Sampyre: On the Edge of Barkness

By Aaron G. Paul

Is the legendary El Fuego Negro, the protector of the forest, for real? Or is the strange new neighbor a threat to them? Whats going on in the forest? Can Sampyre and Gingerella, Sam and Gingers super hero alter egos, figure out the mysteries?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504951869

Aaron G. Paul

Growing up with asthma and severe allergies in rural Southern Michigan, Aaron was not able to have any pets. He and his wife didn’t get Jet, their first dog, until he was thirty-five years old. From that day forward, Aaron knew that he wanted to work in a field related to animal care and well-being. Five years later, Aaron and his wife, Robynn, were living in Northern Arizona, and Aaron got a job with a limited-admission animal-care facility in Flagstaff. Throughout his first year working as an adoptions counselor, Aaron learned a lot about dogs and cats and the world of animal care in general. Finding the homeless and unwanted animals permanent homes and responsible pet parents brings much joy to Aaron’s life. Some of the animals Aaron got to know over the last year, he uses as characters in these stories. The stories Aaron writes are designed not only to entertain but also to educate and start a discussion about the state of animal welfare. As homeless and stray dog and cat populations skyrocket into the millions, Aaron’s hopes are that people will start giving shelters that ever important first look before electing to buy from a breeder. Aaron and his wife, Robynn, currently reside in Northern Arizona with their three dogs—Jet, Sam, and Penny. When he’s not working, Aaron enjoys writing and playing music and getting involved in community theater.

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© 2015 Aaron G. Paul. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 09/25/2015

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015915917

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5185-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5186-9 (e)

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Dogs are minor angels, and I don’t mean that facetiously. They love unconditionally, forgive immediately, are the truest of friends, willing to do anything that makes us happy, etc. If we attributed just some of those qualities to a person, we would say they are special. If they had ALL of them, we would call them angelic. But because it’s only a dog, we dismiss them as sweet or funny, but little more. However, when you think about it, what are the things that we most like in another human being? Many times those qualities are seen in our dogs every single day—we’re just so used to them that we pay no attention.

--Jonathan Carroll

Contents

The Dog

The Hero

The Job

The Legend

The Forest

The Benson House

The Discovery

The Doctor

The Park

The Meeting

The Transaction

The Punishment

The Darkness

The Drive

The Aftermath

The Path

The Plan

The Dilemma

The Battle

The Reunion

The Confrontation

The Return

The Conclusion

SAMPYRE: IN A WORLD OF BARKNESS

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For Robynn

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The Dog

Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.

--Orhan Pamuk

The lightning flashed all around the dog again, but this time, the thunder was immediate and filled the atmosphere around her. She wasn’t quite as concerned with the deluge of rain or the sky becoming bright with electricity, but the thunder frightened her severely. The dog tried to get to her dog house, which was only a few flimsy sheets of particle board held together in some places with gray duct tape, but her effort was in vain. A large tree limb had broken off of the old willow tree (due to the vicious wind) and landed directly on top of the rope that was attached to the dog’s neck. The poorly built dog house would have offered little refuge anyways. It was not built to keep rain out or to prevent damaging wind from blowing it away, and this brutal thunderstorm was having its way with the shelter. The dog watched, helpless, as the driving rain created small rivers in the mud. Her copper-colored fur was completely soaked from rain and mud. She was frozen to the bone. All of her barking, whimpering, yelping, and pleas for help fell on deaf ears from her owner.

She could barely stand up and had little room to move, with the weight of the heavy tree limb on the rope that was connected uncomfortably to her neck. It seemed to be getting tighter and tighter with every tug and pull she could muster to escape from its constriction. Her energy fading and continuing on from adrenaline and fear alone, her only hope for freedom from the cold rain and the frightening, incredibly intense thunder, was to try and get her owners attention by barking. She focused her full attention towards the house her owner lived in. She saw that the lights were on in the house. That generally meant her owner was not only home, but still awake. This gave her hope that each and every bark she directed at the house would get the attention of her savior, her owner. There were no neighbors nearby, like the place she used to live. This house was solitary among the trees. The long hours she spent in the shade from the old willow tree were made even longer since she did not have a neighborhood to watch anymore. It was just the tree, the shade and the dirt. It was a miserable existence, but one that disappeared the instant her owner occasionally came out to put food in her bowl or water in her dish. Eventually, the joy would diminish, no matter how hard she tried to make it linger.

