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First and Ten; Part 7 By Nancy Cole Chapter Twenty Two I had but one day to myself with which to sort through the handful of dung my visit to Khalje and Aaron's latest revelations had left me holding and prepare myself, psychologically, for a week that promised to be as fun and exciting as a root canal. In the process of doing so, I found myself beginning to regard Brer Rabbit in a whole new light. When he took on the tar baby, he really hadn't been the silly sod the tale made him out to be. I think he'd actually been working for the Federal Government. Ever so slowly, as I sat on my settee watching the Giants slug it out with Miami in the mud of Wembley Stadium while working my way through a box of Crunch 'n Munch, I came to realize that there had been more behind the FBI's desire to recruit me than I'd originally given them credit for. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only student in Professor Lange's class who was a vet. To someone like Special Agent Moore, that alone proved that I was a loyal American, was disciplined and had a demonstrated ability to hold my own in difficult situations. I imagine they were betting that unlike their previous efforts at recruiting students, I wouldn't go native on them. That thought caused me to grunt. Fat chance of that happening. I also began to understand why they'd been handling me as they had. It was more than routine operational security and institutional paranoia. It was their way of protecting me. As Aaron kept telling me, coming across as being too smart could very well prove to be more dangerous than stumbling and bumbling my way forward step by painful step, a mode I was proving to be quite good at. Even I found myself having to admit that up to this point, ignorance had actually been my best friend. Instead of responding to Dr. Khalje and Megan in a smooth, calculated fashion, all my responses had been spontaneous and genuine. Having already survived multiple efforts by the FBI to infiltrate his little circle, Khalje was, no doubt, on his guard. He'd be a fool if he wasn't leery of someone new like me. His need to make any new comer jump through all sorts of hoops until they'd proven their loyalty to him was just as critical to the success of whatever it was he was planning as it was for the FBI to make sure no one could make a connection between me and them if they had any hope of stopping him. It was a very real game of cat and mouse, one which required me, the mouse, to snuggle up to the cat. A shudder ran through me as I thought about what I'd need to do in the next few weeks to gain Khalje's trust and confidence. Still not sure if I could deal with that, I turned my thoughts to other, more immediate concerns. At the moment, that was Megan. Despite everything that Aaron had shared with me about her, I still found the very thought of Megan to be intoxicating. Even now, I could close my eyes and picture her warming, beguiling smile as she hovered above me, pinning my wrists against the bed with her hands as she gently brought her delicate elfin frame down upon me. There'd been no wild lunging or frenzied struggle. With an ease and grace that was unmatched by anything my vivid imagination could have conjured, we'd made love. And I had enjoyed it, every exquisite second of it. Ever so slowly, memories of what had been were replaced with an appreciation that rather than being a distraction or a hazard, my foolish one night fling with Megan and her desire to maintain a relationship with me could be turned into an advantage. She could very well be the key to this whole, sorted mess I'd managed to get myself into, I found myself thinking. Done right, and with the same finesse that she'd used to seduce me, I could use her to unlock what Khalje was up to. That I was in process of trying to figure out how I could manipulate another human being in the same way I was being manipulated didn't bother me near as much as I think it should have. I would have preferred to think it was Aaron's warning about Hafiz that helped me overcome any reservations about doing so. Truth was, the real reason I had no regrets over the issue were far baser. Megan had betrayed the trust and love I'd so willing given her, leaving me with a primitive urge to return the favor. Was I proud of that? No. But neither was I going to waste any time beating myself up over it either. The world could be a cold, hard place. I'd learned that the hard way in Iraq and Afghanistan. People had to protect themselves, which sometimes left them with no other choice but to hurt others. The infantry platoon sergeant I'd been assigned to in Afghanistan had a unique way of putting it. Every time we'd be sent out on a mission, he liked to remind us of his own version of the golden rule. "Remember people," he'd yell out over the whine of the Blackhawk's engines as it was making its decent into an LZ, "Do unto others before the bastards do it to you." I was lost in these callous ruminations when the buzzer to the door of my apartment startled me. Suspecting it was Aaron, I made my way over to it, pausing before a mirror to check my hair and appearance before peeking out the peephole. It was my sister. Anxious to hear how her weekend had gone, I let her. It goes without saying that I was taken aback when my normally calm, cool and collected sibling all but lunged at me, wrapping me up in a bear hug that sent my