I don't own Knight Rider or any of its characters. Last I checked, they were property of Universal.

This story is rated PG-13 for scenes depicting cruelty to animals.

Thank you Tomy. You are a fabulous beta reader and a great friend.

This story is dedicated to Peggy Sue, the gray cat who didn't get a name, and all of the wonderful animals who end up at shelters.


Sheltered Knight

The two pit bulls were snarling on the ends of their chains. One, a brown brindle dog, had scars running along its flank. The other, a larger black and white spotted pit, was snapping and trying to pull away from its handler. A hardened boy of about 15 was having a difficult time controlling the brown dog. Like the animal he was holding, the boy had a scar on his face and his clothes were old and ripped. He angrily jerked on his dog's chain, frustrated by its attempts get away from him.

They were in the basement of a burned out, brick apartment building surrounded by a crowd of about thirty people, including several young children. Many of the adults looked downtrodden and drunk, but the ramshackle room was infused with a dubious excitement. Many of the men in the group were placing bets after sizing up the two dogs, yelling out amounts in loud voices that mingled with the barking and the overwhelming din from the crowd. The basement's small, high windows were steamed up and the only light available was from a bare bulb hanging over a set of wooden stairs.

The crowd parted to create a circular opening in the middle of the room. The two handlers led their dogs into the center of the mass of people and took off the chains, holding the snarling animals by the prong collars around their necks. The fifteen year old tried to stare down the older and much more muscular handler of the black and white dog, but he ended up looking like a scared kid. An on-looker signaled the two and they slammed the pit bulls together and quickly backed away from the angry, provoked animals. The two dogs ripped into each other, growling and snapping. As the black and white pit lunged, its teeth ripped open a gash on the other dog's face, spraying both creatures with blood. People in the crowd yelled loudly, cheering the brutal attack. The black and white pit lunged forward again and the two dogs tussled on the floor. Those in the crowd who had betted on the black and white dog let out gleeful hollers. The brown pit was clearly losing and as the dogs rolled toward the fifteen year old boy, he cursed at his dog and kicked it in the head.

"Better luck next time, kid," the other handler sneered, gloating as his dog tore another flap of skin from the ill-fated brown pit's flank.


* * *

"Come on, buddy, I think it would be fun," Michael Knight said, as he glanced down at a postcard on the passenger's seat.

"Michael, we've discussed this. Not only would we be flaunting all sorts of local laws, but it would be very undignified," Kitt said, his voice module fluctuating in time to his words.

"Since when do you have issues with flaunting locals laws? We do it all the time," Michael said, smiling down at the red bars that served as his partner's face.

"But these would be national landmarks."

"All the more reason to do it. First, we get a picture of you turbo boosting through the Arch in St. Louis. Then we start a whole travelogue -- you turbo boosting across the Mississippi headwaters, the Hoover Dam, the mall in DC. I mean, just think of the possibilities. There's even Wall Drugs, huh, buddy?" Michael couldn't keep a straight face. Just the idea itself was hilarious.

"Absolutely not. Michael, sometimes I wonder about you. What would Bonnie say? Not to mention . . ." Kitt paused. "On second thought, I've changed my mind. I think it would be very handy to have photographic evidence of you abusing my systems."

"Abusing your systems? You were designed to turbo boost. How is that abuse?"

"Turbo boosting without cause is unnecessary wear and tear on my systems."

"Kitt, that's like saying that running is unnecessary wear and tear on my systems. It's good exercise. Just think of all those circuits that are going unused if you don't turbo boost on a regular basis. Think of all the dust, grease, and crud that are collecting on them. It's hardening your arteries. In fact, your turbo boost muscles are probably atrophying as we speak. I think one turbo boost a day would be good for you."

"Michael, I am not even going to dignify that with a response. I am NOT atrophying."

Michael smiled as a familiar tone sounded. "Devon's calling," Kitt said. "Maybe we should discuss your idea with him."

Michael punched the appropriate buttons and ignored Kitt's jibe as Devon's image appeared on the video screen. He was sitting in his desk at the Foundation for Law and Government's headquarters.

"Ah, Michael. The authorities called and it seems that everything is in order in the Gulling case."

"That's good to hear, Devon. I figured once we caught them in the act of exchanging glass cuts for wholesale gems, it wouldn't be too hard to get a case put together."

"Quite, right, Michael. I also have some news for you on one of our previous cases."

"I'm listening," Michael said.

"You do remember Derrick Kohl, I assume?"

"The drug kingpin, how could I forget? The one that got away."

"We have a possible new angle on the case."

"How? The judge threw it out. You can't try him twice."

"Of course not, Michael. That's why I'd like you to look into his dog fighting activities."

"What?" Michael asked, looking at the screen, a bit confused.

"Apparently Mr. Kohl has been heavily involved in the local Los Angeles dog fighting scene. It's a class D felony, so it's a possible avenue to bring down his empire."

"Devon, the man smuggles truckloads of cocaine and heroin into the country every day, has money laundering and organized crime ties, and you want me to go after him for dog fighting?"

"We've tried to bring down his drug smuggling operations, Michael, but he's too careful. He's given everyone the slip too many times. We're hoping he's not as cautious when it comes to his hobbies."

"But Devon. He's a murderer and all around nasty. It just seems like a waste of time to after him for dog fighting."

"Maybe so, but Al Capone was brought down for income tax evasion. If we can get to him and have some of his dogs seized, we might just find some of his other merchandise. Besides, there's a very persistent woman at the Pacific Shore Animal Shelter who has been asking for our help. This kills two birds with one stone."

"Fine, Devon, but I really think there are better ways to go after him."

"Your concerns are duly noted, my boy. Your contact's name at the shelter is Alex Keln. I'll have Bonnie send you the information."

"Thanks, Devon. We'll let you know if we find anything interesting as soon as we get in."

* * *

The Pacific Shore Animal Shelter was nowhere near the shore. It was located in an industrial park on the outskirts of LA. The small, brown brick building looked out of place on a busy street next to a waste management facility and a warehouse. If it weren't for the sign and the people walking dogs out front, it would be easy to overlook. Michael and Kitt pulled into the parking lot that wrapped around the back of the building.

"Michael, don't leave me here. They're walking dogs," Kitt said, distressed.

"So?"

"I don't want one of them to mistake me for a fire hydrant."

Michael laughed and got out of the car. Looking for the main entrance, he strolled past a little garden and picnic table that were nestled against the building. A woman in her early thirties, walking a brown and white shorthaired dog, intercepted him. The dog was strained against its leash, its tail wagging and eyes bright. The woman stopped so that Michael was just out of the dog's reach.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Her voice was gruff and she didn't sound like she wanted to help him at all. Despite having more than a foot on her, Michael found her demeanor to be a bit intimidating.

"Yes. I'm looking for Alex Keln."

"And you are?"

"Michael Knight from the Foundation for Law and Government."

The woman studied him carefully for a moment. "I'm Alex."

Michael had been expecting someone older and more businesslike. The woman in front of him had short, closely cropped, blond hair, and she was wearing a bleach-stained shirt with muddy jeans. Although she was small, she was muscular and she didn't have a problem keeping the 60-pound dog in check.

"Devon Miles said you've been asking for our help?" The dog strained against its chain, eager to make friends. Michael bent down and extended his hand for the dog to smell. It sniffed and then pushed its nose up under his hand to be pet.

Alex eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah. He also said that you were too busy to get involved. Nice of you to take an interest," she said sarcastically.

"To be honest, this isn't the sort of case we normal take. We normally work with . . ."

"People. Yes, I understand. Mr. Miles explained." Alex turned and pulled the dog with her towards the building.

Michael was caught off-guard. He wasn't sure at first if he was supposed to follow her into the building or not. He looked back in Kitt's direction, giving him a questioning shrug. Kitt didn't reply so he followed the woman toward the shelter. Alex had stopped and was holding the door for him so he quickened his pace. As he entered the building, he was immediately struck by the smell of animal. It wasn't offensively strong, but it was unmistakable.

"Why don't you wait here? I'll put Peggy back in her cage and then we can talk." She disappeared back into the bowels of the shelter, leaving Michael to listen to the dogs bark. He looked around the lobby and noted the Humane Society posters on the walls and a bulletin board showing the shelter's dogs and cats. The place was a little run down and small, but it seemed well taken care of. He smiled as another volunteer walked past him with a large rottweiler.

Alex joined Michael in the lobby again, without the dog. She took a seat on the bench across from him.

"According to Devon, you've been having trouble with dog fighting recently."

"It's not recent. It's just gotten a lot worse lately. We've seen double the number of injured fighting dogs coming through here and we're getting a lot more people coming in looking for fighters. Then we had a break in two weeks ago."

"Devon told me they got away with six of your dogs?"

"Yes, they took all the pit bulls." Alex looked through the glass in the lobby door and stared at the busy street outside. She turned back to face Michael. "Look, I know you're only interested in this because some drug dealer might be involved." When Michael looked surprised, she laughed wryly. "I thought it was suspicious that after begging for your help and being turned away, you were suddenly pounding down our door, offering assistance in exchange for information on one of our potential adopters. I looked him up and found out that he beat a drug smuggling rap. I assume that's why you're here."

Michael was a little embarrassed, but he admired the woman's thoroughness. "Yes. We've got information that Derrick Kohl has been active in dog fighting and we thought that might be a good way of bringing him down. He's caused a lot of people a lot of pain and we're looking for any angle we can find to put him out of business."

"Right. Well, if he is into dog fighting, then we'd like to see you accomplish that. And it could bring attention to our cause, if he gets tried for it."

"So tell me about dog fighting in LA," Michael asked.

"Same as any other urban area. They get dogs, mostly pit bulls and a few other breeds, as puppies. Then they beat, abuse, starve, and torture them while they grow up so they're mean. Then they fight them. The people involved take bets on which animal will win. Both dogs are typically injured and often one of the dogs dies in the fight. If not, then the losing dog is usually killed or left to die a slow death due to its injuries. The fights are mostly staged in condemned warehouses in burnt out parts of the city. They're transient so they're hard to track. The animals are kept in filthy, horrible conditions and some of them double as guard dogs for their owners' drug stashes."

"And what do the local police do about it?"

"It's a felony so they should be prosecuting, but the cops don't have the resources," Alex said with a hint of bitterness.

Michael shook his head, understanding the dilemma. "I'm here to help, but what is it exactly you'd like me to do?"

"Since the break in, we installed a new security system, which has gone off twice this week. The wardens think there's a ring of people stealing dogs to be sold as fighters, and they seem to have targeted us. I don't want any more of our dogs to end up as cannon fodder. If you can catch them, maybe we'll have a little peace for a while."

"I assume you'd also like me to look for the dogs that were taken from you?"

"In theory. But I don't think anyone's going to find them alive at this point." Alex's voice was neutral, but she had a far off look on her face.

"Okay, I'll see if I can get any info on who these guys might be and I'll plan on staking out the shelter at night to see who shows up." Michael pulled a photograph out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Alex. "In the meantime, this is Kohl. You might want to have your people keep an eye out for him. And I'd like to talk to anyone who spoke with him."

Alex took the picture and gave it a once over. "I don't remember seeing him, but I don't work with the public much and I don't do adoptions." She looked up at Michael with a wry half smile. "I tend to be a little, off-putting." She disappeared into the office and returned holding a piece of paper. "This is the application he filled out." She handed over the form. "I asked, Megan, the volunteer who signed it if she remembered anything unusual about him. Apparently he was fairly normal, other than specifically wanting a pit bull. She'll be in tomorrow if you need to talk to her."

"Thanks. I've got some things to check on, but I'll be back after dark. Will anyone be here?"

"I'll be here until eight, pretty much every night."

Michael turned and started to head out of the lobby.

"Michael, they may not be human, but humans domesticated them and made them pets. We're responsible for what happens to them. And we owe them so much more than this."

Michael nodded and pushed open the door to leave the shelter.

* * *

"Well, the address he gave is of one of his apartments downtown, Michael. I'm not sure why he wouldn't have just given one of his aliases to begin with," Kitt said, going over the information on Kohl's application. They were on their way back to the Foundation so that Michael could get a hot shower and Kitt could get caught up on some routine maintenance.

"You're right, buddy. It doesn't make a lot of sense. Why did he even go there himself? Why didn't he send one of his minions to go pick out a dog for him?"

"Maybe he takes his dogs seriously?" Kitt suggested. "He did also list the names of several dogs on his application as other pets. Maybe he likes to think he's a legitimate dog owner?"

"Or maybe he was looking for something? Maybe he was casing out the place to plan the break-in?"

"That doesn't make sense either, Michael. He has people working for him who do that sort of thing all the time."

Michael thought for a minute. "Maybe he had a dog stolen from him and he's trying to find it?"