The mud was now 2 or 3 inches deep and every step she took not only extracted more energy from her, but created thoughts of becoming stuck and immobile. This resulted in even more fear, more desperation. Her constant, incessant barking was beginning to hurt her throat. The last time she barked this much, her owner came out and hit her to make her stop. That time it was from an empty stomach. Surely her owner wouldn’t strike her if the barking was to get his attention to rescue her, right? Cold, wet, scared and desperate, the dog kept up her barking towards the light from the window in the house. Her owner had to hear the racket she was making, and at this point, she did not care if she got beaten, as long as she could get to her dog house and out of the elements. The thunder crashed again, right above the copper-colored mixed breed this time. She let out a yelp of pain from fright, even though she did not get hit by anything. The storm terrified her, but she didn’t give up. One more bark should do it! Maybe this one. Maybe this one. Maybe this one! Then she saw him—she saw her owner walk in front of the light in the house! It worked! She knew a beating was coming from getting his attention and making him come outside on a night like this. It was totally worth it, she thought, not only to be removed from the quicksand-like mud, but also to have the branch pulled off of her rope so she could breathe again and to be in her dog house, out of the freezing cold rain and treacherous thunder. Saved! Another terrifying flash of lightning brightened the night sky and the thunder cracked, growled and rolled. She was petrified with fear and urine escaped her fragile bladder, but she did not want to show this fear to her owner. What kind of dog was she? Her eyes were wide with fright, but still she knew her owner would come get her. He hadn’t forgotten about her… had he?

The dog kept her focus on the light coming from the window of the old house. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. This home was not like her old home. She missed her old home. It was warm and cozy and she wasn’t kept on a rope in the backyard all the time. There was a little girl that loved her and played with her. The little girl would dress the dog up and have a tea party with her—but that was when she was a puppy. She loved every minute of it! The dog would chase the little girl around in the yard and nip at her heels while she squealed and giggled the whole time. Then she would collapse on the ground with laughter and the dog would pounce on her and lick her little rosy-red cheeks. The little girl’s mother would watch from the porch with a big smile on her face. At night, instead of sleeping on dirt with a rope around her neck, the dog would sleep on a plush pillow, right next to the little girl’s bed and the little girl would read from a story book to her until they both got tired and fell asleep. And every night like clockwork, the little puppy would climb up into the little girl’s bed and that’s where she’d stay until the morning. Memories were all the dog had now to keep her warm at night, but this night in particular, thoughts of the past were like embers in a campfire about to expire.

She was so tired. Hungry and tired. And frozen to the bone from the harsh wind and lashing rain. Her barks were coming few and far between and the hope she had of her owner coming out to help her was vanishing quickly. Her neck was raw and sore from the rope crudely tied around it and made uncomfortably tighter from the desperate pulling and tugging to be released from it. But there he was again! Her owner! Still inside, but she saw him pass by the lighted window again! He hadn’t forgotten! Her spirit rejuvenated from sighting her master, and she began barking again. It was painful--dreadfully painful--but she knew it was now or never. If he didn’t come out to pull the tree branch off her rope and guide her into the inside of her poor dwellings now, she was worried she may not be alive to see the morning light. This bark will do it. This bark will do it! This one right here—this bark will surely gain his attention! Nearly out of energy and hope, and sinking deeper and deeper into the mud, and gasping for air with each labored breath and bark, she saw the light in the window go out. No light. No owner. No rescue. With all she had left in her, she managed a couple more feeble barks, but to no avail. No one was coming to help her. Not her owner. Not the little girl. No one. She was completely alone. Cold--freezing cold--and getting colder, hungry, in complete darkness, devoid of hope, she knew this was the end.