Crunch 'n Munch flying all over the place. Startled, I hesitated while I tried to decide if this was a, "I'm so happy," hug or, "my world's coming to an end," hug. Only when she eased back enough to let me see her face did I realize that it was the former. "Jordan, I'm in love." Even if she hadn't said a word, I would have known that. The twinkle in her eyes, her radiant glow and a smile that went from ear to ear and well beyond marked her as a woman who was madly in love. Happy for my sister, I pulled her back into my arms and returned her hug. By the time we broke, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. "Okay, M, time to tell all." With that, I dashed off to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of German wine I had in fridge, a nice Riesling, and two glasses before setting down in the living room where she regaled me with her tale of love and romance in the Catskills. And while it was an artfully censored version of her mad weekend with Conner, it was enough to ignite my own vivid imagination, sending my mind off on a wild tangent of its own. Eventually, when she'd finished sharing as much as she was going to with me, Emma regarded me closely as I was in the process of refilling our glasses. "So, what did you and Aaron do all weekend?" Caught off guard by the way she'd posed her question, I found myself at a loss as how best to reply. "What makes you think I saw Aaron at all?" My sister gave me that 'Yeah, right,' look as she eased back in her seat, leaving me little choice but to fess up. "We went shopping on Saturday," I admitted. "And?" "When we got back, I fixed dinner for the two of us here." "And?" "We watched a DVD." "And?" "And what?" I finally asked, tiring of my sister's wicked little game. "That's all?" "Of course that's all. What did you expect?" My sister regarded me with a rather roguish grin. "Oh, I don't know. I could think of all kinds of possibilities." "Don't be silly, M. The only reason he's even bothering to spend any time with me is because that's part of his job." "Oh?" I knew she wasn't buying the line I was trying to giver her. Truth was, neither was I. Frustrated, as much from the hopelessness of ever having anything meaningful develop between Aaron and I as from Emma's less than subtle prodding, I looked down at the wine glass I was holding and swirled its content about before sighing. "You know as well as I do nothing will ever come of that." "Come of what?" "You know damned well what I'm talking about, Emma. We've been over this before." I guess my sister was in far too good a mood to be fazed by my sharp response. Maintaining her little enigmatic smile, she took a final sip of her wine, set her glass down and stood up. "It's been a long weekend," she announced as she stretched like a cat. "I need to get to bed." Unwilling to leave the evening end on a sour note, I chuckled as I came to my feet. "I'd have thought you'd be tired of lounging about in bed." Emma smiled at me over her shoulder as she made her way to the door. "Oh, trust me Jordan, there was no lounging about in bed for me this weekend." "Emma Lee Wallace, what would mother say?" "You go, girl?" "Not bloody likely," I snickered. After having a good laugh over that, my sister slipped on her coat and prepared to leave. But before doing so, she took me by the arms and stared into my eyes. "Jordan, don't be a fool. Never say never." Unable to think of anything to say, I simply drew her into me and gave her a fierce hug. Long after she'd gone, I thought about what she'd said, the never say never part. I know what she'd meant when she said it. I also knew that same philosophy applied to other, more troubling problems I'd soon find myself having to tackle. With that ominous thought in mind, I headed off to my bathroom to see how many pills Aaron had left for me. > "Megan, can I have a word with you?" Startled, Megan looked up from the book she'd had her nose buried in and stared at me with those big brown eyes of hers. "Yes, of course." I took a moment to look about the classroom before continuing. "Not here." "Over lunch?" she volunteered. "At the Market Place in Kimmel?" There was no mistaking the hopeful look in her face. "Sure," I muttered before heading off to find a seat on the other side of the room. "I'll see you there." Arriving late, I found Megan off in a corner, anxiously looking about. When she saw me, her face lit up as she waved in order to get my attention. "Over here." Despite having given the matter a great deal of thought, I was still unsure of how best to deal with the enchanting young woman I found myself taking a seat across from. It had been much easier when I'd been totally oblivious to Megan's involvement with Khalje and the FBI, when she'd been little more than a friend. Looking up from my tray and into her eyes, I had to correct myself. From the very start, she'd always been more than just a friend, a fact that would make what I was about to do even that much more difficult. In the past, Megan had always impressed me with her calm, graceful manner as well as her devastating awareness of the effect she had on others. At the moment, I saw none of that. Rather than the soothing, dulcet tones that had drawn me to her and with which she'd seduced me, Megan voice betrayed an uncertainty and nervousness that was so out of character. Despite my resolve to keep my own feelings in check, I found I couldn't help myself. Reaching across the