"That would be a possibility," Kitt said.

"Tap into the records of local shelters and police departments. See if anyone reported a lost pit bull in Kohl's neighborhood."

"I'll try, but they may not have bothered to write a formal report. Or if so, it might not be in their computers. It might take some time."

"That's ok. We don't really have much else to go on right now anyway."

They pulled up in the circular drive in front of FLAG headquarters and Michael popped the trunk to grab his duffel bag.

"I'm going to go unpack and try to track down Devon. I want to see if he has any more information about this case."

"Ok, Michael. I'll be in the garage. My systems are due for recalibration and I think some of my circuits are out of line."

"See, a little exercise would do you good, buddy."

Michael didn't wait for a reply as he entered the building, smiling. He bounded up the stairs to the suite he had on the second floor. The main room was nicely furnished, courtesy of the Foundation, and not in Devon's style, much to Michael's relief. The furniture was contemporary and the room had all the typical creature comforts - TV, VCR, stereo. He dropped his blue duffel bag on the floor next to the door, which he didn't even bother to kick closed behind him.
He tossed his jacket on a chair and collapsed onto the couch, about to click on the TV.

"So how was your meeting with Ms. Keln?" a voice behind him asked.

The couch was facing away from the open door so Michael leaned his head against the back of the couch and looked at the man behind him upside down. It wasn't really necessary because Devon's accent always gave him away, but Michael liked the dramatic picture of exhaustion it portrayed - too tired to even hold up his head.

"Devon, I've been back a whole two minutes. We were gone for three weeks, working day and night, slaving away to protect the innocent diamond buyers in St. Louis. Can I just have a couple of minutes of peace and quiet?"

Devon looked down at him disapprovingly. He wasn't unsympathetic to Michael's exhaustion, but he knew the younger man well enough to know when he was exaggerating for effect. "Of course, Michael, but first I'd like to hear about your meeting with Alex Keln. Kohl has been a blight on this community for far too many years, and the sooner we put him behind bars, the better."

Devon walked into the room, uninvited, and took a seat in a tan leather chair facing Michael.

"I don't even get weekends off. Isn't that illegal somehow?"

"You're compensated for your overtime, Michael. I agree that you and Kitt have been working longer hours than usual lately. I'll see what I can do about getting you some time off, but in the meantime, we do have this case."

Michael pulled himself upright instead of slouching on the couch, but didn't say anything.

"And Bonnie will probably need several hours to go through Kitt's systems, so you'll be able to get some peace and quiet, as you say."

Michael ran his fingers through his wavy hair. "There's not much to tell, Devon. Alex is not exactly the warm friendly type, but she seems committed to helping animals."

"Indeed, she's very committed and has done a commendable job. I took the liberty of researching the Pacific Shore Animal Shelter and it's really quite remarkable, Michael. They take in thousands of animals each year and manage to get most of them returned to their owners or placed with new families. And the remarkable thing is that Alex and the wardens are the only paid employees. The shelter is staffed almost entirely by volunteers."

"Interesting. You'd think that would be a hard way to keep things running."

"I'm sure it is. Imagine if you had to attend fundraisers and you weren't paid for it," Devon said with a knowing smile.

"The horror," Michael replied with a dramatic grimace.

"Despite my initial misgivings about taking this case, I'm beginning to see that it has more merit than I had originally given it credit for. They are a grass roots organization working against the endless problems of animal cruelty and overpopulation inside of a bureaucracy that doesn't have the resources available to help them. They're very much like the other people we've helped out in the past, Michael."

"Hopefully it will work out for everyone. Alex gave me a copy of the application that Kohl filled out when he tried to adopt a dog from them. He used his real name and a correct address. Kitt and I both thought that was a little strange."

"Hmm, yes, that does seem odd. I'll try to look into it -- see if there's another angle."

"Once Kitt's ready, we're going to stake out the shelter tonight and see if anyone shows up."

"I'll let you get some rest then," Devon said, taking his leave.

* * *

Michael wandered down to the garage after a couple of hours of dozing. He hadn't been able to fall asleep so he had passed the time in front of the TV in a half trance. It was getting late and he was hoping to get to the shelter before Alex left for the evening.

The garage was mostly dark when he entered it. There was a main lounge where the technicians normally hung out when they weren't actually working on Kitt. The lounge had a couch and a pair of ratty old chairs that were arranged around a small kitchen. Michael noticed that the coffee maker was in the process of brewing another pot. That was generally a bad sign. If Bonnie was on a second pot of coffee, then he probably wouldn't be able to take Kitt anytime soon.

Michael was moving slowly so that he wouldn't trip over anything in the dark. He entered Kitt's service bay and was relieved to see the florescent glow of the overhead lights bouncing off of Kitt's highly reflective black hood. Bonnie was sitting in the passenger seat with the door open. She was staring down at a readout on one of Kitt's monitors, cradling a mug in her hands.

Michael sidled up to the car. "Hi there," he said suddenly, causing Bonnie to jump. She recovered and checked to see if she had spilled any coffee before favoring Michael with a withering look.

"I think I liked it better when you were in St. Louis."

"Oh, you missed me, admit it."

A strange look passed over Bonnie's features and then she smiled. "Hello, stranger." She pulled herself out of the car and pushed a monitor back against the wall.

"So what's with the dark lounge?"

Bonnie shrugged as she continued putting tools away. "The others have gone home and it's a little too bright in here for my tastes with all the lights on."

Michael pretended to write himself a note on an imaginary pad of paper in his hand. "Doesn't like light," he 'wrote.' "How do you feel about garlic?"

"Now I know I liked it better when you were in St. Louis," she said.

"Kitt and I have a date tonight, any chance he'll be ready to go in the next half hour?"

"Sure. I'm pretty much done with him. I've got everything recalibrated."

Michael waited a beat. "What, no catalog of everything wrong with him? No admonishments for mistreating him?"

Bonnie laughed. "What would be the point? You don't listen to me anyway."

"That's not true. I listen to everything you say," Michael said, his voice dripping with manufactured innocence. "I just don't act on it."

"Oh and that's much better. Actually, there wasn't anything wrong with him this time. Just routine maintenance, really."

"Good. So, buddy, are you ready to roll? I want to talk to Alex before she goes home for the night and leaves us with a shelter full of animals."

"Of course, Michael."

"Great. Bye, Bonnie," Michael said as he climbed into the driver's seat and pushed the button to start Kitt's engine.

Bonnie opened the garage door for them. She leaned against the wall, still holding her coffee, and watched as Kitt's headlights flipped up. They left the lighted area of the garage and careened out into the night. Bonnie watched them until Kitt's taillights disappeared as he turned onto the main road, and then she pressed the button to lower the garage door again. Yes, I did miss you while you were in St. Louis, she thought.

* * *

"Surveillance mode, buddy," Michael said, as he parked Kitt in a dark corner of the shelter lot and headed to the front door. Other than a light off to the right side of the lobby, the shelter looked closed. He knocked on the door and was relieved to see Alex come over to open it for him.

"Hi. I was wondering if you could show me around a little bit so I have some idea of what they're after," Michael said as he entered the darkened building.

"Sure." Alex grabbed a set of keys that were lying on the office desk and led Michael back passed the lobby to a door next to a row of windows. Michael glanced in and saw that they were standing outside the kennel.

She opened the door, held it for Michael, and flipped on the lights, which caused the dogs to start barking immediately. Michael slowly surveyed the room. There were two rows of cages stretching the length of the outer walls and an island of back-to-back cages in the middle, creating a U shape. The cages themselves were about four feet high with the entrances made out of chain link fencing. For space, the dogs had about five feet front to back and four feet side to side, which held a water dish, a food dish, and a blanket.

Alex gestured to the left at a pair of doors. "Those are the visiting rooms. That's where we show people the dogs."

She started to lead Michael down the first row of cages. There were thirty in all and as they walked by, most of the dogs jumped at the front of the cages, barking and trying to get attention. Michael wondered how anyone could keep their sanity working there with the constant barking.

"Are they always this loud?"

"Actually it's not too bad right now. It gets worse when we have beagles or hounds. They really make a racket."

At the end of the row of cages was a door, which Alex unlocked. "This is the run. The dogs get taken out this way for their walks. It's got an alarm now, but this is how the thieves got in. They probably scaled the fence since there wasn't any damage to it."

Michael leaned out the door and studied the large, fenced-in enclosure. It was solid except for one gate on the far end and looked relatively well lit. "So the dogs get to spend time out here?"

"Yes. When the weather's nice, we bring them out here to play."

"Who has the keys to this door?"

"The wardens and all the shift supervisors."

She shut the door and rearmed the alarm through a keypad on the wall. Alex crossed the short aisle leading to the next row of cages. They walked back down the aisle passed a different set of dogs. There was a cute little tan dog who was wagging his tail and giving Michael his best puppy eyes. The next cage over was the brown and white dog that Alex had been walking when Michael arrived earlier in the day. Her back was mostly brown and her muscular legs and chest were white. Her bright eyes were smiling at Michael so he put his hand up to the pen.

"Ah, you don't want to go sticking your hands in the cages. Some of them don't like it," Alex said.

Michael pulled back. "Oh, sorry. Isn't this the dog that you were walking this afternoon?"

"Yes. Her name is Peggy Sue and you can pet her, but just don't go sticking your hand in any of the other cages." Alex was standing over Michael while he crouched in front of Peggy and offered his hand again. The front of the cage was separated into two halves with one side hinged to act as a door. The gap between the two halves was wide enough for Michael to slide his hand through and scratch Peggy's floppy ears.

"Hi there, girl. I bet you'd like to get out and play, huh?" Peggy Sue pushed her head against his hand, sniffing and licking it.

Michael pulled his hand out of the cage and wiped it on his jeans. "She's cute. What kind of dog is she?"

"Pit bull," Alex answered simply.

Michael stood up and quickly backed away from the cage. "Isn't, ah, I thought ..."

"Not all pits are aggressive, Michael. They were bred for toughness and strength and they're part terrier so they're tenacious." Alex sighed. This was obviously a conversation she'd had many times before. "Some of them are born with bad temperaments, certainly, but many are vicious because someone made them that way. Pits can be very sweet, smart, and energetic. Peggy's a doll and she wouldn't hurt you. Many of the volunteers here have adopted pit bulls after working with them and seeing how wonderful they can be."

"I thought you said that all of your pit bulls were stolen?" Michael asked.

"Peggy was at the vet that night, under observation for some heath problems. And Scout, the brown pit in the corner cage just came in a couple days ago. They come in all the time."

Michael took another look at Peggy. It was hard to imagine her attacking anyone.

Alex led Michael back to the kennel entrance and shut the lights off. The dogs continued to bark even as they walked away. They passed the lobby in the center of the building and continued on to the other side, entering another room that was large, but shallower than the kennel. It had a wall of 30 cages arranged in 3 rows. Most of the cages were occupied by cats. A few of them stretched or yawned when the light was turned on, but most of them continued to sleep, oblivious. There was a cage of three gray kittens who tottered to their feet and lined up against the bars of their cage, gawking at Michael with their large kitten eyes. Then one of the siblings pounced on another and they tussled and rolled around the cage.

"Hey, Noah, behave," Alex said lightly and gently tugged on the tail of the kitten who had pounced. "Quit beating up your sisters."

She turned to Michael. "As you can see, this is where we keep the cats. But no one's tried to steal them, yet."

Michael smiled as little Noah came to the front of the cage and meowed at him.

There was a walkway past the wall of cats leading to a room with a washer and dryer, a kitchen, and another door. "This is where the laundry and feeding are done. This door leads out to the back of shelter near the dumpsters. We often find animals in boxes out here because its dark and secluded, so I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to get in this way."

Michael noted the alarm keypad on the wall.

"That's pretty much it. We don't have a large shelter here," Alex said. They left the cat room and wandered back to the lobby.

"If you have a minute, I'd like to ask you a few questions. You said there were supervisors who have keys to the doors. Are they volunteers?" Michael asked.

"Yes."

"Are any of the supervisors new?"

"No. In order to be a supervisor, a volunteer has to have been with us for at least a year and I trust all of them. I know none of them are involved in this."

"Ok. Does the shelter, or do you, have any enemies?"

"Sure."

Michael was surprised by her nonchalant answer.

"We're pretty careful about who we adopt to which tends to ruffle some feathers. Some people leave here pretty angry with us when they don't get the pet they wanted."

"Have any of them ever threatened you?"

"I'm sure some of them have. Like I said, it's a pretty common occurrence. I just wouldn't necessarily remember them all. We keep a list of the really scary ones."

"Can I see it? I don't really have much to go on, so I'd like to start somewhere. How about disgruntled ex-volunteers? Has anyone left recently? Especially someone with keys?"