But she couldn’t give up. She could not. It wasn’t in her genetic make-up to just lie down and submit to the elements and nature. She turned on the rope and began chewing-- and gnawing and biting and chewing some more. She chewed so much and so furiously that blood formed in her mouth. But she couldn’t stop. She could not give up. She imagined that she was back home as a puppy with the little girl and chewing a rawhide treat she would periodically get. They were so tasty. The little girl and her mother and father would watch the little puppy chew and chew and chew at the rawhide and take great enjoyment from it. But not as much enjoyment as the little puppy had from gnawing and spending hours doing so. The dog knew the rope was not a rawhide, but it had been so long since she received any kind of treat or special attention that her imagination took control and she forced herself to believe she was chewing rawhide. Not having anything in her belly for a few days helped her mouth water even more as she savored every chomp of the dirty, old, mud-soaked rope. But she had to get to the shelter of her horrible little dog house if she was to survive the night. She knew that she may still feel some rain and some wind while inside the awful box, but it would be much, much less than what she was experiencing at the current moment.

Another crack of terrifying thunder blasted her ears with unexpected might. The dog yelped with fright and she peed a little more, but kept the rope in her mouth. She was so tired, and now her jaw was becoming sore and her mouth hurt and the taste of blood was disheartening, but she knew this was her only chance at survival. The wind picked up and blew her around so much she fell down. Normally sure footed and strong, the lack of food for a few days and the harsh weather had weakened her so. She was much thinner than she used to be and that did not help her fight against the wind at all. But with every bite, with every gnaw, with every chomp and chew and with every thought that she was enjoying rawhide instead of nasty, dirty rope, she kept her focus on her dog house. It was definitely getting thinner and thinner—she hadn’t much further to go. If she was as strong and healthy as she was a year ago, she would have been through the rope in no time at all. But she was shaking from the cold and starving. Each bite of the rope came with more and more effort. It was definitely thinner where she was chewing, but she was getting so tired that she just wanted to sleep now. The thoughts were strong now of just wanting to lay down for a few minutes and sleep in the rain and mud and wind and start chewing through the rope later—but she knew those thoughts were poisonous.

She was indeed done. The poisonous thoughts prevailed and she laid down in the mud. Every-thing around her became dark and hazy. She felt the wind drive the rain into her, but she was so tired. The dog had put up an incredible fight against the elements that humans would have succumbed to them much sooner than she. Her breathing became slow and she blinked her eyes. Thoughts of the little girl did not warm her this time, but comforted her. Disappointment that she was merely feet away from the safety of her dog house washed over her, but she was so tired that she did not care. She wasn’t sure if the black shape was dream or reality. She was confused. As the thoughts all rolled around in her head of the little girl and her owner and her dog house and even thoughts of being a puppy still with her mother, a sharp tugging pulled at the rope around her neck. More tugging, and more still. The dog was almost upset that her peace in dying was being disturbed by this giant black shape. Suddenly, a pop, and a great swell of relief came from her neck! She stopped blinking her eyes temporarily to see what was really going on and shook her head to gain a better grasp on the reality of the situation. It was still completely dark, but she could sense a dark shape close to her. Then she heard a low rumble, a growl. Fear set in immediately, but fear was good because it meant she was still alive and not yet wanting to go permanently to where all her happy thoughts were pulling her. She managed to get back on her feet again and, with much effort, put one paw in front of the other in the deep mud. She turned to look behind her to see if the dark shape was still there, but there was nothing but more darkness and rain and wind. Was she dreaming? She was dreaming. She was the one who chewed through the rope…right?

