But Colleen's agility enabled her to maneuver almost as quickly around the court, and she could send the ball into directions Hunter wouldn't expect.

Blitz watched enviously from a bush on Hunter's side of the court, waiting. All he needed was for that ball to come his way, and... he smiled as he pulled a bomb out of his pocket. A bomb which, naturally, looked just like a tennis ball.

He didn't have to wait long. A hard swipe from Colleen sent the ball almost straight into his mouth.

“I got it,” said Hunter even though no one else was playing. He approached the bush and reached under, retrieving a ball. Blitz, meanwhile, had snuck backwards behind the shrub to stay out of sight. He crouched on the ground, fingers in his ears and eyes on the match through a tiny gap in the hedge. He could scarcely contain himself as he watched Hunter toss the ball up in the air, swing the racket, and...

… serve the ball to Colleen? Where was the boom? It should have sent him clear to Milwaukee! But the ball didn't explode, it just flew across the court.

Blitz stared in confusion at the ball in his hand. Had he left the real ball for Hunter to pick up by mistake?

The other ball flew over the hedge, landing at Blitz's feet. Perfect, he thought. I'll just switch dem now, and...

Hunter and Colleen stared as a cloud of fire erupted on the far side of the bushes. “Blimey!” exclaimed Colleen.

“Huh,” said Hunter, scratching his head. “I was sure we were using a real tennis ball.”

He looked back at Colleen, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment. With a shrug, Colleen walked over to the hopper (basket of tennis balls, to you laymen), plucked out a normal one, and tossed it to Hunter. “Still your serve, luv,” she called.

Blitz watched the exchange from a nearby tree where the blast had thrown him. He was not amused. Or comfortable, for that matter. The fact that his waistband was snagged on the stump of a broken-off branch probably had some part in that.

The two played for a few hours before deciding to wander around a bit and look for something else to do. They chatted, all smiles as they approached the parking lot. But when they saw their car, their smiles disappeared. “What happened?” asked Hunter.

Colleen viewed the ruptured tires with a mixture of confusion and anger. It didn't take a genus to see that the damage was no accident. “Well offhand, I’d say someone has a rotten idea of a joke,” she answered.

“Eh, if it’s any comfort, this sort of thing doesn’t happen much here. Usually the troublemakers are found in the next town over.” He shrugged. “But there’s always a first time.” He rubbed his chin and stared at the hood. “I’d better take a look at the engine while I’m at it.”

Hunter pushed a button under the dashboard and the hood popped up. The mechanic stuck his head in, muttering to himself. “Yep,” he groused. Neither Rover was much of a mechanic – Exile generally handled jobs like that. But both of them could tell by his tone something was off. “Just as I thought,” he declared. “Somebody made off with your distributor cap, and they liberated a few other parts too.”

“You better believe it is,” the man grumbled as he emerged. He twitched his moustache back and forth as if his nose itched. “Looks like the wires to the cap were cut with a knife.”

“Of course I can fix it,” he said, sounding slightly indignant. Sticking a hand in his pocket, he added, “Unfortunately, I don’t have the parts here. I’ll have tow your car back to the shop for repairs.”

“It’s gonna take a good while to get it done. You folks might want to walk around a bit, long as you’re waiting.”

Fifteen minutes later, Hunter and Colleen were sitting at a table in a small restaurant. “Lucky for us, this place forgot to put up that three-word sign.”

A waitress walked up, clearly a bit weirded out by the fact that she was about to take the orders of a pair of canines. “And what can I get for you?”

“And I’ll have the pork chops with some onion rings, please,” added Colleen.

She jotted down their orders and walked away, a plastic smile concealing an inwardly dazed expression. First talking dogs, now synchronized talking dogs, she thought. What’s next? Turtles in colored masks?

Meanwhile, Blitz hadn’t given up causing mischief. Sneaking into the restaurant through a back entrance, he slipped on an apron and chef’s hat in hopes of blending in. It didn’t help much.