"Volunteers leave on a pretty regular basis too. It's hard work and some people just get burned out, but no one has left on bad terms in the last few months."

Something caught Michael's attention in the direction of the kennel. From where they were standing, he could see the darkened windows. He thought he had seen something move. He waited, but nothing happened.

"Do you have any information on where the dog fights typically take place?" he asked.

"No, but I could get that information from the wardens for you tomorrow. They usually get called in to help other officers break up the fights, so they should be able to point you in the right direction."

This time Michael was sure he saw something in the kennel. He was about to bring it to Alex's attention when two ears, two paws, and a nose pressed against the glass and barked.

"Ahh, are they supposed to do that?" Michael asked, confused.

Alex turned around and saw the dog in the window. Her shoulders slouched and she dropped her head, but she was laughing. "Oh, you little monster." Alex turned to Michael. "Do you mind giving me a hand? Peggy Sue can get out of her cage."

Michael followed Alex back into the kennel. Peggy came bounding up to the door, but she wasn't the only dog out. There were three other dogs running around the U-shaped aisle between the cages.

Alex tried to grab Peggy Sue's collar but she ducked out of reach, bounded a short distance away, and then stopped to wait, obviously playing.

Alex's face lit up in a smile. "Oooh. You little brat. Come here," she said, but she was laughing. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. "Come here, Peggy." The dog hesitated but then picked up her head and trotted over to claim the treat. Alex took hold of her collar and bent down in front of the dog, getting a slobbery kiss as a reward. "Peggy, we talked about this - no more parties!" Alex laughed as the dog cocked her head, one ear up and the other flopped over, like she was trying to understand. Alex looked at Michael. "She always plays dumb. Can you hand me one of the leashes on the wall there."

Michael picked out a leather leash from among several hanging on a rack. He handed it to Alex who quickly had Peggy Sue secured. Michael was amazed. This was the first time he had seen Alex crack a smile, much less laugh, and now she was talking baby talk to a dog. She certainly wasn't that friendly with him. Maybe that was why some single guys got dogs, he thought.

"Can you hold her please, while I corral the rest of them?" Alex handed Michael the leash and set about collecting the other dogs. The puppy that Michael had noticed earlier was one of the escapees and he was the next one to fall for the biscuit trick. Michael held onto Peggy's leash tightly. She twisted her head and gave him a mournful look so he reached down and scratched her behind her ears. Then she turned around and tried to jump up on him. Michael was glad he was tall; he really didn't want to get licked in the face.

When Alex got the other dogs into their cages, she came back to collect Peggy Sue. "She does this all the time. The latches on the cages are the kind that you push up on and then flip back. She figured out how to do that with her nose. She's like something straight out of a Disney movie. She gets out of her cage and then lets her friends out too. The volunteers are supposed to put an extra chain on her door so that she can't get it open, but someone must have forgotten it tonight."

Michael was still scratching Peggy's head. "I can't blame her, I'd want out too."

Alex took the leash and led poor Peggy back to her pen and made sure the chain was securely fastened. "Michael, thanks for helping me out. And thanks for spotting them. It's a real nightmare when they've been out all night. They leave a nice little mess for the volunteers to clean up in the morning," Alex said smiling. The warmth in her voice surprised Michael. She had either warmed up to him or maybe she was just still laughing at her dog's antics.

"You're welcome. She's quite a cutie."

"Whoever adopts her is going to have their hands full," Alex said, contemplating Peggy's cage door. "I have some paperwork to do. You're welcomed to stay here until I finish."

"That's okay. I think I'll start my watch now. My car is in the parking lot, behind the building so hopefully I won't be too conspicuous."

Alex unlocked the lobby door to let him out and Michael walked back to Kitt with a smile on his face.

* * *

The night of guard duty had passed uneventfully. Michael had taken a brief nap while Kitt continued to scan the area. Nothing suspicious. They hung around in the morning so that Michael could talk to Megan, the volunteer who had spoken with Kohl.

Before the shelter opened, Michael spotted a pretty brunette with curly hair entering the back door with a set of keys. He guessed she was Megan. After giving her a few minutes to get settled, he went to the front door and knocked.

Megan glanced up through the window at Michael. "I'm sorry, we aren't open for another half an hour," she said through the glass.

Michael shook his head. "I'm not here to adopt. My name's Michael Knight. I'm investigating the dog thefts. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh right, right, right" she said shaking her head and grabbing the keys to unlock the door. "I'm sorry, Alex said you'd be stopping by, but I completely forgot. Sometimes I'm a real scatterbrain. What would you like to know?" she asked, ushering him inside.

"You worked with a man named Derrick Kohl. Was there anything unusual you remember about him? Anything odd that he might have said or done?"

"Right. Alex asked me about him a couple of days ago." She rustled through her bag and pulled out a spiral bound notebook. "Sorry, I have to jog my memory sometimes. There are so many people who come through here so I try to take notes."

"That's okay. I understand completely." Michael was amazed by the contrast between her and Alex. She was very personable and friendly.

Megan looked down at her notebook. "Um, I think the only thing about him was that he was well dressed and very articulate and he was looking for a pit bull. Usually when people ask for them outright we tend to be a bit suspicious."

"Did you spend much time with him?"

"Kind of. We went over his application, talked about the dogs he has, and I took him through the kennel."

"What did he say about his dogs?"

"Oh, he just talked about having a couple of pit bulls already and how smart and eager they are. He seemed like a good owner, or at least, he knew the right answers to all the questions. We get both kinds in here. I can't tell you how many times I've been lied to since I started doing adoptions."

"Really?" Michael asked. It didn't seem like a place where people would bother lying.

"Oh yeah. They tell us their landlords allow pets when they don't, or that they own their home when they rent, or that they don't have any other pets at home or that they don't have children when they do. The list goes on and on. It makes it difficult to place the right animal with them, if they should have a pet at all. We keep begging Alex to get us a lie detector machine, but she won't do it." Megan stopped herself and smiled. "Sorry, just one of those things you shouldn't get me started on."

"That's okay," Michael smiled back. "Being a private investigator, I get lied to a lot in my line of work too."

"I bet," she laughed looking up from her notes.

"So, did he express an interest in any of the dogs?"

Megan shook her head and her curly hair bounced with it. "No, actually, he took some time looking through the kennel but said that none of the dogs seemed to be what he was looking for. I told him he was welcomed to come back but I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"Okay. New question. Do you know anyone who might have had an issue with the shelter? Someone who might have done something like this?"

Megan thought for a minute. "No. Honestly, I don't think so. It's been a while since we've had anyone crazy come in here."

"How about volunteers?"

"No, I can't think of anyone who left on really bad terms. There are plenty of people who don't get along, but there's enough space around here that you don't really have to deal with someone you don't like."

"Okay, thanks." Michael pulled out a card and handed it to her. "If you think of anything else, let me know."

"Sure," she said.

"One more thing, what time does the warden get here?"

"Oh, he should be here any minute. You're welcomed to wait here, but I have a lot of paperwork to get through before we open," Megan said and pulled out a binder to leaf through it.

"Thanks, but I'll leave you to your work," Michael said, deciding to keep Kitt company outside while he waited for the warden.

* * *

"Shall we take the scenic tour of the city?" Michael asked, glancing over the list of popular dog fighting areas as they sped down a busy street. The warden had been more than happy to give him the information. He had seemed relieved that there was someone else willing to investigate.

"Michael, none of the neighborhoods mentioned here are much to look at."

They continued on for several blocks, watching as the small single family houses became more and more run down and the streets slowly filled with garbage. Several of the storefronts had boarded up windows and faded signs.

"Michael, the first place mentioned on the list is just up ahead," Kitt said, highlighting a small alley on the map he had displayed on his monitor.

Kitt pulled up along side an abandoned building with a small door opening into the alley between a row of dumpsters. "Michael, according to my scanners, the lock on the door to this building has been broken. And there appears to be an injured animal inside."

"Any idea how badly it's hurt?"

"It's hard to tell since my medical database doesn't contain much information on animals, but it's lost a lot of blood and its vital signs seem elevated."

"Gotcha. I'm going to check it out."

Michael cautiously made his way down a short set of stairs to an aluminum door. It had been badly dented and the lock was obviously smashed. He slowly pushed it in, wary of an attack. The dark, cavernous room was probably used as a storage facility. There were piles of garbage, old tires, and two-by-fours scattered around. Michael picked up a heavy piece of wood, knowing that an injured animal that was used to fighting wasn't something to mess around with.

"Kitt, where is it?"

"In the back of the room, under a table."

Great, Michael thought. He slowly made his way around a stack of old newspapers, bending at the knees, ready to swing his weapon. There was a dirty window in the corner of the room, allowing in a small amount of dingy light. He spotted an old folding table and underneath it he saw a brown and black brindle dog lying on its side, in a pool of its own blood. The dog looked to be about 50 pounds and had the same body type as Peggy Sue. There was quite a bit of dried blood on the dirty floor between him and the dog. Obviously they had just left the dog after a fight.

Michael slowly crossed the open space between him and the animal. He stopped when the dog started to sniff the air and lifted its head a slight distance above the floor. Michael froze, not sure what to expect. The dog whimpered and turned to look his direction, it's stump of a tail moving slowly back and forth in a pathetic wag. Michael crept into the dog's field of view, anxious for the first growl or sign of aggression. Then he saw the nasty cuts around the dog's face. There was a large section of skin torn away at its flank and there were obvious bite marks around the dog's head. It was missing one ear and from what he could see, the other ear had been cropped short anyway. The dog looked up with sad, shiny eyes and whimpered again.

Michael closed the distance to the dog and stood just out of its reach. He waited, still expecting the dog to charge at him. When it didn't move and continued to look at him with its giant brown eyes, he bent down and gingerly held out one hand, the other holding the 2x4 ready. The dog sniffed and then leaned forward and started to lick Michael's hand. He heart sank as he watched the miserable dog poked its nose under his hand to be pet. Michael felt his bile and anger rising. Who would do this to such a nice dog? How could a dog stay this nice when it had obviously been so horribly mistreated? The dog attempted to get up, but couldn't, so it tried to crawl forward with its front paws, dragging its hind legs behind it.

Michael got up and hurried out to grab a blanket he always kept in Kitt's trunk. He went back to the dog and gingerly wrapped it in the blanket before picking it up to carry it back to Kitt.

"Buddy, can you tell me anything more about its condition?"

"Its heart is still beating at what is probably a fast rate, its breathing is labored, and its skull is cracked. Oh and the dog is female, Michael."

Kitt didn't even protest when Michael carefully set the dog down in his front seat. He put the car in gear and they headed back to the shelter as fast as they could.

* * *

Alex was surprised to see Michael back already. She opened the front door for him and examined the bundle he was carrying.

"We found her in an abandoned warehouse. She's obviously been in a fight, but she's not mean or aggressive at all. But she is badly hurt," Michael explained.

Alex took a look at the dog. Her face was a mask. "Congratulations, you found yourself a bait dog," she said without much emotion before turning on her heals and heading into the office. She picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. "Hey Rose, it's Alex. I'm bringing in a badly wounded pit bull." She paused. "I'll be right over."


Alex came back out, "Can you help me bring her to the vet?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll drive," he said.

They headed out to Kitt and Alex paused. "You'll probably get your upholstery bloody, we should take my car."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Michael replied. Alex opened the passenger door and sat down so that Michael could carefully set the dog on her lap. It had started whimpering again. Alex gently pulled back the blanket and carefully stroked the dog's nose. She noticed the puncture wounds around the head and frowned. "You're not looking so good, sweetheart," she said softly.

Alex glanced up and Kitt's dash briefly caught her attention, but she didn't say anything. She was focused on the dog in her arms. Michael peeled out of the parking lot and followed Alex's directions to the vet clinic.

"So what did you mean when you said this was a bait dog?" Michael asked.

"Not all pits will fight. Some of them are too good-natured, which is of course considered a character flaw by the people who do this. They use these dogs as bait to train the aggressive ones to attack. That way their good fighters learn without getting hurt and they get rid of their 'problem' dogs," she said, still stroking the dog's nose. "Poor sweetie," she said to the pit bull.

Michael was angry at the thought of people purposely injuring this dog. They pulled into the lot at the clinic and he jumped out to help Alex. She didn't even notice Kitt park himself; she was concentrating on the dog. They stepped into the lobby and waited at the end of a line of people to talk to the receptionist. There was a woman in front of them going on about her toy poodles. For some reason, Michael had expected everything to stop when they blew into the lobby. He thought that all eyes would be on this dog and how to help her. Finally a young-looking woman in scrubs came up to them and said hi to Alex.