These were all thoughts that she could now contemplate in the safety of her dog house. Exhausted, she took another step toward the dog house just as she heard a loud crack from above. This sound was not thunder—this was different. As she instinctively jumped backwards, clear out of the mud, as tired as she was, it was a split second before another larger branch came rushing straight down from high up on the old willow tree and obliterated her dog house. Her sanctuary was no more. The focus of all her energy in the last few minutes was to get to the shelter of her dog house, and now it was gone. It was flattened before her as if it was made of paper, which wasn’t too far from the truth, but it was her one and only way out of the storm. However, she also knew that if she had chewed through her rope any sooner and gained access to the dog house that she, too, may be as flat as a pancake now. And she was still a little foggy about if it was actually her or something else that freed her from her rope imprisonment.

A huge crack of thunder rattled the earth beneath her. She instantly bolted into the woods just behind her poor dog house. She ran. She just ran and ran and ran. She wasn’t sure if she was going in circles or not, but she just knew she had to escape the thunder, and the only way she knew how was to run away from it. She had no energy, no hope, and no more home. She knew that this night would eventually be her last—she had nothing left to give—or live for. She was forgotten about, neglected and alone and was sure that she would spend her last night on earth just that way.

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The Hero

The capacity for love that makes dogs such rewarding companions has a flipside; They find it difficult to cope without us. Since we humans programmed this vulnerability, it’s our responsibility to ensure that our dogs do not suffer as a result.

--John Bradshaw

Sam was a three year old yellow Labrador Retriever. Like most Labs, Sam had more energy than a hyper-active 5 year old child. He wasn’t a very large dog—only about 70 pounds—and being that size made him run as fast as a greyhound. He loved to play fetch—it was probably his most favorite game in the entire world. The only other thing Sam loved to do besides play fetch and run as fast as a greyhound was that he sure did love to eat. He was a vacuum cleaner/garbage disposal when it came time to be fed. This is a fairly common trait among Retrievers, and Sam was certainly no exception.

The only really distinguishable feature about Sam was his pink nose. Most dogs, including Labs, have black noses. Sam’s nose was pink and very fair. It certainly didn’t bother him at all, and was probably overlooked by most people, but nevertheless, his nose was still pink, and Aaron couldn’t care any less about it.

Sam jumped upon Aaron’s bed well before his alarm was to go off, and immediately began licking his face. Aaron was, of course, Sam’s Dad. Now, there is a difference between being a parent and being just an owner of a pet, but that will be touched upon later. Right now, Sam was hungry and this was the way Sam woke Aaron up every morning to get his belly full. While Aaron tried to deflect Sam’s tongue in a futile effort to stay asleep for just a few more minutes, he seriously began to wonder why he even set an alarm in the first place. But he always changed his mind rather quickly about the shower of kisses raining down mercilessly upon him because he knew there could be much worse ways in this world to be woken up, he thought to himself. Sam was indeed like clockwork, every morning, whether it was weekday or weekend. His belly had an automatic timer in it and when it went off, then it was time to attack his dad with kisses until Aaron got out of bed to quiet the hungry monster living in Sam’s belly. Aaron honestly couldn’t even remember what his alarm sounded like anymore because he hadn’t heard it in such a long time. He thought it was a Grateful Dead song—Peggy-O? Scarlet Begonias? Before Aaron had the Yellow Alarm Clock, he would always wake up to a Grateful Dead tune. Such a peaceful and very un-stressful way to wake in the morning. The only better way to wake up in the morning was, of course, to have his Yellow Alarm Clock assault him with kisses.

Alright, alright, I’m getting up, I’m getting up! Aaron said as he threw his comforter back, sat up and fumbled around with his feet to put his slippers on. He yawned and stretched and told Sam good morning as the yellow dog bounded and jumped continuously from the bed to the floor until Aaron got up. Sam knew where Aaron kept the dog food and led him down the hall from his bedroom to the laundry room, just in case he forgot. The whole time Sam kept jumping and bouncing and running circles around Aaron until they got into the laundry room. Every morning and every evening at suppertime, Sam was just like a child on Christmas morning. And every morning and every evening at suppertime, Aaron loved it. Having a dog that took such joy and excitement from a simple everyday pleasure, such as eating, helped Aaron to put and keep things in his life in proper perspective, and not get too worried about much of anything.