Blitz gave the first answer he could think of. “Uh, I thought it was company mascot day?” he offered weakly.

“What company, the ASPCA?” asked the cook. “Ah, never mind. The bulldog’s at table 23. He wants an order of spaghetti, lots of sauce.”

Bulldog? wondered Blitz. He decided the cook must be one of those people who couldn’t tell a mastiff from a Chihuahua, and that he was talking about Hunter. Lots of sauce, huh? he thought, eyeing a bottle of hot sauce on a nearby shelf.

“By the way,” added the cook, “No offense, but that’s a really ugly costume.”

Hunter and Colleen sat in silence at their table. “Nice place, isn’t it?” remarked Colleen, hoping to start a conversation.

“Yeah, it is,” agreed Hunter. He noticed a picture on the wall of some dogs playing poker. “Wish I had a deck of cards,” he joked.

Hunter jerked his thumb at the pprint. “I said I wish I had a deck of cards.”

Right then the waitress came back with their food. “Here you go,” she said. “Anything else?”

Meanwhile, a few tables down, a waiter was placing a steaming plate of spaghetti in front of one of the regular patrons. He was a slightly round man with graying hair and mustache, dressed in a neat blue uniform with a well-polished badge. He was the town’s police chief, Reginald “Bulldog” McCowski. “Here you go,” said the waiter. “Enjoy.”

“I’m sure I will,” the chief replied with a pleasantly gruff tone. He stuck in his fork, twirled a large ball of pasta onto it, and inserted it into his mouth. As he started to chew, his eyes bulged, and his face turned beet-red. In a panic he gulped down his glass of water, then jumped up from his seat and dashed off in a desperate search for more water.

“Whoa, what happened to him?” asked Hunter as the “Bulldog” charged past the table where he and Colleen were sitting.

“I don’t know,” answered Colleen, “but I have a feeling whoever made his lunch just might find out.”

Blitz happened to catch a glimpse of the chief as he ran by the open kitchen doorway. “What happened to him?”

After a startled look at Blitz’s “costume,” a waiter remarked, “I dunno, but I’d say Bulldog’s order didn’t agree with him.”

“You new or something? Chief McCowski’s a regular here. Everybody calls him Bulldog cause he’s so persistent.” The waiter turned to watch the rampage. “They say he once spent three years tracking down a guy who didn’t pay up a parking ticket. I can only imagine what’s gonna happen to whoever fixed his lunch.”

Blitz decided that now would be a very good time to leave. He managed to slip out the back door just as a deafening roar of, “Who made this spaghetti?!” echoed throughout the restaurant.

After a tasty, relaxed lunch, the canine couple strolled around town, enjoying the sights and the attention of those who recognized them from the news or other outlets. A number of people thought that they were just people wearing costumes, and one man even asked if they were advertising a movie or something. Others believed, however, including a little girl who actually ran out of an ice cream parlor they passed, her mother in hot pursuit.

Katie scurried up to the two of them. “Are you the Road Rovers?” she asked in that high-pitched, slightly nasal tone all children under six seem to have. They said they were, and she eagerly held up a napkin. “Can I have your autographs?” she asked, smiling and showing a missing tooth just to the left of dead-center.

Unable to resist such a cute face, they signed the napkin. “Thank you,” said the girl as her mother took her hand and, with a polite smile to the two, marched her back into the shop.

As he and Colleen exchanged a smile of their own, Hunter caught sight of something across the street over Colleen's shoulder. “Hey, check it out!”

Colleen looked behind her to see a large brick theater, its walls papered with movie posters. Crossing the street, they zeroed in on one that displayed two dogs and a cat in a pine forest.

“Must be one of those nostalgia theaters,” Colleen remarked. “Shall we go in?”

The movie was great, but the really memorable part came after it. As they were leaving, they found themselves behind a man with a little boy in tow. “Dad,” asked the boy, “Did all that stuff really happen?”