"Hi Izumi. I don't know about this one," Alex said as Izumi peeked inside the blanket. She motioned for them to follow her past a swinging gate, through the back rooms, to an open exam area. One of the vets came over as Michael set the dog down on a table. The vet was a tall man with a receding hairline and a calm demeanor. He carefully unwrapped the blanket around the dog, listened to her heartbeat and breathing, carefully massaged her skull, and poked at the flap of torn skin on her side. Again, Michael expected a flurry of frenzied activity, but the vet was going about his business slowly and methodically. The dog whimpered a few times as he touched the sensitive areas, but she made no attempt to lash out.

The vet looked up. "Well, Alex, she's got a crushed skull. It's broken in at least three places. She's also lost a lot of blood. It looks like her lung might be punctured and as you can see, there are plenty of other wounds." He paused. "I think it would be best if we euthanize."

Alex nodded. "Go ahead."

Michael swallowed hard. He wanted to protest, to say that the Foundation could pay for the dog's vet bills, but he could tell by the look on her face that Alex had made up her mind. And she and the vet were the experts. Izumi came over and shaved a spot on the dog's right front leg. The vet filled a syringe with an amber liquid. Alex stroked the dog's nose again and Michael decided impulsively to put his hand over the dog's other paw. The vet gently stuck the syringe into the dog's leg and pushed the plunger. In seconds the dog's big brown eyes became fixed. Michael gave the paw a quick squeeze.

"So did you have a name for this one?" the vet asked Alex as he pulled out a clipboard and started writing a description of the dog.

"No, she just came in. Put her down as 'stray pit,'" Alex said and took the clipboard from him to sign the release.

* * *

Michael and Alex walked out to the parking lot in silence. Michael opened the passenger door for her before getting in himself. Alex looked around, confused. "How did you end up parked over here? I thought you just stopped by the door."

Michael had been thinking about the dog and had forgotten that Alex and Kitt hadn't been introduced. "I did stop by the door. Alex, meet my partner, Kitt. He's the one who parked the car."

"What?" Alex asked, looking at Michael like he was nuts, obviously not seeing anyone.

"Hello, Alex," Kitt said.

Alex's eyes went wide as she spotted the fluctuating red bars that went with Kitt's voice. "Who are you? Where are you?"

"I'm an artificial intelligence, housed in this car," Kitt replied, matter-of-factly.

"Okay," she said slowly and hesitantly, watching the voice modulator, "How is it that you talk? Or drive, for that matter?"

"It's a bit complicated, but basically, I can interact with you through a group of sensors located in the dash and throughout the rest of the vehicle. I also have control of the car's basic functions, which allows me to drive."

Alex looked a little shocked, but she seemed to more or less accept the fact. "Interesting. Do you like being in a car?"

There was a pause before Kitt answered. Michael was a bit surprised by the question himself. "It's all I've really known, Alex. I enjoy the freedom and mobility it provides. I prefer it to being in a stationary computer. Why do you ask?"

"Sorry. Just curious. I know most of my dogs don't like being in cages. I'm just wondering how you felt about being in a car."

"The car is more akin to a body, Alex, not a cage. It doesn't prevent me from moving since I do have control over it, and I certainly don't seem myself as trapped. I'm quite happy with my body, actually" Kitt said proudly.

"Sorry. I just misinterpreted, I guess."

Michael glanced over at Alex, surprised at the quickness with which she had accepted Kitt. She had already started talking with him like he was human, which was rather unusual. "Don't take this the wrong way, but most people are a little shocked by Kitt at first. You seem to be taking this all in stride," Michael said. He didn't feel much like chatting but he was curious about her reaction.

"People already think I'm crazy for talking to my dogs. Now I'm talking to a computer in a car. What's the difference?"

"The dogs don't talk back," Michael said, knowing that Kitt wouldn't like the comparison.

"Says you. Just because most people don't take the time to learn their language, doesn't mean they can't talk. Dogs are pack animals. They have very sophisticated methods for communicating. We just don't get it." There was a frostiness to her tone. Michael could tell he'd hit on a topic that she was defensive about.

"Alex, can I ask you a question?" Kitt said.

"Sure."

"Why did you decide to have the dog euthanized?"

Alex took a moment before responding. It was a topic she usually avoided with people outside the shelter community. A lot of them just didn't understand. "It's more humane, Kitt. That dog was badly injured. She would have had months of painful recuperation, if she had recovered at all. And she was a pit bull. We have a hard enough time placing them as it is. She was used as a bait dog and she was horribly mistreated. Temperament wise, she seemed fine, but who knows. Maybe after recuperating she would have started to act out, or go downhill and then we'd have to put her down anyway, after subjecting her to a lot of pain. It's really hard to tell with dogs like that." Alex was aware that Michael was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He wasn't acknowledging the conversation, but it was obviously that he was listening. She had to remind herself that other people weren't as used to the grim realities of her job as she was. "Every year in this country, 4 to 5 million animals get put down because there aren't any homes for them, and someone has to decide which animals those will be. It's not a job I enjoy. Believe me, I wish I could save them all. But sometimes it makes sense, and this was one of those cases."

Kitt was disappointed with the answer. It seemed to him that the life of the dog was worth something, but he couldn't argue with Alex's logic. And he didn't find her position enviable.

Alex glanced over at Michael, who was frowning slightly. "Look, I know it doesn't seem like it, because it ended badly, but you did a good thing. That dog could have lingered on for hours or maybe even days, alone and in pain. You showed her some kindness. And in the end, sometimes that's all you can do."

Michael stared silently out at the road in front of them.

* * *

Derrick Kohl strode out into the yard behind his favorite house. He had several places, but this one was high up on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The main house, a building done in stucco and Spanish tile, was somewhat modest in size, but there was a beautiful pool on the grounds, surrounded by cobalt blue tile and bird of paradise plants. Kohl walked right past the pool and headed along a red brick path to a smaller building set back from the main house. He opened the door and was immediately assaulted by the barking. He scanned the ten cages in his kennel and grabbed a whistle that was hanging from a hook by the door. He blew the ultrasonic whistle and all the dogs stopped barking. He walked down the aisle that separated the kennel into two halves and looked at each animal. His pride and joys were all mid-sized pit bulls, each wagging their tails and looking up at him expectantly. They were smart, strong, and completely loyal. The kennel itself was sparkling clean and well organized -- everything was at his fingertips. He selected two dogs from the group and opened their cages to let them into the large, fenced-in run behind the kennel. He stood in the doorway watching the two dogs and picked up a tennis ball from a bin on his right.

A man dressed in dark coveralls, wearing sunglasses approached him. "Sir, your fighting dogs have been exercised this morning."

"Good. How is Pike progressing?" Kohl asked without taking his eyes off the two dogs that were playfully tussling in the grass.

"Very well, sir. He's still a little small, but very tenacious and focused for a pup."

"Good. Select one or two for the event this evening and have them transported to the warehouse. I want winners this time, Schneider. The last one wasn't ready."

"Of course, sir," he said, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Schneider?"

"Yes?"

"Why haven't you finished your assignment at the shelter?"

"Sir," the man hesitated. "They've installed an additional security system. I'm waiting on a buddy of mine to get me the specs so I can disarm it."

"Just get it done," Kohl said, not taking his eyes off his dogs. "This has gone on long enough."

"Yes, sir."

Schneider turned to leave as Kohl took a seat on a bench next to the kennel door. He called out to the dogs and as soon as they were running his direction, he threw the tennis ball over their heads. They skidded on the wet grass as they reversed their direction and raced after the little green ball.

Kohl had first been exposed to pit bulls as a young dealer out on the streets. He was still in his teens and a client had paid him with a pit puppy instead of cash. The guy had explained how much a good fighting pit was worth and had offered to show Kohl how to train the dog. At first Kohl had been skeptical, the rantings of an addict, he thought. But shortly after that, the man had taken him to a fight and he had seen just how much money changed hands. Dog fighting had supplemented his drug money nicely in the early days and he found it an addicting pastime. Some of the good fighters were easy to spot. They walked the walk and you could see the muscles rippling under their fur. Others just came out of nowhere.

Kohl smiled and checked his watch. He blew his whistle once and the two dogs stopped wrestling each other over the tennis ball. They trotted over to their cages and stopped to wait for their treats. Kohl threw a biscuit into each one's cage and then latched the doors behind the animals. These dogs weren't used as fighters. They were much too valuable.

* * *

"Bonnie, I just have another quick question," Allan Thorpe said as he wandered tentatively into the garage area. Allan was a former Knight Industries board member who had recently been named Devon's assistant, and basically his heir apparent. Originally, he had been excited about the opportunity, but he was discovering that his job wasn't as defined as he might like it to be. To this point, it seemed that his biggest responsibility was doing the jobs that Devon didn't like to do. And right now that meant going over the budgets for next year.

Bonnie, who was sitting at a computer, let her head sink down until it brushed the keyboard in front of her. "You know, Devon always just rubber stamps my budgets. It's really much easier that way."

Allan laughed. It was clear that Bonnie wasn't used to having to live within a budget. "Well, I'm sure it is, but this helps me get an idea of what you guys do around here. Besides, I'm not going to sign off on something without looking at it. Devon may have been too busy, but I'm not."

"Lucky me. So I guess you're not going to go for the Jamaican vacation I put down as line item 67?" Bonnie picked up her head and resigned herself to answering Allan's question.

"Well, I haven't gotten that far, yet. But for line item 22 you have down three scanning arrays for Kitt."

"Yes."

"Why three? Those scanners are very expensive."

"I realize that, Allan." Bonnie's voice was measured; she was trying to be patient with him. She got along well with Allan, but it was difficult having to answer to someone besides Devon. "That's how many scanners we went through last year. The scanner is Kitt's most vulnerable system. It needs an unobstructed view of the world to work properly, so it can't be coated with the molecular bonded shell. It has a grid in front of it to provide some protection, but it has a tendency to get damaged."

Bonnie heard the sound of a vehicle approaching outside and hit a button on the wall next to her to open the garage door. She knew that Kitt was perfectly capable of handling it himself, but she liked to do it and he let her.

"But three of them? In one year?"

"As I said, that's how many we went through last year. I just do the repairs. But you can take it up with Michael if you want -- he's head of the damaging department," she said with a wry smile as Michael pulled Kitt into the service bay and opened his door.

"Hi Bonnie, Allan," Michael said wearily and flopped down onto the couch in the lounge area.

"Michael, glad your back. Look, I'm going over the budgets for next year and Bonnie has allocated three scanning arrays. Is there anything we can do to reduce that number?"

Michael glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Look, Allan, Kitt and I get into some scrapes. It's part of the job. We don't get him damaged intentionally, it just happens. And I'd love to tell you that we'll be careful, but it just isn't something that we can control." Michael's voice got louder as he spoke and he was eyeing Allan pointedly from his spot on couch. Bonnie was immediately concerned. It wasn't like Michael to be defensive about repairs, unless they were actually arguing about it.

"Oh, okay then. I didn't mean to suggest that it was your fault. I'm just trying to understand," Allan said sheepishly.

"No problem, Allan," Michael said, still sounding bothered, as Allan scuttled out of the room.

Bonnie looked at Michael suspiciously. "What's up?"

"Just been a bad day."

Bonnie left her post at the computer and went to sit next to Michael on the couch. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Oh, I don't know." Michael looked into her gray eyes and decided that maybe he did want to talk about it. "How about I buy you a beer? I've got a couple hours before I need to be back at the shelter."

"Sure. Just give me a minute to close up shop."

* * *

Kitners wasn't really Michael's kind of place. Michael preferred a nice local dive -- somewhere to disappear in a sticky back corner booth with plastic baskets of stale peanuts or popcorn on the tables. But this place was close by and he knew that Bonnie and some of the other technicians hung out here from time to time.

Michael opened the door and climbed the single flight of stairs up into the bar area. A section of pleasant-looking wooden tables filled the open space in the front half of the room. The regular pattern of the unfinished brick wall beyond the tables was broken by a fireplace and mantel, which gave the room a cozy feel. The ornate brass and wood bar was framed by bookshelves full of liquor bottles stacked up to the high tin ceiling. There was a library-style ladder on wheels behind the bar to retrieve bottles from the higher shelves.

It was early, so Michael and Bonnie were able to snag a quiet table in the corner next to the fireplace. Michael left his jacket on the back of his chair and intercepted the bartender. He returned with a pair of beers in long necks bottles.

"So, why the bad day?" Bonnie asked.

"Did you have any pets growing up?" Michael asked, avoiding the direct question.

"A yellow lab and two cats. Why? Is the shelter getting to you?"

Michael stared into the gas flame in the fireplace. "Kitt and I found this dog. She was a pit bull who was apparently used to train other pit bulls to fight. She lost pretty badly."

Michael picked up his bottle and eyed it before taking a swig. "We found her in this old warehouse and I was expecting . . . I don't know. I was expecting her to come lunging after me, teeth snapping, but she was just laying there covered in gashes and bite wounds, trying to wag her tail."