Aaron opened the closet door in the laundry room and began scooping food into the bowls. Again, just like clockwork, Aaron’s other Lab, Jet, came strolling in with a gaping yawn. Morning, Jet. Aaron said. Sam ran to Jet and greeted him with a soft bite around his neck. Every morning Sam would greet Jet the same way at breakfast time and every morning Jet would return Sam’s mouthy greeting with his get back growl/howl. Jet was Aaron’s five year old black Labrador Retriever. Jet was Aaron’s first dog he ever owned and he didn’t get Jet until he was 35. Aaron grew up with a mild case of Asthma and being around dogs and cats and hay or straw or freshly cut grass would cause him to start wheezing and make it difficult to breathe. Therefore, pets were out of the question as a kid growing up. As he got older, though, the effects of dogs and cats and hay and straw and grass lessened. When he turned 35, he thought it was time to finally get a dog, and Jet was the best dog ever. Doing his research before getting Jet, Aaron found out that one of the best dogs to get if never having a dog before is a Labrador Retriever. They are so eager to please and gentle and friendly and smart and good indoor dogs and great outdoor dogs. Jet turned out to be the perfect starter dog for Aaron. He enjoyed the experience of raising Jet so much, Aaron went and found another Lab to adopt--Sam. But the two dogs couldn’t be any more opposite.

Jet and Sam were like Yin and Yang. Sam was the busybody, non-stop, high energy dog and Jet was the lazy, couch potato, turd. Jet was black—Sam was white (well, technically he was yellow, but for the purpose of the illustration…). Jet was a little bit heavier than Sam, maybe 75 pounds, but as gentle as they come. Before Sam, Aaron would walk Jet downtown and they couldn’t get more than 50 feet before someone would stop them and want to pet Jet, and he loved it. Even mothers pushing strollers with their infants in them would stop to pet Jet and Jet would stick his nose in the stroller and give kisses to the baby. He would sit whenever anyone told him to and also shake hands with people when asked. People loved Jet, but not as much as Jet loved people. Sam, on the other hand, just wanted Aaron to throw his ball or Frisbee or tug, or whatever was in his mouth at the time. Sam didn’t care about people—he just cared about playing! But the two of them, Jet and Sam, got along together like brothers. Perhaps the only thing the two of them had in common, besides eating, was water. Oh, how they loved to swim! Fortunately, Aaron lived not far from a lake, and nearly every weekend Aaron would take them swimming. Labs love the water and Jet and Sam were no exception. Sam made Aaron throw his tennis ball or racquet ball in the water for him to fetch and retrieve while Jet would continuously swim in circles until Aaron had to call him to come in. They would always sleep well the night after a good swim. Aaron could tell, because of the way Jet snored. Normally, Jet snored loud anyways, but the night after a swim, he’d snore so loud the windows would rattle and scare Sam!

Aaron filled both of their bowls, made them sit and shake, then put their breakfast before them. On each of their last birthdays, Aaron got them each a metal bowl with their name engraved on it. He didn’t have trouble telling them apart, he just loved them enough to do little things for them. Jet and Sam were his boys, his kids, and he treated them as such. Aaron watched as Sam wolfed his kibble down in just a few bites and sniffed around for more while Jet took his time and enjoyed each bite. Sam shot out of the laundry room when he was finished, and into the kitchen through the doggie door to go outside. Aaron waited patiently for Jet to finish and when he had, he knelt down and hugged Jet with a great big morning hug. He kissed him between his eyes and rubbed his soft, velvety ears. Jet was still licking his lips, but he closed his eyes and took great pleasure in having his ears rubbed. Aaron gave Jet another kiss between the eyes and got up. He led Jet out of the laundry room and into the kitchen where the doggie door was. Jet went through the door to do his morning business. Aaron noticed how wet it was outside and remembered sleeping soundly the other night through the thunderstorm.

