10/14/10: Way to shame me into updating again by commenting, people who comment! (Seriously, though, hi, welcome, and pull up one of the splintery old orange crates that we use for seating 'round these parts seein' as we can't afford no fancy chairs.)

The rules from
here still apply.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Out With The Boys

Jim locked the door behind them and shouldered the pooper-scooper. "Okay, boys," he said, "off we go."

Most days he walked the dogs right after getting off work; they had a backyard to run around in, but he still felt guilty if he couldn't find time to take them out. Prince was a mutt with a touch of German Shepherd, and Cookie was a good-sized Lab. Between the two of them, they added up to rather a lot of doggy energy.

Now, as they set off for their nightly jaunt, the sky was just starting to go golden as the sun wandered toward the horizon. There was a slight breeze blowing, a bit cool, but still pleasant enough as it rustled through the trees. Jim more or less let the dogs lead the way, keeping an eye out for cars and other concerns, but not otherwise paying much attention.

Eventually they wound up by the lake. He found himself smiling as they walked along its shore. This was a good place, maybe his favorite place in the world. He'd spent a lot of time here since moving in to his current house; the fishing wasn't bad in the summer, and the scenery was gorgeous just about all year 'round. It had been miserable, rainy weather the last few days, so the trees were looking bedraggled, but that lake itself was a sight to behold, with the sunset sky reflected in its gently rippling surface.

They stopped maybe twenty feet back from the lake, Prince and Cookie snuffling around the base of a good-sized oak, and Jim took the opportunity to watch a few birds flit lazily about the bushes by the little fishing dock. Then something caught his eye, and he frowned. It looked like someone had dumped a bag of trash in the lake. But who around here would do something like that...?

"Hold up, guys," he said, and made his way to the dock, dragging both dogs behind him. He still couldn't make out whatever that was floating by one of the dock supports... a bag of trash? But it didn't look like that so much as like a bunch of old rags... or...

"Holy God," Jim breathed, stopping up short. Cookie nosed about a nearby tree, but Prince had caught wind of his owner's change in mood -- or maybe just the source of that change -- and whined, ears laid flat. "Holy God," Jim repeated. Then he abruptly turned and gave the leashes a sharp tug. "Come on, guys," he said, casting a glance back at the body floating in the lake. "Back to the house. I've got a phone call to make."

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