Bonnie waited for Michael to continue, not sure exactly where he was going with this.

"So we took her back to the shelter and Alex called it into the vet. We rushed over there and they ended up putting her down."

"I'm sorry, Michael."

"I don't even know why it's bothering me. I mean, it's just a dog right? We see people being treated terribly every day."

"Yes, but usually people can fight back on their own. They may not get anywhere, but they usually know when to get angry. Animals can be pretty defenseless."

"She was a pit bull, Bonnie. I'd hardly call her defenseless. She was just too stupid to know not to trust people. The damn thing licked my hand. She should have taken my arm off after all that was done to her, but she just wanted to be pet." Michael set his beer down hard on the table and stared off at the fireplace again. "And Alex just didn't care. I mean she's not the friendly, lovable type, but man. The vet suggested putting the dog down and she says, 'fine, sure, go right ahead.'"

"Michael, that doesn't mean she doesn't care. She must see this all the time. And if she dissolves into tears every time something like this happens, what good would she be?" Bonnie tucked a section of hair behind her ear. "We all get used to the things we see."

"Yeah, but she didn't even bat an eyelash."

"Do you get upset every time you're shot at?"

"No," Michael conceded.

"Because it would get in the way of your job if you did. You can't afford to fall apart. And I'm sure it's the same with Alex."

"I know, but she just gave up on the dog. I mean, she was a nice dog, despite everything that was done to her and Alex just up and agreed to put her down. The Foundation could have paid the medical bills and I'm sure we could have helped find a family for her. Alex didn't even explore any other possibilities."

"Yes, but to you, that was a unique situation. You helped rescue that dog, of course you're going to want to do everything possible to help her. To Alex, it's probably the same situation she sees all the time. And she knows she only has limited resources and they have to be spent on the best cases."

"I know. It just bugs me. The dog didn't even get a name. She's official known as 'stray pit.'"

They sat silently for a moment.

"Maybe this bothers you so much because you're used to fighting tooth and nail and not giving up," Bonnie suggested.

"I guess it did kind of feel like we were quitting. And not only that, but it was quitting in a very permanent way."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows in agreement.

"And it bothers me that it bothers me. I mean, why should I care about a dog?" Michael said, shaking his head.

Bonnie chuckled softly and reached across the table to rap on his chest with the back of her hand. "So you've got a heart in there. It's not the worst thing in the world."

Michael rolled his eyes but felt a little relieved. "Thanks, Bon," he said softly.

* * *

Michael dropped by the shelter office when he and Kitt arrived for their nightly patrol. Alex was moving paper from one pile to another on the desk and looking very bored.

"Hi," she said, pushing her chair back.

"Hey Alex. Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I reacted to the situation this morning. The whole process of dealing with that dog was a lot colder than I expected. I'm not someone who usually gives up and it just bothered me to see her put down without even a fight."

"You're used to working with people. It's a whole different story in the animal world. I know it seems like a cruel process, but it's the only thing we can do sometimes."

"It just bothers me that the dog didn't even get a name. It seems like she deserved at least that amount of respect."

"So name her," Alex said in her no-nonsense, just-get-it-done manner. She was giving Michael a very firm look that had him off balance. "I still have the paperwork on my desk. Give her a name and I'll write it up that way."

"It seems kind of pointless now. She's dead."

"Not really. You aren't naming her for her. You're naming her for you." She gave him a pointed stare. "And that's okay. It's good to care about them. Believe it or not there are some of them that have had me crying my eyes out."

Michael did find that very hard to believe. "I don't know what name to give her."

"Think about it and let me know." Alex shrugged. "I'm going to start my nightly inspection and then get out of here. It's been a long day."

"Okay. I'll be out back with Kitt if you need anything."


* * *


Michael must have felt guilty because he woke up two hours into his catnap in the shelter parking lot. Having a partner who didn't need sleep made stakeout duty much easier, especially after being up all day, but he felt bad sleeping while Kitt twiddled his wheels. Michael ran a hand through his hair and looked out at the darkness surrounding them. A semi had pulled into the warehouse next to the shelter parking lot, but other than that, nothing unusual was going on. Traffic in the area had slowed to a crawl.

"Anything interesting going on, buddy?" Michael asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No, Michael. Everything has been quiet since the volunteers and Alex left several hours ago."

"We've only been at this two nights, but this is already getting tedious."

Kitt was quiet. He wanted to ask Michael about the dog, but he suspected that he was going to get brushed off again. He had tried to bring up the subject earlier, on their way back to the Foundation, but Michael didn't seem to want to talk about it with him.

"Michael, did you have any pets as a boy?"

Michael looked at the voice modulator. "Yeah, pal, I had a dog. When I was twelve, this skinny, mangy mutt started hanging around our neighborhood, begging for scraps. I used to wrap up pieces of my dinner in a napkin to sneak out to him at night. When my mom found out she was furious, but she realized there wasn't much chance of getting rid of him after that. She threatened to call the pound, but I put up such a fuss that she finally gave in. We took him to the vet, got him cleaned up, and he turned out to be a great dog. He used to sit out in the driveway with me while I was shooting hoops and I'd always save him a scrap or two from dinner."

"I'm not sure I understand the appeal of a pet. It seems like an unnecessary responsibility."

Michael smiled. "Well, it is, but you get a lot back from them."

"As you know, Michael, I'm not a big fan of animals, but I wish there was something more we could have done for that dog today. I don't like to see them mistreated."

"Me either, buddy."

"And I did some checking. Alex's numbers are correct. There are a lot of animals destroyed every year. It's such a waste, and the problem could so easily be remedied. If most of the animals were sterilized, overpopulation could be solved in a generation or two."

"Maybe people just don't realize the extent of the problem." Michael was, himself, just beginning to understand the scope.

"It seems very much like the problem we have, Michael. No matter how many criminals we put behind bars, there are always more out there."

Michael laughed. "I didn't think of that, but I guess you're right. It does provide job security though." Michael made a mental note to talk to Devon about doing something for the shelter when this was all over.

Kitt's tone changed. "Michael, I'm picking up a man moving on foot behind the shelter, and there's a car that has been left running on the side street in that direction."

Michael couldn't help glancing out the window, despite knowing that he wouldn't be able to see the suspect yet. "Ok, maybe if we sit tight, we can get an idea of what he's after."

They waited as the suspect moved stealthily toward the shelter. Kitt was tracking the man's progress on his monitors. "Michael, he's moving around to the other side of the building, near the dog run."

"Ok, Kitt, I'm going in. I'll head toward him through the kennel. Once he's climbed into the run, position yourself so that you can cut off his escape route. I want to see what he goes for. Can you disarm the security system so he doesn't get spooked?"

"Of course. Be careful, Michael."

"When am I not?" Michael said, slipping silently out of the car, not waiting for a reply. He approached the side door of the shelter and entered quietly, using the key Alex had given him. The shelter windows allowed in a faint glow from the streetlights outside, letting Michael see shadows and silhouettes. Stopping behind the bank of cat cages, he listened for any sign of the intruder. Michael was so focused on apprehending the suspect that he jumped when something made contact with his head and grabbed at his hair. He swatted upward before realizing that it was one of the cats, playing. He looked up into the cage at the ghostly, iridescent, yellow eyes and willed his breathing to return to normal. "Kitt where is he?"

"He just finished scaling the fence and it looks like he's trying to deactivate the alarm," Kitt said over the comlink.

Michael maneuvered through the cat room and crossed the darkened lobby, heading towards the kennel. Peering through the window to make sure he was still ahead of the intruder, Michael opened the door and immediately realized his mistake -- the dogs started barking. Michael crouched down and moved closer to the run door. He was afraid that the dogs had given him away, but the intruder apparently thought they were barking at him since the doorknob started to turn.

Finally the door pushed open and a masked, black-clad figure stole into the room. He looked around, seeing nothing but the dog cages, and then flipped on a flashlight. He started down the short aisle, shining his light into each cage, one at a time. Michael kept low and snuck closer to the man, careful to stay out of the flashlight beam. Once he felt he was close enough to the intruder, he lunged forward and tackled him. The element of surprise was on his side and the man tumbled to the floor, his flashlight hitting the concrete and rolling away. The intruder managed to get a leg free and kicked Michael in the chest. Michael sat back, having lost his night vision to the flashlight. He heard the man scramble up and saw him in the beam of light as he reached the wall and grabbed a choke chain off a hook there. Michael dove for the flashlight, but the man swung the chain and whipped Michael across the hand. It hurt like hell, but Michael managed to reach the flashlight first anyway. The man kicked him again in the side, and Michael slumped down, realizing that the flashlight was giving the man something to aim for. He turned it off and crawled next to a cage. Michael waited for his night vision to return while listening to the man thrash around, swinging the chain wildly. Then Michael turned the flashlight back on and shone it up at his attacker, blinding him. The man tried to hit Michael with the chain, but since he wasn't able to see, it grazed off his shoulder, harmlessly. Staying low with the cage to his back, Michael kicked the man in the knee and he went down with a thud. As Michael was getting up to try to pin him, the man kicked back in the direction of the flashlight and managed to connect with Michael's stomach, painfully sending him back into the cage behind him. Michael heard the intruder scramble away as he tried to catch his breath. He also heard the sound of metal clanking against metal. He got to his feet and was about to go after the intruder when he heard a low, guttural growl, very nearby. He paused. It didn't sound like it was coming from a cage.

"Michael, there's a dog loose and I don't think it's friendly," Kitt said over the comlink.

Michael saw the light from outside as the run door opened and the man slipped away. "Where is it?"

"Five feet in front of you. And the sign on its cage says 'Supervisor Only.'"

Great, Michael thought. He could just make out the dog's shape. It was definitely big, whatever it was. "Kitt, what do I do?"

"Get out of there?"

"Yeah, easier said than done." He wanted to back up, but it was at least 25 feet to the kennel exit and he was afraid that too much movement would set off the dog. He slowly reached down to retrieve the flashlight that was lying on the floor. He swung the beam in a slow, wide arc, getting his first look at the German shepherd mix that was standing in the middle of the aisle, near an open cage door. Its teeth were bared, its ears were back, and it was crouched low to the ground.

"Michael, there's a broom to your right. You might want that in case the dog comes at you."

"Thanks." Michael reached out very slowly, and felt around until he made contact with the broom handle. He picked it up, just in time. The dog snapped at him and lunged forward. Michael swung the stick end of the broom as hard as he could, connecting with the animal's shoulder. It was enough to get the dog to stop its forward motion, but it crouched down and started to bark at him. Michael's pulse was racing. Most of the times when he was attacked, he didn't have to worry about being bit.

"Michael, I called Alex. She's on her way. She said there's a pole with a loop at one end that they use to deal with dogs such as this. It's on your right about ten feet behind you."

"Thanks, buddy."

Michael was keeping the flashlight on the dog, hoping that if it couldn't see him, it wouldn't attack, but it seemed to be getting more agitated. The dog launched into a fit of barking and then jumped toward the light source. Michael hit it across the head with the broom, causing it to back away again, barking and snarling.

Michael put the flashlight between his teeth, switched the broom to his left hand, and felt along the wall for the pole, trying not to take his eyes off the dog.

"It's about a foot behind you yet," Kitt said. Michael felt his hand make contact with something cold and round. He raised it off its hook and moved it into the flashlight's beam. It was a black metal pole about four feet long with a thick cable loop at the end.

"Now, what?" he asked.

"You slip the cable over the dog's head and then tighten it by pulling the end that's strung through the handle."

"Right," Michael said looking at the angry animal in front of him. The circular patch of light covered the dog with shadows and sharp contrasts, making it appear unearthly and evil. Michael slowly set the broom against the wall and lowered the pole until it was in front of the dog's face. The dog ducked underneath it and flew at him. Michael tried to bring the pole around but it was ungainly and he was too slow. The dog jumped at him, bit his forearm, and hung on. Michael yelled out and brought the pole up to jab the dog hard in the stomach. It let go and backed away a bit, still barking. Michael moved the pole into position again, and quickly lunged, this time getting it around the dog's neck. He hurriedly pulled the cable tight. The dog bucked and twisted against the loop, snapping and spinning. Michael dropped the flashlight and held on with all his strength to keep the 80 lb dog on the end of the pole under his control.

"Now what!" he yelled, thankful that Kitt was keeping an open channel on the comlink.

"Now you push him back into his cage."

"Easy for you to say!"

Michael forced the dog to move backward. The cage door was partially open, so Michael was able to maneuver the dog across the threshold, and into its cage, as it doubled its efforts to get free. He pushed it back into the corner, and closed the door as much as he could. There was no way to shut it completely unless he could get the pole out, and Michael had no interest in trying to get the loop over the dog's head. The flashlight was out of his reach and he couldn't see the animal inside the dark cage.