Aaron walked back down the hallway to his bedroom to get dressed for work. Sam was all curled up under the blankets on the bed where Aaron had been sleeping. He couldn’t have been there for more than ten minutes but was already sleeping peacefully. Unfortunately, this was another of Sam’s bad habits that Aaron didn’t find quite so charming.

You little creep. Aaron said lovingly. Sam opened his eyes slowly like he’d been sleeping there all night, and seemingly smiled at Aaron. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be on Aaron’s bed, but it was always so warm, Sam couldn’t resist himself. Sam slowly got up and stretched deliberately on the bed and then slid off the bed even slower.

Come on, go. Aaron said. Sam meandered out of Aaron’s bedroom, walked down the hall and jumped up on the couch in the living room to lay next to Jet’s spot.

Aaron made his bed and tried to brush away as much of Sam’s yellow hair off his pillow as he could. His alarm finally went off and it was a Grateful Dead tune—Sugar Magnolia. Instead of turning it off, Aaron let it play and picked up a picture off his nightstand of himself and his fiancée Robynn. It was Aaron’s favorite picture of the two of them overlooking the Grand Canyon. Tonight was going to be a big night for Aaron—not only was Robynn coming over for her favorite meal—eggplant parmesan—it was also the night he planned on proposing to her. Although Aaron had never undertaken such an endeavor before (making eggplant parmesan), he was considerably more nervous about the whole proposal. He sat on the edge of his bed and opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out the little, brown, fuzzy box that held his future. On the one hand, he was quite certain Robynn would accept his proposal of marriage—they had been together for a little more than a year and neither one had ever been happier. But on the other hand, there was always that little nugget of doubt swirling around in the back of his head that kept telling him he was a moron and shouldn’t mess with a good thing. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, He always heard people say, and he believed this, but he also believed that to get from one place to another in life, there has to be risk involved.

Aaron looked at the tiny diamond on the ring as he sat there on the edge of his bed by the night-stand. Will she like it? Hate it? Dismiss it? Is it big enough? It’s too small, right? Thoughts of victory and defeat and success and failure all jumbled together in his head. Rather than letting doubt cloud his mind, he quickly shut the little brown fuzzy box and put it back in his nightstand. He knew it was the right thing to do and the right time to do it. He’d have plenty of time at work to muster up the courage and just the right words to say. He shut off his alarm, but then turned it back on again and sat and listened to the end—it was Sugar Magnolia--Not just any song -- and then he got dressed for work.

As Aaron walked out into the living room, he petted and kissed his boys as they were sound asleep on the couch. He always kissed Sam on that soft spot right above his eyes, and kissed Jet right between his eyes. This, too, was an every morning ritual. For all Aaron knew, Jet and Sam slept on the couch all day long with periodic breaks to drink some water and go outside to relieve themselves. He grabbed his wallet, keys, and ipod (to listen to the Grateful Dead all day, of course) and left for work at the post office. Sam jumped down from the couch after he heard Aaron shut his car door. He jumped up on the ottoman strategically placed by Aaron just in front of the windows by the front door. Aaron put the ottoman there specifically for the purpose that his boys could look out the window if they get bored. Sam watched expressionless as Aaron backed down the driveway. Aaron saw this and waved to Sam with a smile, even though Sam continued his expressionless stare. Aaron drove off and Sam quickly jumped back down and went to Jet who was still sleeping and snoring.

You wanna come out with me and Ginger today? Sam asked Jet. Ginger was Sam’s cat friend and Jet was not interested.

Without opening his eyes, Jet replied, You ask me that every day, Sam. And every day, what do I tell you?

No.

There you go.

What if I take your little purple fish from you? Sam asked. The only toy Jet played with was an old, dirty, purple squeaky plush fish. And Sam knew it meant a lot to Jet.

I’d like to see you try and take it from me. Jet replied with a low growl. Sam quickly returned to the subject at hand.

