Free Totally Buzzed (A Miller Sisters Mystery) by Gale Borger Page B

up!" I once again thanked my lucky stars I had talked the ex-husband into not putting a rail around the front porch. Had he done so, I would have crashed through it multiple times by now, and would have lain impaled and bleeding on the front lawn. As it was, I went ass over teakettle into the half dead impatiens at the base of the stairs. Good thing I left an old beanbag chair on the porch for the dogs–it cushioned the blow. While I dodged Wesley and his foot-long slimy tongue, I thought, where the heck is Hillary?
    "Wes? Where's Hillary?" He sat up, looked west, east, and then up, grinning and waving his long black tail.
    I laughed, rolled the three-year-old Newfoundland off me, and called for Hillary while I picked up my scattered notes. Wes decided it was playtime and helped me by proceeding to chew on my notebook. By the time I finished wrestling my book out of his gaping maw and wiping the doggie slobber off the cover onto my jeans, Hillary made her appearance.
    She looked shyly around the doorjamb. I was struck as always by her quiet beauty and giving nature. She was a humane society acquisition, and at the time I got her, she rescued me more than I had rescued her.
    Coming off an ugly divorce from an abusive alcoholic, I was scared and lonely, and decided I wanted a big, bad, killer watchdog. I went to the local animal shelter, thinking Doberman, Rottweiler, or Pit Bull, and came away with a quiet, female Bulldog who looked as damaged as I felt.
    We healed together. I provided Hillary with a home and a purpose, and she provided me with unconditional love and undying loyalty. She used to go with me when I was still a full time investigator, and pulled my ass out of the fire on more than one occasion.
    One time we were at a kennel a couple hours away and Hillary met up with the bad guy I had been chasing. She was badly wounded in the incident and I couldn't move her after surgery. I ended up leaving her at the kennel for a week to recuperate. When I came to pick her up, she was sleeping in a box with what appeared to be a little stuffed bear.
    The bear lifted his head and I realized it was a Newfoundland puppy. The owners told me that her first night there, Hillary was whimpering in pain and loneliness. When they got up to check on her later, she was quiet and sleeping contently with the orphaned Newfie puppy. He was very gentle around her, so they just left him there. When I tried to leave with her, she began whimpering pathetically. After some discussion with the owners of the kennel, it was decided I would bring the Newfie home for a couple of weeks, so Hillary would have someone around while she was healing and I was at work. I fell in love with him just as quickly as Hillary did. Two weeks turned into four, and four turned into 'four-ever'. Wesley has now been a vital part of our family for over three years.
    Hillary would not come out onto the porch. I knew she stayed back and gave me the injured look because Wesley had been naughty. She took all responsibility for his delinquent ways and he went blissfully through life wagging that long fluffy tail and grinning from ear to ear.
    "Okay, Hill, what did he do this time?" She turned on cue and calmly walked into the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder to make sure I followed, and gave me the wounded look. Hands on hips, I examined the scene in front of me. The loaf of bread I had left on the counter that morning was nothing more than a few crumbs in plastic on the floor. The butter was completely missing, and the strawberry jelly jar I had thrown away was spotlessly clean and on its side next to the garbage can.
    "Weeesley? Did you have a butter and jelly sandwich today?"
    Grin, wag, grin. He let out a big sneeze–it was his only trick.
    "You menace. That will not earn you points. Go outside and poop me a butter wrapper, would you?"
    Grin, wag, grin. Jumping to his feet, the tail going 90 miles a minute, he danced to the back door, ready and willing to do as I