“Well, they used real animals, but they were trained. The story was made-up. I mean for one thing, no dog would ever think of using a seesaw.”

Hunter winked at Colleen. “Yeah,” he added, loud enough for the father and son to hear. “And besides, cats and dogs don't talk.”

The man turned to thank whoever was backing him up. “Right, exac-” he stopped and stared as Hunter and Colleen walked by, looking for all the world as if they owned the place.

Hunter shrugged. “Sorta. I used to explore them after hours sometimes when I was a puppy. How ‘bout you?”

They found the fair and walked in, earning a startled double-take from the teenager running the ticket booth. He stared after them in confusion, wondering if this was a prank by one of his co-workers.

An open carnival proved somewhat disorienting for the two dogs, even with their experience in noisy settings. Competing food smells, blaring music, lights, colors (which normal dogs can't see, of course, but that's just one perk of being a Road Rover), festive banners and booths, and of course the assortment of available rides blended to form a sense of inviting chaos.

The two of them walked past a variety of options. Bumper cars, pass. Squirt gun race, pass. Dog show... pass.

Then they heard the sound of a revving motor, and looked to see a man on a dirt track doing flips and wheelies as a crowd cheered him on from bleachers set up all around.

The motorcycle stunt show was fun, although in truth they had been hoping to get a chance to try it themselves. The manager told them sorry, it was for professionals only. “Besides,” he added, “You'd never be able to see well enough with those masks on.”

They shrugged it off and enjoyed themselves. Once the show got things rolling, the place was their oyster. They gorged themselves on snacks, played a few games, and enjoyed a ride and or two. Then Colleen spotted the ferris wheel. “That looks like fun,” she remarked.

I could live with that, thought Colleen. “Not scared of heights now, are we?” she asked, elbowing him in the ribs.

They went up and got in line. Colleen noted a number of teenagers in line going up in pairs, and did her best to hide a smile as she and Hunter got on likewise. “Ever been on one of these before?” she asked.

“Nope, but I saw a movie where one broke loose and pulverized half the carnival.” Hunter then realized this may not have been the smartest thing to say.

Colleen didn't seem bothered, though. She just got that wry smirk she always got when people talked about mass destruction. “My kind of ride,” she answered brightly. Then she noticed something off to Hunter's right. “Hey, look at that,” she said, pointing. In the process, she leaned toward it. Which, as it just so happened, meant leaning on Hunter slightly.

The wheel turned back and forth a few times as riders boarded, filling one seat at a time. They had to fill the seats in a certain pattern, or it would become too heavy on one side to bring the other down low. Finally, the actual ride began. It was no Sky Rover, but being that high up over the fairground with no cockpit over them or windshield in front of them was breathtaking. Both enjoyed the blissful sensation of the wind blowing in their faces.

Neither of them noticed a figure clad in a worn-out trenchcoat and hat behind them. Blitz, having gotten a disguise from somewhere, was still on their tails. He had seen Colleen leaning on Hunter, and his jealousy burned so hot that his hat began to smoke. As the wheel turned, so did the wheels in his mind, and a plot took shape. He rose cautiously to his feet, thinking to himself that a good jolt, like, say, an extra passenger landing in their seat, would spoil the mood for sure. When he thought they were at the right point, he jumped. He missed, hit the back, and fell to the ground below.

“What was that?” asked Colleen. They looked over the sides, which was about all the seatbelts allowed, but saw nothing.

Luckily for Blitz they hadn't been very high up when he jumped, but the landing was still unpleasant to say the least. As he rose dizzily to his feet, he could see little tiny ferris wheels rolling around his head. Unfortunately, there was something of more immediate... never mind, it was too late. He didn't see it coming, he didn't know what happened, all he knew was that his nose hurt worse than it had ever hurt in his life. The seat had struck again.