Alex arrived a few minutes later, hitting the lights in the kennel and hurrying over to Michael. With a deft hand, she took the pole from him, whisked the loop off the dog's neck, and managed to get the cage door slammed shut. As soon as the animal realized it was free, it charged forward, snapping and barking.

"How did he get out of his cage?" she asked coldly.

"Someone broke into the shelter. When I tried to catch the guy, he gave me the slip and opened that cage to slow me down." Michael carefully pulled off his jacket, noting that the dog's teeth had torn through the leather.

"Oh." Alex eyed the open door to the run before spotting blood on Michael's arm. "You got bit?"

"I'm fine. It's more of a scratch, really."

"If it broke the skin, you need to get it looked at. Dog bites can cause nasty infections."

"Any chance that dog is rabid?" Michael asked, not relishing the idea of having to get a series of shots.

Alex looked at the cage thoughtfully. The dog was still barking and lunging at the door. "Most likely not. We haven't had a case of rabies around here for over a decade, but I'll have him tested to be sure. I think at this point its safe to say we'll be putting him down. He was evidence in a drug bust, but with this kind of behavior, the lawyers will probably give us the go ahead. We can testify to his temperament."

She watched the dog a minute more, before herding Michael out the door, to go to the hospital.

* * *

Michael was not thrilled about taking antibiotics, but at least the bite wasn't serious and he didn't have to have stitches. The bruising was actually worse than the punctures -- his jacket had spared him the worst of it. He was also glad that he had convinced Alex and Kitt that Dr. Alpert could handle it at the Foundation. As much as he didn't relish the obligatory lecture about taking care of himself, it was better than dealing with a hospital ER staff.

Alex had gone home for the night, after seeing that Michael was attended to, and the excitement had finally died down. After patching him up, Dr. Alpert had told Michael to rest, but he was too wired to sleep. Despite the aching in his arm, Michael refused to take the painkillers the good doctor had prescribed for him. The pain wasn't that bad and he generally made it a rule to avoid the groggy, drugged up feeling of pain medication whenever possible.

Michael silently climbed down the steps, careful not to wake anyone. He decided a walk outside would help clear his head. The Foundation had tasteful little lanterns along the paths near the building, giving the grounds a safe and comforting glow. As was always the case when he had something on his mind, Michael found himself heading towards the garage on automatic pilot. He slipped inside but didn't bother to turn on the lights.

"You're supposed to be resting," Kitt said, his scanner leaping to life.

"Don't start," Michael said, gently.

"I'm sorry. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I've had a lot worse injuries in my career."

"Tell me about it," Kitt quipped.

"Got any suggestions on where to go from here?" Michael asked, opening the driver's side door and climbing into the cabin.

"I'm afraid not, Michael. I'm sorry I let the suspect get away, but I was more worried about you."

"That's okay. He gave both of us the slip." Michael leaned back against the headrest. He hadn't intended on sleeping in the car tonight. In fact, he had been thinking that it would be nice to sleep in his bed instead of catching little naps while on stake out, but he realized that felt more comfortable here, in Kitt. "Maybe tomorrow we should go scout out Kohl's estate. He's involved in this somehow. I'm sure of it."

"What do you hope to find?" Kitt asked.

"His dogs, maybe?" Michael said, not really sure, but wanting to do something productive.

"It's worth a try. But only if you get some sleep," Kitt admonished lightly.

Michael smiled. "Yes, mom," he said, his eyes already shut.

* * *

Michael pulled back a small branch and tried to get a good look at Kohl's mansion from his hiding place in the trees lining the property.

"There's no one near the kennel, but when those dogs start barking, I'm sure you'll have company," Kitt said through the comlink.

"Gotcha." Michael broke into a crouched run across the well-manicured lawn. He reached the building and put it between him and the main house. He backed around the far corner and saw that there was a dog in the run behind the kennel. It stared at him curiously before trotting over.

"Hey there, boy. Do me a favor and be quiet, okay?" Michael quickly pulled a treat out of his pocket, having learned their value from Alex.

The dog happily gulped down the biscuit and Michael flipped another one into the run for him.

"Kitt, this dog is in very good shape. Can you do a scan, see if there are any scars under its fur?" Michael asked, holding out his comlink.

"I'm not detecting any wounds, healed or otherwise, and I would agree with your assessment of the dog's condition."

Maybe this dog just hadn't been fought yet, Michael thought. He studied the wooden, windowless kennel and decided he wasn't going to find anything by waiting around outside. He followed the wall towards the front of the little building and quickly scanned the lawn between the kennel and the house before slipping inside. As he expected, the dogs started barking immediately.

Michael moved quickly from cage to cage looking them over. "They all seem to be in good shape, and this place is immaculate," he said, noticing there were leather leads hanging from individual hooks above the dogs' cages, right next to brass name plates. "These dogs aren't being trained to fight. I wonder if he keeps the fighters somewhere else."

"I wouldn't want them on my property either," Kitt remarked.

"Fair enough."

"Michael, I'm afraid there are two people approaching the kennel. One appears to be Kohl, and the other is armed."

Michael weighed his options. He could try to sneak away, but he'd have a hard time getting across the lawn without being spotted. He was tempted to try to rattle Kohl. If he knew someone was looking into him again, he might just make a stupid move. Of course, it might also cause him to be more careful, but Michael had a hunch that Kohl was feeling over confident, having beaten the drug rap. "Right. Let's see if we can rattle him a bit."

"Michael, I did mention that one of them was armed, right?"

"I know, but I doubt I'm worth the effort of killing right now. He still thinks he's got me beat."

"Be careful," Kitt said, not sounding at all convinced.

"Just keep an open comlink channel in case I need you," Michael said. "Where are they?"

"About 200 feet from your position."

Michael slowly pushed open the kennel door, making his sure his arms were spread out to his sides in a non-threatening gesture. "Hey there," he said as the man next to Kohl immediately dropped into a shooting stance. "Nice dogs you got here. Any puppies for sale?"

Kohl, recognizing him, signaled his guard that it was okay. The guard relaxed a bit, but didn't put away the gun. "Mr. Knight," Kohl said, "this is trespassing, not to mention harassment."

"I just heard you had some great dogs here and I was hoping to see them."

"Clearly, you've seen them. Now, the judge threw my case out of court. You lost. I won. I am a law abiding citizen and I have a right to privacy."

"For now," Michael said, his voice tipped with a dark edge. "But there's something I'm a little confused about. Maybe you can help me."

"What's that?" Kohl asked, smirking.

"Your dogs. They look like a bunch of milk fed wimps. I heard you had fighting dogs here."

Kohl glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah. I heard that you were the guy to see about getting a fighting pit. Those dogs there," Michael said, off-handedly gesturing toward the kennel, "wouldn't know what to do in a fight."

"I assure you, Mr. Knight that my dogs can handle themselves, but they're raised to run agility courses, not fight."

Michael returned the glare. "Too bad," he said and headed across the lawn to leave.

Kohl called after him. "Just so you're aware, Mr. Knight. As soon as you leave this property, I'll be placing a call to my lawyer instructing him to have a restraining order filled against you. I don't want you on my property again."

Michael smiled. "Don't bother. What I'm looking for isn't here."

Michael casually walked down the driveway until he reached Kitt, who was parked just out of sight on the road.

"I'm afraid that wasn't very productive," Kitt said as Michael climbed in.

"No. He's obviously keeping the fighting dogs somewhere else, but something about this still doesn't make sense, pal. If he is in the fighting world, why would he keep those dogs in such good condition? I mean, this is someone who sees animals as a commodity and finds pleasure in them ripping each other to shreds. Why would he have a beautiful kennel full of well-kept dogs?"

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you."

"Run through his other properties, buddy. See if any of them are likely locations for his fighting dogs."

"Right away, Michael."

* * *

When Michael and Kitt arrived at the shelter that night, Alex met them in the parking lot to examine Michael's wounds.

"I'm fine, really." Michael said, not wanting to be fussed over.

"Well, I hate for people to get hurt at the shelter," Alex said.

Michael was as frustrated that the suspect got away as he was with his injuries. He was itching to do something more than wait. "We need a way to flush these guys out -- some sort of bait that will get their attention. I'd rather trap them on our terms than work on their time table."

Alex thought a minute. "If they are looking for pit bulls, they may come to our fundraiser this weekend. We do a dog wash and a lot of our former shelter dogs come back for it. We adopt out a good number of pits, so maybe these guys will be there."

"Would this be something they would know about?" Michael asked, tossing the idea around in his head.

"We send flyers to all the people who come in and fill out applications, so one should have been sent to Kohl."

"What do you say, buddy, want to attend a dog wash?" Michael asked, patting Kitt's hood.

"No," Kitt replied churlishly. "Wet dog offends my olfactory analyzer." Alex looked at him disapprovingly but didn't say anything.

"Ahhh, come on, Kitt. Everyone loves dogs."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Michael," Alex said simply. "I was thinking that to blend in, maybe you should help us wash them. We're short handed and we need plenty of strong backs."

"Why do I feel like I just got suckered?" Michael asked.

Alex shrugged, but there was the beginning of a grin on her face. "I'll take 'volunteers' any way I can get them."

"You got it," Michael said, shaking his head.


* * *

The parking lot outside the shelter had been cordoned off with reddish-brown temporary fencing. A row of flexible garden hoses twisted toward five colorful children's swimming pools, each with its own bucket of shampoo and conditioning rinse. A group of volunteers had already started and there was a line of dogs nervously waiting for their baths. Alex waved Michael over to her pool.

"You can work with me," she said tossing him a towel from over her shoulder.

Michael was wearing a pair of cutoffs and an old T-shirt for the occasion. He figured that the dogs weren't going to be the only ones getting wet.

"So what do I do?" he asked Alex.

"New volunteer, huh?" a pretty redhead said from the next pool over. She was holding a large German shepherd mix by the collar and was soaked from head to foot. She looked up and smiled at Michael's befuddled expression. "Hi. I'm Staci." She stuck out a soapy hand, looked at it, and laughed.

Michael reached out and shook it anyway. "I have a feeling I'm going to get wet soon enough. I'm Michael."

"Don't worry, you're in good hands with Alex. She's an old pro," Staci said and turned her attention back to the dog.

"It's easy, really," Alex said. "Just hold onto the dog, or let the owners do it, whatever you're more comfortable with. You pour the soap, and handle the hose for rising them off and I'll scrub them."

Michael hunkered down for their first victim, a small beagle who was howling his little head off. As Michael suspected, as soon as he got the dogs wet, they shook and returned the favor. It wasn't long before he looked like Staci. His t-shirt was plastered to his chest and his cutoffs were heavy with water, but he was having a blast. Alex wasn't one to make small talk so he chatted with Staci and the owners while they were washing the dogs. Most of the customers were happy to tell funny stories about their pets. Every so often Michael glanced around, looking to see if anyone suspicious was watching, but he didn't notice anything.

After a couple of hours, Michael's comlink beeped. Kitt's timing was impeccable. Someone had just brought a little chocolate lab puppy to Staci's pool and everyone was oohing and ahhing over the little guy. Michael excused himself and stepped away from the group to talk freely.

"What is it, Kitt?" Michael asked, thinking that this was one of the many times he was glad the comlink was waterproof.

"Michael, I'm not detecting any blatantly unusual activity in the area, but I have noticed that one of the owners with a pit bull has been here a very long time."

"Where?"

"On the benches in front of the shelter."

Michael looked and saw a well-dressed man sitting with a wet pit bull, watching the crowd. The dog seemed very well behaved and the guy didn't look out of place, but if Kohl were going to send someone, it would have to be someone who wouldn't arouse suspicion.

"Keep an eye on him, buddy. He might just be enjoying the sunny weather or checking out the other dogs -- there are a lot of people who seem to be hanging around. But if he gets up to leave, or does anything suspicious, let me know."

"ALEX!!!"

Michael whirled around at the panicked yell just in time to see Staci take off running after the little lab puppy who was now loose in the parking lot. Alex followed them when she realized that the puppy was headed for the driveway. They had the area blocked off with fencing, but the puppy quickly squirmed under it and was running towards the busy street in front of the shelter.

"Kitt!" Michael yelled into the comlink. "Cut him off!" Michael ran after Staci and Alex who were pulling the fencing aside to go after him.

Michael watched as Kitt peeled out of his parking spot on a side street and cut off a car in the right lane. The driver honked, but she had plenty of room to switch lanes and get out of the way. The puppy was running along the curb, looking like he was about to dart out into the street. Kitt put on his hazards and pulled up alongside the dog. The puppy skipped ahead like he wanted to race, so Kitt quickly followed, preventing him from getting to the street. The lab jumped and wiggled the other way, so Kitt put the car in reverse, keeping himself between the puppy and the road. Staci and Alex caught up to the puppy and slowed down, trying to corner him. The little guy darted and wiggled away from Alex's first attempt to grab him. He was playing with the volunteers, oblivious to he danger he was in.