Oh, come on, Said Sam, You’re only 2 years older than me, but you act like a hundred years older than me!

That’s two years wiser. Jet said. Have fun with your girlfriend.

Sam hesitated for a moment processing what Jet just told him. "She’s not my girlfriend! Sam demanded. She’s just a friend."

Whatever! said Jet. And he began snoring again before Sam could come up with a snappy comeback. Irritated, Sam went into the kitchen and out through the doggie door. As close as he and Jet were, Sam always wished Jet would show a little more initiative when it came time to play. True, Sam did ask Jet to come out and play with him and Ginger every day, and every day Jet would deny him. Sam felt sorry for Jet because all he did all day long was lay on the couch and sleep. The only time Sam saw Jet become active was when Aaron took them to the lake to swim and, well, that was about it. Sam thought he was actually doing Jet a favor by inviting him along to go play outside, but he always felt like he was really just annoying Jet. That didn’t stop Sam from asking every day, though. Sam knew that sooner or later the old dog would join he and Ginger in their misadventures one day.

Ginger was waiting for Sam at the top of the fence in the back yard. The fenced in part of Aaron’s backyard was not large by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a gate at the back that opened up into National Forest land. This is where Aaron would take Jet and Sam to play with them. The forest was large and dense and a playground for the boys. Ginger was a mature calico cat with no owner. She was a stray, but liked it that way. She started hanging around Aaron’s back door about a year ago, from who knows where, and Aaron would leave some food out for her. He had never had a cat before and was always fascinated by them, so this was his chance to really have a good look at one. Unfortunately, Ginger was not very friendly with people, but she got along perfectly with Sam. Ginger was extremely street smart and had a pretty big attitude. She was always condescending to Sam and sarcastic, but Sam didn’t know any better. She was someone who was just as energetic and adventurous as he was, and that’s all that mattered.

You ready to go to work? Ginger asked as she nonchalantly licked a paw and groomed herself. She was never truly on the level with Sam, but enjoyed his company, nonetheless. To her, Sam was young, wild, energetic and dumb. He was someone to do adventurous things with, but also someone that she knew she was intellectually superior to. They worked well together and cooperated nicely with each other. They complimented each other quite well.

You’re not my girlfriend. Are you? Sam asked with innocence. Dogs and cats can’t be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? This threw Ginger. She wasn’t expecting a greeting like that this morning. She stopped grooming herself to choose her words carefully.

Well, she began, "I am a girl. And I am your friend. So, guess that makes me your girlfriend." She smiled as she looked at the confused look on Sam’s face and continued grooming herself.

"I think I’d like it better if I was just your boyfriend. said Sam, trying to wrap his head around this delicate and confusing situation. I don’t want others to know you’re my girlfriend. Gross!" Sam grumbled something under his breath about Jet for putting this ridiculous idea in his head.

Ginger laughed. You got it, Sampyre. You’re my boyfriend.

Sam thought about that for a second or two and did not like how that made him feel. He was only three years old—girls were the grossest thing on the planet to him. But in all actuality, the only female he knew on the planet was standing on the fence right in front of him, and he got along terrifically with her. He was so confused.

Okay. Sam said. Just don’t call me your boyfriend. That’s gross, too.

Getting bored quickly of the whole boyfriend/girlfriend conversation, Ginger said, How about I call you a big wimp? She smiled. We got a job to do, Loverboy. Are you ready?

Am I ready? Sam said indignantly. He sat up straight and looked Ginger straight in the eyes. I am Sampyre! Ruler of the night! On the edge of Barkness!

And I am Gingerella! Ginger replied with fervor. Mistress of the Night! And Girlfriend of Sampyre!

Sam groaned. You just ruined it, Gingerella! He groaned again for good measure.