When they left the fair, the car was still in the shop. “I gave it the closest tires I had to what you were using before, but the distributor cap is taking a bit longer because the engine is so complicated. Probably gonna be another hour before I’m done,” explained the mechanic. “Although I could maybe cut that in half if you’re really in a hurry.”

Colleen noticed that the number of cars in the parking lot had tripled since that morning. “Looks like your business is picking up,” she observed.

The mechanic nodded. “Yeah, word of mouth in a small town, you know. People see a car like yours in here and the next thing you know, everybody’s coming to see it.”

As Colleen opened the car to put in a stuffed animal Hunter had won her at one of the games, the mechanic grinned. “Been to the carnival, huh?” he asked.

“Heh, you want a blast, they're having fireworks tonight 'bout an hour after sunset. If you're not in a hurry, you ought to enjoy that.”

“My friend runs a boat rental down at the lake,” the mechanic added. “ You can get a really nice view from out on the water. If you tell him Larry sent you, he'll give you a good deal.”

The two of them watched the sunset from the middle of the lake. A mix of deep orange, soft yellow, and rich, luxurious purple draped the western sky like an ornate robe. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Colleen.

They sat and watched as the sky grew dark and the stars came out, although they were somewhat diminished by the ongoing lights of the fair. “How much longer?” asked Colleen after a long silence.

Hunter looked at his watch. “I'd say about fifteen minutes,” he replied, wondering if she could tell in the dark that he'd been watching her face. Not that he could see much either, but it seemed to make sense anyway.

FWEEEEe... BOOM! A streak of light rocketed into the sky, exploding into a blinding burst of green. Both of them jumped. Had it been fifteen minutes already?

More fireworks followed. One resembled a gold willow tree, the next a ball of white specs which in turn blew apart into smaller ones. One firework burst into in a dazzling display of bright crimson, deep cerulean, and sparkling alabaster. Burst after burst after burst, until it was impossible to keep track of them all, impossible to do anything but sit there and watch.

Blitz, meanwhile, was hiding in the back of the boat under a tarp. All he could see under the plank seat were Hunter and Colleen’s feet, but he had all kinds of guesses what he was missing out on. This doesn’t look too good, he thought. He spotted a rubber band by Hunter’s foot, and an idea hit him. Maybe a snap on the ankles would make Hunter jump out of the boat. If that didn’t spoil the mood, nothing would. He looped the rubber band over the tip of his thumb and pulled back the other end. Ready, aim…

The band snapped, flinging both broken ends back and smacking him right in the nose. Blitz had to clap both hands over his mouth to stop himself from yelping.

Blitz stifled a growl of frustration and decided on a more direct approach. He extended one of his claws just enough to hurt, and jabbed a heel. With a startled yell, Colleen leapt clear out of the boat_and into the lake.

Colleen came up_sputtering. “Blimey!” she complained. “This water’s cold!”

Hunter_looked under the seat, but Blitz had already retreated out of sight. “I don’t see anything.” He held out a hand to Colleen. “Here, grab my hand and I’ll pull you in.”

“Thanks, Huntie-Wuntie,” chattered Colleen, grasping his hand by the wrist as he did the same to hers. But then as he tried to help her get back in, he slipped in some water that her splash had sent into the boat.

“WHOA!” he yelled as he lost his balance and fell into the water as well, landing right on top of Colleen.

When they came up, Colleen was about as happy as a cat in the_hands of a_baptism-bent five-year-old. “Was that trip really necessary?” she asked.

“Nah, I just like to travel a lot.” Hunter was shivering. “Man, you were right. This water’s freezing!” He dove under the boat and came up on the other side. “Let’s get back in before we turninto popsicles,” he called.

“One, two, three!” They heaved themselves back into the boat. “Well, that was fun,” he remarked sarcastically. He noticed Colleen shivering. “Let me see if there are_any towels on the boat.” After some digging in the back, he located only a single beach towel. “Here,” he said,_handing it to Colleen.