"Well, I'm afraid you leave me no choice," Kitt said and popped open his door. The puppy immediately put his paws on the floor but stopped short of jumping in. Michael was surprised when Kitt used his anharmonic synthesizer to mimic a whistle coming from the cabin. That was all the encouragement the puppy needed. He jumped into the car and put his wet paws up on Kitt's dash.

"You're too cute for your own good," Kitt said as Alex reached in and grabbed the wiggly puppy. She scooped him up and held him tight to her chest.

"That wasn't funny little monster. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She smiled as the puppy licked her face. Michael was amused when she continued to babble baby talk to the dog. A man who had been close behind Michael stepped toward Alex.

"Sorry, he's mine. I should have had a better hold on him, but I figured he'd like the water, being a lab and all."

Alex handed the puppy back. "What's his name?"

"Rascal," the man replied sheepishly.

"You're well named, huh?" Alex said to the dog before turning back to the owner. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. It was my fault." The puppy nuzzled his owner and showered the man with more kisses as they headed back toward the shelter. Alex looked at Michael wearily and pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is my worst nightmare about these things -- that someone's dog will get away from us and end up either hit by a car or lost." She walked over and put a hand on Kitt's roof. Leaning into the cabin she said, "Thanks, Kitt. I really really appreciate it."

Staci was staring at Alex and Kitt, wide-eyed, having realized the car was driverless. Alex motioned her back toward the parking lot. "I'll explain later."

"I don't suppose she's grateful enough to pay for my upholstery to be cleaned. That dog was only in here for a few seconds and it's going to smell for days."

Michael looked at Kitt and shook his head. His partner would go to any length to hide his soft spot sometimes. "Oh, just admit it. The puppy was cute."

"Oh, he was very cute, Michael, but he still smells like wet dog." There was a pause and Kitt's tone changed drastically. "Michael, the man with the pit bull is gone."

Michael spun around to stare at the empty bench. He briefly wondered if the puppy had been an intentional diversion, but the man had taken Rascal back to the pool to finish his bath. "You've got pictures, right?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Send them to Devon and Bonnie and see what they can come up with."

Michael patted Kitt on the hood. "Good work with that puppy, partner," he said seriously, and walked back toward the shelter.

* * *

Once the parking lot had cleared and all the patrons had gone home, Michael helped the volunteers clean up. After toweling off and changing clothes, several of them had agreed to meet at a local restaurant for dinner. They invited Michael, but he noticed that Alex wasn't going and he wanted to show her pictures of the man with the pit bull. It was finally quiet in the shelter; even the animals seemed tired out. Alex was in the office sitting on the floor with Peggy Sue. She hadn't bothered to turn on the lights in the room and the dusky twilight glow accentuated the shelter's gray walls.

"So was the dog wash a success?" Michael asked as he joined her.

Alex looked up. "We took in about as much money as we expected."

Michael sat down and stroked Peggy on the head, noticing that she was strangely quiet. He pulled the pictures out of his jacket pocket. "This guy look familiar to you?" he asked Alex.

She glanced at the images. "No. Good looking dog though. Seems to be well taken care of, why?"

"They were hanging around today. None of the other volunteers I talked to seemed to know him."

"Sometimes that happens. People hang around because they've lost a pet or they just like seeing all the dogs," Alex answered. She seemed distant, distracted.

"Is there something wrong?" Michael asked.

She shrugged. "Peggy isn't doing well. She has to go in for exploratory surgery tomorrow."

"Why?" Michael asked, remembering that Alex had mentioned that she had been at the vet.

"Well, when she first came in, we thought she was pregnant or had worms because her stomach was lumpy and distended. But actually, neither was true. So then we thought that maybe she had ingested something that was caught in her digestive tract. They did x-rays at the vet, and they saw some dark masses, but they weren't in the right place to be in her stomach or small intestines. And she doesn't have problems eating or eliminating, so we're assuming its cancer. We'll find out tomorrow."

"I'm sorry. Is there anything they can do for her?"

"They'll probably remove the tumors and see how she responds. It's like in humans, if they catch it early, the chances are good, but in the two weeks since her vet visit, she's been getting lethargic. Yesterday she barely moved and refused to go for a walk."

They sat on the floor petting Peggy who seemed to be enjoying the attention, even though she wasn't as energetic as usual.

"I'm thinking of just taking her home myself, depending on how bad it is," Alex said softly.

"I hope she's okay," Michael said. He briefly wondered if Alex wanted company, but decided she probably wanted to spend time alone with Peggy. He stood up to leave. "I'll be out in the parking lot, as usual. Tomorrow, I'll to try to run down this guy, see if it leads to anything."

Alex just nodded. On his way out Michael looked through the window in time to see Alex put her head down on top of Peggy Sue's.

* * *

The next morning, Michael and Kitt hit the road early, after finishing their stake out at the shelter. The sun was low to their right, painting everything with yellows and oranges as they traveled north, back to the Foundation.

"There's something missing, Kitt. Why would Kohl be so anxious to get his hands on the dogs here?"

"They are sold for a lot of money in the fighting world," Kitt suggested.

"Yeah, but he makes millions in drug money. It's a drop in the bucket to him."

"True," Kitt said, his voice modulator flashing. "I really don't know Michael, but Devon's calling."

The video monitor popped to life and Michael watched as Devon appeared on the screen, sitting behind his desk at Foundation headquarters.

"Yo, Devon, what's up?" Michael asked, amiably.

"Well, Michael, it appears your instincts about the man at the fundraiser were dead on. His name is Martin Schneider and he lists his occupation as 'private dog trainer.'"

"Lists it where?" Michael asked, confused.

"On his parole forms," Devon deadpanned.

"Ahhhhh. And for what is he on parole, pray tell?" Michael steeped his hands over the steering yoke, knowing there was a connection.

"Possession with intent to sell."

"That would appear to be quite a coincidence," Kitt said.

"Yes, and it gets better. Care to guess who he listed on his parole forms as his employer?" Devon asked, straight-faced.

"Kohl," Michael said without hesitation. "Nice that he's working for such an upstanding member of the community."

"Kohl hasn't been convicted of anything yet. There's nothing the authorities can do," Devon surmised.

"There has got to be a way to put all this together."

"If there is, I'm sure you're find it. I'm sending Kitt all the information we have on Schneider. Good luck. Both of you."

"Thanks, Devon." Michael hit the appropriate buttons to disconnect the call.

"Any suggestions?" Kitt asked.

"Maybe we should pay Schneider a visit. Kohl wasn't rattled, but maybe we can get this guy to talk."

* * *

Kitt pulled up to a dilapidated three-story apartment building. The stucco exterior was brown with grime and the decorative wrought iron gate protecting the courtyard was rusting.

"Guess 'private dog trainer' doesn't pay so well, huh, buddy?" Michael asked, opening the door and sliding out.

"Apparently not."

Michael approached the gate and was about to lift his comlink to his mouth when he realized that the lock was broken anyway. He swung the gate open and followed the sidewalk up to the main entryway. This time he did need Kitt's help.

"Thanks, buddy," he said as Kitt disengaged the lock and Michael pushed into the apartment building's foyer. He noticed a mailbox with the label 'Schneider 2E' in a bank of six boxes along the dingy, wallpapered entryway. Michael continued through the foyer and found a set of stairs covered in well trodden, stained carpet.

"Michael, according to my scans, the apartment is empty," Kitt said over the comlink. "And I've taken the liberty of unlocking the door for you."

"Thanks, buddy," Michael said as he approached the door marked 2E. It had several gouges and splinters in the wood near the floor, giving Michael the impression that at some point, someone had tried to kick it in.

The apartment itself wasn't any nicer than the rest of the building. The main room was almost bare. An old couch, with lumpy cushions in a brown and gold pattern fashionable in the sixties, held court near the dirt-streaked windows. There was nothing else in the room except for a 13-inch TV sitting on a rickety old stand. Michael made his way to the bedroom but stopped as he passed the kitchen and got a whiff of the smell. He doubled back to find a pile of dirty dishes, mold growing in some of them.

"You get the idea that he hasn't been here in a while?" Michael asked.

"Yes. And according to my scans, there's more rotting vegetation in the refrigerator."

Michael grimaced and continued on into the bedroom. He opened the closet and a few drawers. There wasn't much in the way of clothing and there were no pictures, loose coins, or knickknacks on the dresser.

"Kitt, I don't think he lives here," Michael said, coming the realization as he spoke the words.

"If I were given my choice between living here and living at Kohl's seaside mansion, I know where I'd live."

"Good point. I think I'm done here."

Michael closed up the apartment on his way out, thankful to be leaving the dive. He stood next to Kitt a moment, surveying the neighborhood, looking for some sort of inspiration. Finding nothing, he took his place in the driver's seat.

"Where to now, Michael?" Kitt asked, starting the engine himself.

"Back to the shelter, I guess. Maybe someone there knows this guy through the dog world."

They had been on the road about ten minutes when Kitt announced that Alex was calling.

"Patch her through."

"Michael?" Alex asked, her voice tinny over the speaker.

"What's up, Alex?"

"This guy, Kohl, I think I know what he's after."

Michael sat up, alert to the possibility of a break in the case. "Why, what's going on?"

"I think you're going to have to see this one for yourself. I know I did. Can you meet us at the vet clinic?"

"Sure. We'll be right there."

* * *

When Michael arrived, he was led back to a small exam room where he found Alex and the vet who had examined the injured pit bull the other day. There were five small, white pouches sitting on the exam table in front of them.

The vet looked up. "Hi. I'm Dr. Kosgrow."

"Michael Knight." They shook hands and Michael nodded to the bags on the table. "What are those?"

"We're guessing some sort of drug," Alex answered.

Dr. Kosgrow continued for her. "Peggy Sue doesn't have cancer. These were removed from her peritoneal cavity. She had an infection starting around one of them, but she's in remarkably good condition, considering. Whoever implanted these knew what they were doing. The incision was hidden along the scar from her spaying, so it was hard to identify and they probably gave her antibiotics since she went this long before getting an infection."

"Is she going to be okay?" Michael asked before pulling a knife out of his pocket, flicking it open, and slitting one of the pouches.

"She should be fine as long as the infection responds to treatment, and I expect that it will. She's resting in back right now." The vet watched as Michael tapped some of the white powder into a little vial that he also pulled from his pocket.

"Do you know what it is?" the vet asked.

"Probably heroin, but I'll get it analyzed to be sure."

"Wonderful," the vet said. "Every time I think I've seen it all, something else comes along. Alex, Peggy should probably stay here overnight, but assuming she's up and around in the morning, you can take her back to the shelter tomorrow. I guess I'll call the cops and have them confiscate this stuff."

Michael nodded and left with Alex.

"So someone was using her to transport drugs and she got away from them," Alex surmised. "Then she somehow ended up at our shelter."

"Looks that way. When I went over to Kohl's the other day, he had a whole kennel full of well-trained, healthy-looking pit bulls. I couldn't figure out why they would be so well cared for if he was into fighting. But I guess this makes sense. He can pretend he's a legitimate owner while using these dogs as mules."

"He probably got started in fighting and then had his stroke of genius. Do you think he's using them to smuggle drugs on a regular basis? I wouldn't think they could handle having surgery all the time," Alex asked as Michael opened Kitt's passenger door and she settled into the seat.

"He probably rotates them. He obviously can't put a lot in them that way, but maybe that's how he gets small amounts out to entice new buyers. He could take them on a plane with him and no one would be the wiser -- crate the dog, maybe even say they were going to a competition or something. He could use local dog shows as a cover for moving around, even if he never attends them."

"Some of those dogs might be ours from the break in two weeks ago. Can you have him arrested?"

"We need to prove that he's the one responsible for the break in and that he's after Peggy Sue. The fact that she was at the vet during the first raid is good circumstantial evidence, but we need something more concrete." Michael stared out the windshield thinking. "Alex, how long would it take for Peggy to be healthy enough to be used as bait?"

"Bait? What do you mean?" Alex asked, protectively.

"We need to catch them going after her specifically, since she was the one implanted with the drugs."

"It's going to be obvious that she had surgery. They'll know we know."

"As long as they go after her, it doesn't matter. Right now we have pictures of one of his 'dog trainers' casing out the shelter, so if we can tie him to Peggy, we should be in business."

"I think it would be okay to walk her around the grounds a day or two after she's back, assuming the infection clears. But I don't want her exposed to too much excitement."

"Okay. When she's ready, I want to have her walked for as long and as many times as possible while still looking normal. I want them to see that she's here."