The whole Sampyre and Gingerella thing was fairly new. More often than not, when the two of them were out and about during the afternoon, they would eventually run into some friends—whether it was Tess and Maddie, the two Great Danes who lived close to Aaron, or down the road where more friends lived, like Jack the Corgi or Cinnamon the German Shepard. But they were always losing a favorite toy and Sam was excellent at finding their lost treasures. He and Ginger became so good at finding their friends’ lost toys that they decided to come up with names that fit their awesome skills of finding stuff. Sam became Sampyre, On the Edge of Barkness! And Ginger became Gingerella, Mistress of the Night! When Sam told Jet what he and Ginger were doing and tried to get him to join them, he just laughed and went back to sleep. It hurt Sam’s feelings at the time, but that soon grew into feelings of sadness for Jet and his do-nothing lifestyle.

Oh, so what? laughed Ginger. It’s not even close to evening, yet. It’s like seven o’clock in the morning! Sam questioned Ginger’s commitment to the bit, but usually let it slide because he had so much fun doing it.

Okay, whatever. Sam said. What’s our top secret mission tonight, Gingerella?

This morning.

You know what I mean. Stop killing the moment.

Ginger sighed. You’re not going to like this, but Tess and Maddie are looking for their Frisbee. Again.

Again? Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. That’s like the third time this week. And they probably buried it in the same place again. They always do.

Sam and Jet practically grew up with Tess and Maddie. When Aaron moved into his house, about a quarter mile down the road, Steve and Debbie had two large Great Danes that were super sweet and nice and gentle. Steve and Debbie were a little older than Aaron, but turned out to be the best neighbors he could’ve ever asked for. They were quiet, friendly and loved their dogs as much, if not more, than Aaron loved his boys. At least once a week Aaron would take his boys to go play with Tess and Maddie while he chatted with Steve about the local goings on. Jet would always eventually find a corner of Steve and Debbie’s backyard to curl up on and take a nap. Sam would continue to play with Tess and Maddie and listen to their wild and crazy tales about the forest and the types of strange things that lived in it. Sam was pretty sure they were just trying to mess with him, but they seemed convinced of all the tall tales they told. One of the things Tess and Maddie were notorious for was burying their toys and almost immediately forgetting where they buried them. Sam just chalked it up to being a Great Dane Thing.

Isn’t there anything else we can do today? asked a frustrated Sam. "Sampyre can’t keep using his incredible powers of finding stuff on Tess and Maddie all the time. Has anyone we know been dog-napped or run off scared because of fireworks, or something?"

Not that I know of. Ginger said as she resumed her daily grooming.

"Nothing at all? I’m so bored!" Sam said as he dramatically fell to the ground like he had just been shot. Ginger smiled at Sam’s dramatics. This is what she liked about Sam. She began to say something, but chose to hold it back.

What? Asked Sam jumping back up and standing at full attention.

What? Asked Ginger. I didn’t say anything.

"Yeah, but you were going to. I can tell."

Ginger sighed and against her better judgment decided to throw Sam a bone. "Well, there is something…"

Sam jumped and ran in a circle with excitement. He had absolutely no clue as to what Ginger was about to tell him, but already he was more excited than for breakfast or dinner.

What? What is it? What do you got?

Aww, it’s probably nothing. Never mind. Ginger knew this response would draw another dramatic action from Sam. She was teasing him and loved every minute of it. Actually, this tease had a little bit of truth to it, but Ginger did not want to let on that it could amount to anything substantial.

Don’t do that, Gingerella! Sam said as he kept jumping and bouncing and wagging his tail. "It’s something big isn’t it? This is gonna be our biggest case ever!" Sam nearly did an entire backwards flip he was so excited. Ginger was eating all of his actions up.

I don’t know, Sampyre, Ginger said still trying to get Sam to react. Maybe I’m just crazy.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me!" Sam demanded with a smile.

Well… Began Ginger finally letting her pal off the hook. She decided he had suffered long enough. Sometimes she would just string him along all day with the idea of going on some grand adventure and then revealing at the end of the day there wasn’t anything to do in the first place. It was mean, and Ginger knew it was, but she relished