Bare Bones

“You’re right. Exercise.”

Scrambling to my feet, I climbed to my bedroom and changed into running gear. When I returned to the kitchen and unpegged Boyd’s leash, the chow went berserk.

“Sit.”

Boyd attempted a sudden stop, lost his balance, and slid into a table leg.

I did my short route up Radcliffe, over to Freedom Park, a loop around the lake, then back down Queens Road West. Boyd padded along, now and then suggesting stops at points that held particular canine allure.

We ran through a late-August afternoon of young mothers pushing toddlers in strollers, of old men walking old dogs, of kids throwing Frisbees and footballs and riding on bikes.

The hot, heavy day made me acutely aware of sound. I heard leaves whispering in the slight breeze. A child’s swing moving back and forth in the park. A lone frog. Geese overhead. A siren.

Though I stayed vigilant, I saw no sign of a cameraman, heard no shutter click. I was grateful for Boyd’s company.

By the time we got back to Sharon Hall I was soaked with sweat and my heart rate was somewhere in the seven hundreds. Boyd’s tongue hung from the side of his mouth like a thin slice of flank steak.

To cool down I allowed Boyd to sniff the grounds at his pace. The chow trotted from bush to tree to flower bed, perfecting his sniffsquirt-and-cover routine, now and then stopping for more in-depth snuffling and peeing.

In keeping with my new fitness campaign, dinner consisted of a large salad, fresh produce courtesy of Andrew Ryan. Boyd had brown nuggets.

By ten I was starving. I’d just dug yogurt, carrots, and celery from the fridge when the phone rang.

“Still think I’m the most handsome, intelligent, and exciting man on the planet?”

“You’re dazzling, Ryan.”

The sound of his voice perked my spirits. Grinning like a kid, I took a bite of carrot.

“What are you eating?”

“Carrots.”

“Since when do you eat raw veggies?”

“Carrots are good for you.”

“Really?”

“Good for the eyes.”

“If carrots are so good for the eyes, how come I see so many dead rabbits on the road?”

“Is your niece OK?”

“Nothing’s OK. This kid and her mother make the Osbourne family look normal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But it’s not hopeless. I think they’re listening. Shouldn’t be but a couple more days here. I’ve been thinking of putting in for a third week of vacation.”

“Oh?” My grin now sent sparkles into the air.

Boyd carried a mouthful of nuggets from his bowl and dropped them on my foot.

“I’ve got some unfinished business in Charlotte.”

“Really?” I shook my foot. The slimed-out nuggets slid to the floor. Boyd ate them.

“Personal business.”

My stomach was too grossed out by the nuggets to flip. But it took notice of the comment.

“How’s Hooch?”

“He’s fine.”

“Any developments on the privy bones?”

I described my sortie to Columbia.

“?Caramba! A road trip with Skinny.”

“The man is a Neanderthal.”

“See any dead rabbits?”

“The anthropology department secretary said Cagle had a visitor she didn’t know, short guy with dark hair. Looper also spotted Cagle with a stranger.”

“Same description?”

“Roughly. Though Looper emphasized the fact that the guy was gorgeous. Saw him as competition.”

“That happens to me a lot.”

“The secretary didn’t indicate Cagle’s visitor was particularly good-looking.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”