* * *

Michael was extremely frustrated. He was afraid that Kohl had guessed that they knew about Peggy Sue. Alex had walked her three times that day and Kitt had spotted Schneider sitting in a parked car across from the shelter. When Peggy was taken back inside, he left. Michael expected that he would have come back the same night, but it was almost morning and there hadn't been anyone suspicious in the area. Michael wanted to get Kohl badly. Not only would that help Alex and the dogs, but since this case was back to being about drugs, they could nail him for that too. It would be nice to get him for both crimes.

"Michael, its almost sunrise. I don't think anyone is coming," Kitt said.

Michael pounded the dash lightly with his fist. "I thought we had them this time. Damn."

"Do you have any suggestions on where to go from here?"

"Maybe we should head up to Kohl's estate again, give him the third degree."

"That didn't get us anywhere the last time you tried it," Kitt said.

"I know, but I don't know what else to do at this point." Michael drummed his fingers on the steering yoke while he watched the shelter. They waited an hour more and then left as the first volunteers started to arrive.

* * *

Alex was tired after staying up at the shelter all night. Michael and Kitt had tried to talk her out of it, but she didn't want anyone turning loose a dog like they did the last time. She had figured that if she were there, she could handle any situations like that, allowing Michael and Kitt to go after Kohl's men. And she had let Peggy sleep with her in the office for much of the night, just in case someone did get into the kennel.

Alex put her head down on the desk, just to rest her eyes. She was startled when Staci burst into the office. "Someone has Peggy!" she yelled.

Alex jerked wide-awake. "What do you mean?"

"Sarah was walking her. Someone pulled up in a car, knocked Sarah down, and took Peggy."

Alex followed Staci out of the shelter to see Sarah sitting in the grass near the street with two other volunteers and their dogs at her side, but no Peggy Sue.

* * *

"Michael, Alex is calling," Kitt said, a note of confusion in his voice.

"Put her through."

"Michael, they took Peggy Sue. She was out for her early morning walk. Someone knocked down the volunteer, hustled Peggy into a car, and drove away," Alex said, spitting it all out in a rush, sounding very upset.

"Where did he go?" Michael asked slowly and deliberately, trying to get Alex to calm down.

"He was in a dark blue sedan. He drove down Ocean Street and turned left onto Santa Clara," she said.

"We're on it, Alex. Don't worry, we'll get her back."

Michael stabbed the button to disconnect them. "Damn! That's minus one point for us for being stupid and assuming that they'd follow the same pattern and only break in at night. Are there any sedan's moving at a high rate of speed near the shelter?"

"Yes. Seven, but none of them are driving suspiciously fast."

"How long until we can scan them for dogs?"

"I estimate three minutes before we'll be able to scan five out of the seven," Kitt said.

Michael waited for a break in traffic before making a hard u-turn and then stomping down on the accelerator. He had to weave in and out of different lanes, trying to get around the slower cars to maintain their speed.

"Michael, I have them. A man and a dog in a blue sedan heading north, 1.5 miles from us."

"Let's go," Michael said, his jaw set in determination.

They flew towards the nearest cross street and made a sharp turn onto the road where the sedan was traveling. After a few minutes it appeared in front of them.

"Michael, according to the plates, that car is registered to Schneider."

"That's definitely our guy," Michael said. They quickly gained on him but then slowed down to avoid being spotted. The sedan was driving quickly, but he was blending in with the other vehicles on the road.

Suddenly the sedan veered sharply to the left.

"He made us, buddy," Michael yelled turning the yoke hard to follow him.

At the next stoplight, Schneider blew through the intersection and careened around the corner.

"Michael, he's headed for a busy street," Kitt said.

"We need to cut him off."

"There's an alley up ahead. It's obstructed, but I think I can get us through it just in time to cut him off safely."

"Do it, buddy!"

Kitt took control of the car and drove straight through the intersection, quickly darted into an alley. He whizzed by several garbage cans and dumpsters, trying to snake his way through the mess.

Michael spotted two dumpsters ahead of them that were out-turned, narrowing the alley to 4 or 5 feet. "Kitt, ski mode," he yelled as he pressed the button on the console in front of him. The car launched up onto its two driver's side wheels and rolled past the dumpsters without hitting either one. The car dropped back to all four wheels a few feet beyond them.

They were quickly approaching the end of the alley. "Michael, I'm reading a car in the right lane between us and Schneider. We need to turbo boost, but there isn't enough room in the alley to get a good angle. We're going to have to turn 90 degrees into the flow of traffic as soon as we land."

"If you can get us turned, do it!"

The entrance to the alley was looming large in the windshield as Michael tightened his grip on the yoke.

"Hang on, Michael," Kitt yelled as the turbo boost button lit up and they launched on a wave of compressed air.

Kitt flew over a sporty red car, missing its roof by inches. They came crashing down in the left lane of the six-lane street. Michael barely had time to register the screech of the tires as Kitt flung the car hard to the right, sending them into a skid. He swung out into the oncoming lane, but the only car occupying it was several hundred feet in front of them and managed to stomp on the brakes. Kitt pulled the car back into traffic just as Schneider was trying to speed passed them. Michael was pushed back into his seat as Kitt accelerated to stay in front of the sedan. Schneider swerved, trying to get around them but Kitt cut him off and slowed down, forcing him to stop. The sedan's driver's side door flew open and Schneider took off on foot with Michael right on his tail.

"Michael, Peggy Sue!" Kitt yelled, alerting Michael to the fact that Schneider had left the car door open on the busy street. Michael changed direction and slammed it shut before taking off after the suspect again.

Schneider was running for his life, but he wasn't as fast as Michael. He turned over garbage cans in a vain attempt to get away. Michael closed the distance and grabbed his collar, dragging him down to the concrete. Schneider turned and kicked, trying to knock Michael's legs out from under him. Michael jumped back and then lunged toward Schneider, hitting him the gut and grinding his shoulder into the concrete sidewalk. Schneider realized that Michael was going to win and went limp. "It wasn't me, man," he yelled, putting his arms out in front of him defensively.

"It wasn't you who stole the shelter dog who's sitting in your car right now? Okay, who was it, then?"

Schneider's mouth clamped shut. Michael pulled him up so that he could turn him over and get a pair of cuffs on him. "And I suppose it wasn't you who had the drugs implanted in her either?"

"No, it wasn't me, I swear!!" he said.

"No, but you knew about them," Michael said, reading Schneider's lack of surprise.

"All I know was that I was supposed to get the dog back. That's it!"

"And who told you to get the dog?"

"I . . ." he stammered, looking frightened.

"Look, we found drugs implanted in her and you tried to steal her. Now, unless you want to take your chances in court, with the DA parading that cute, adorable dog in front of a jury, tell me who sent you."

"Kohl, man. It was Derrick Kohl." Schneider said, relenting.

"That's all I needed."

Michael yanked Schneider up, forcing him to stand. "Kitt, call the authorities."

"Already on their way."

Michael turned to see Kitt rounding the corner to join them on the side street. Michael relaxed when he heard the approaching sirens.

* * *

Michael and Kitt pulled up to the shelter and noticed there were plenty of volunteers out walking the dogs. It was a sunny day and Michael was tempted to see if Alex would let him borrow one. There was something about being able to take a dog for a walk on a nice day that he missed from his childhood. Alex was out with Peggy Sue and she headed in their direction as soon as she spotted them.

"Don't you ever walk anyone else?" Michael asked. Peggy briefly wiggled over to smell Kitt's tire before deciding that Michael was much more interesting. She jumped up on him, demanding attention. He leaned down to pat her side as she tried to lick his face.

"Yes, but she's my favorite so I spend a lot of time with her. And thanks to all the publicity we got this week, today is her last day. She was adopted last night and her new family will be in to take her home this evening."

"That's wonderful," Michael said, addressing his comment to Peggy Sue. "Bet you're going to be glad to get out of here." Peggy's tongue was lolling out of her mouth and she tried to jump up to give Michael a kiss. "She seems to be back to normal too."

"She's getting there. Maybe a little bit subdued, but I figured that surgery wouldn't keep her down for too long." Alex looked at the squirrelly dog. She was pulling at her leash and jumping up on Michael. "Oh and the police called this morning. All of the dogs we had taken from us a few weeks ago were in Kohl's possession. The ones that were at his estate are in good condition and the two he had at his warehouse with his fighters aren't too badly hurt. They should all be fine. The wardens are going to go pick them up this afternoon."

"Glad to hear it, Alex."

"So, thank you for all your help, both of you," she said, including Kitt.

"You're welcome, Alex," Kitt said. "It was our pleasure."

Michael pet Peggy some more and then tentatively turned to Alex. He spoke softly, a little embarrassed. "Remember when you said I could name that dog we found? Is that still a possibility?"

"Sure. What did you decide on?"

"I thought Spirit might be kind of appropriate considering how good-natured she was, even after all that was done to her."

"Sounds perfect. I'll write it up on the paperwork."

"Thanks. I know it seems kind of silly, but it really bothered me that she didn't have a name."

"It's not silly at all, Michael. It just shows you care."

Peggy flopped to the ground and rolled over, trying to regain her role as center of attention. As Michael leaned down to rub her stomach, she jumped back up to try to lick his face again. "Man, you are persistent," Michael said lifting his head out of her reach.

"You've got to watch her. She's very sneaky. But she's just trying to say 'thank you' too." Alex said.

"I know, but I'm not a fan of dog kisses."

As they were playing with Peggy, Devon's red Mercedes pulled into the driveway. He parked next to Kitt and joined them on the lawn, carrying a large envelop in his left hand.

"Alex this is my boss, Devon Miles. Devon, Alex Keln."

"It's good to meet you," Alex said. Devon awkwardly stepped forward to shake Alex's hand and then quickly retreated just out of Peggy's reach.

"I thought you'd all like to know, the DA filed charges against Mr. Kohl this morning. He is being indicted on several counts of drug possession and smuggling, along with cruelty to animals and dog fighting. The police found several hundred kilograms of heroin in the warehouse with his fighting dogs and Schneider agreed to testify against him. The DA assured us that he will be spending some significant time in prison."

"Good for people and animals, huh?" Michael commented.

"Most assuredly." Devon said. "Oh, and the police also arrested a man who was living at Kohl's estate. They believe he is the vet who was responsible for implanted the drugs."

"That's good to hear. Any vet willing to do something like that should lose his license at the very least," Alex said. "Thank you all very much for everything you've done."

"There is one more thing," Devon said, handing Alex the envelope he had been holding. She looked at it quizzically before tearing it open and pulling out the single sheet of paper.

"Of course, there are more details and legalize to go through, but this is the groundwork," Devon explained as Alex read.

"The Spirit Fund?" she asked, looking at Michael and then back at Devon.

"The Foundation supports various grass roots organizations committed to making a difference in their communities. This is typically accomplished through monetary gifts and grants. Michael insisted, and the Board agreed, that we set up a small endowment to help you offset the veterinary bills for injured animals. It should give you a little more leeway when dealing with those sorts of cases."

"Thank you," Alex said sincerely. "This will help a lot and we'll definitely put it to good use, but Michael, I have to tell you that this wouldn't have changed anything with Spirit."

"I know," Michael said, nodding his head slowly. "She was in pretty bad shape, but I just thought this might help out in some of the borderline cases."

She nodded. "It will. Thank you."

Peggy took the opportunity, as Alex was distracted to jump up on Kitt's hood. From there she accosted Michael, jumping up to put her paws on his chest.

"I think you just need to let her say 'thank you' and be done with it," Alex said, smiling.

"Oh fine. You win," Michael said, leaning down so that Peggy could cover his face in dog kisses.

"Better you than me, Michael. I shutter to think how she'd like to thank me," Kitt said as Devon and Alex laughed.

Michael stood up and wiped the slobber off his face. "I think we're now officially done here."

Devon and Michael each pulled open the doors on their respective cars and got in. Michael leaned out the window as Alex brought Peggy along side the car. "If you ever need anything else, don't hesitate to call," he said.

"I won't. But next time, don't tell me you only work with people."

"That's a promise," Michael said with a smile.

As they drove off, Alex and Peggy walked to the end of the driveway where Alex waved and Peggy Sue barked her goodbyes.

------------------
-knightshade
May 13, 2002

Author's Note: I tried to keep this story as true to life as possible. Peggy Sue is a real pit bull and she really could get out of her cage at the shelter where I volunteer. She did not, thankfully, have any drugs implanted in her, although that did happen to a dog in New York. I got several details about dog fighting from an article in the Chicago Sun Times (email me if you'd like to read it) and my statistics about the number of animals euthanized per year are from the Humane Society's webpage (http://www.hsus.org). Please support your local animal shelter and spay or neuter your pet. Thanks.
-ks