Hunter sat down at the oars and started rowing back as fireworks continued to blaze overhead. So much for the boat ride, he thought.

The manager seemed surprised when they came back soaking wet, and Colleen with the towel draped over her shoulders like a cape, but chose not to ask. All he said, aside from thanking them for coming, was, “You_can keep the towel, Miss.”

As they walked back to the mechanic, Hunter suddenly stopped. Okay, enough puppyfooting, he decided. “Colleen?” he asked.

Hunter shuffled his feet, having a hard time looking at her. When he did, he saw her brown-and- white face glowing in the light of the last fireworks, with an ever-changing hue that was almost hypnotic. “There’s something we need to talk about. You know how conveniently everyone else couldn’t come along?”

Colleen nodded, and if Hunter hadn’t been feeling slightly timid, he might or might not have realized that some of the moisture on her forehead was sweat, not water. “What about it?” she asked, wondering if he knew what she was thinking. What she'd been up to.

“Well,” Hunter admitted, “I’ve been kinda hoping we could take a day off_with just the two of us for a long time now, but I couldn’t work up the courage to ask you. So I paid Shag and Exile five bucks each to_kinda set us up.”

Hunter looked at his feet. “Well, maybe it was kind of sneaky for me to do that,” he admitted.

Colleen’s expression went from angry to confused. “What do you mean? I was talking about what they did.”

Hunter’s eyes widened, and then in spite of himself he started laughing. Colleen stared at him for a moment and then she started laughing too. When they stopped, both of them were grinning from ear to ear. Then Hunter_shivered a little. “Come on,” he chattered. “Let’s hurry up.”

“You know,” suggested Colleen, holding one side of the_towel open, “this is a pretty big towel if_you want to warm up.”

Hunter gratefully_draped the offered half of the towel around himself. “Thanks,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Well, maybe going somewhere again next Saturday could make us even,” suggested Colleen as her head started to drift toward his shoulder.

The mechanic raised an eyebrow as the two walked in, still wrapped up in the towel. “The lake’s a little cold for swimming, you know,” he told them. “Maybe you should come back in July when it’s warmed up a bit.”

“Maybe we will,” said Hunter as he somewhat reluctantly_separated from Colleen. “So, is the car fixed?”

“All ready to go,” the man smiled back. “I even_changed the oil and refilled the windshield-washer fluid. No charge.”

“Hey, I figured it was the least I could do. Now that people know you’ve been here, I’ve got customers lined up clear to the end of the month!”

Hunter_grinned. “Glad to help out,” he said as he paid the mechanic for the tires and engine repairs. Then he and Colleen got in and drove away.

Exile and Shag were waiting when they got back. “So how did it go-ski?” asked Exile.

“Not bad,” replied Hunter. “Thanks for the hand.”“My pleasure,” grinned Exile.

Colleen smiled. “You can keep the extra money, by the way,” she told them. “It was_worth it.”

“Goodnight, gents.” Colleen gave Hunter a quick kiss on the cheek, then headed for the transdogmafier. “Too bad I won’t be able to tell my owners about this,” she added.

After Colleen had taken the chute home, Shag grinned. “Rah ruh reffuh reah?” he asked.

“Well, we did talk about next Saturday,” Hunter replied, turning slightly pink.

Just then Blitz dashed through, sagging and gasping for breath. “If anyone asks, I was never here,” he told them.

“Hey you!” came an angry voice behind. A voice that did a remarkable job of sounding like one Reginald “Bulldog” McKowsky. “Get back here!”

Blitz uttered a chicken-like scream and ran for his life, the maddened cop hot on his heels.

“I don't know,” smirked Exile before he too took off at a dead run. “But I don't want to be missing it!”

Special thanks to Pikayu, JerseyCaptain, diego_rules, Alpha Aleu, iwolfie 231, Conay, UK - Ban Cat, and winklebella for their input.