table, I placed a hand upon her forearm, and act that caused her to stop talking and look up into my eyes. "Megan, forgive me for the way I've been behaving this past week." Just how much of what I said and did was calculated and how much was a true expression of what I felt was impossible for me to determine. Not that it mattered. My gesture and words had their desired effect. It took but a second for Megan's enticing smile to return as her eyes. Before I realized what was happening, those big brown eyes of hers were once more working their magic. > We chatted far longer than I had intended to. Fortunately, I was able to maintain enough of a check on my feelings to keep myself from being too drawn in by Megan's allure. As we were gathering up our things and preparing to leave, she invited me to meet her again that evening. "Maybe we could have dinner together or something," she suggested. Knowing that the last thing I needed at the moment was to spend time with Megan doing 'or something,' I begged off. "I'd love to, but unfortunately I've already made dinner plans." "Oh? Anyone special?" In the space of a single heartbeat, my guard was up. Her question, one that was, on the surface, quite natural and very innocent, the sort that any girl would ask another, reminded me of the deadly game of cat and mouse I was engaged in. Megan wasn't just any girl. She'd once worked for the FBI before going over to a man who was suspected of being the leader of a terrorist cell. Nothing she did, said or asked could be taken at face value, I reminded myself. Shrugging, I fobbed her off as quickly as I could in an effort to keep her from noting my sudden change in demeanor. "No one special," I muttered. "Just a friend." Sensing that she wasn't going to get anything more from me, Megan smiled. "Well, enjoy," she murmured as she headed off to class, leaving me free to give Aaron a frantic call once I was back out on the street and was sure I hadn't been followed. "Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?" Aaron asked in a rather self-satisfied manner. At the moment, I was in no mood to mess around. "Whatever plans you had for tonight, cancel them." "So, you don't want me to pick you up at seven for dinner?" he shot back without waiting for me to explain. Taken aback, I hesitated. "Pick me up? Aaron, what are you talking about? I don't recall discussing having dinner with you tonight." "That's because we didn't discuss it. I was planning on doing so later. But now that I need to change those plans . . ." "No, no, Aaron. Don't! I mean, that's why I was calling you." "What, to find out when I was picking you up?" "Aaron, please, I'm trying to be serious." "So am I," he shot back. "So is seven okay? Or do you have something else in mind?" "Seven will be fine. May I ask where are we going, or is that a state secret as well that I don't have a need to know?" "Have you forgotten, girl? It's Monday night. Green Bays is at Denver. We're headed for the Barfly." Recalling the last time I was there, I hesitated. "Are you sure you want to be seen there again with me?" "Why not, it was fun." "Maybe for you, mister. You didn't have a hangover the next day." "And whose fault was that?" "Yours, of course. You were the one who kept putting a fresh beer in my hand before I had a chance to finish the one I was nursing." "You know what they say, Jordan. Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker." It was all I could do to keep from groaning. "Say good bye, Aaron." "Good bye, Aaron," he repeated before ending his call with a chuckle. The idea that my sister just might be right about Aaron crossed my mind as I tucked my cell phone back into my shoulder bag. I found myself unable to deny the fact that there was more going on between us than I liked to let onto. Just what that was, and what could ever come of it was a question I wasn't at all sure I wanted to ask. After all, I had more than enough going on in my life as it was. The last thing I needed was more drama. Of course, that was a conclusion formulated by the left side of my brain without consulting either the right side or my heart, two organs that had an annoying habit of wandering off on their own, consequences be damned. > That night and the following day proved to be blissfully uneventful, which came as a welcomed relief. Even my evening with Aaron at the Barfly passed relatively peacefully, well, as peacefully as you can get at a New York sports bar when two of the NFL's top rated teams are playing and the beer is flowing. To my credit, I managed to keep myself from being caught up in the excitement and going over my self imposed limit. While I might not have provided the same level of entertainment to the other patrons of the Barfly that I had on my first visit there, I was able to leave the place with my both honor and stomach content intact. Wednesday was altogether another matter. Believing we'd patched up our differences and were once more close friends, Megan insisted on sitting next to me in Dr. Lange's class, something he took note of on more than one occasion as he was lecturing. The little smile he gave me every time he looked our way made me feel rather uncomfortable, a feeling that would become more pronounced later that day when I stepped into the office of Doctor Jerold Kaplan, my endocrinologist. To his credit, Dr. Kaplan had an easy going and friendly manner. He was very professional and quite understanding. Still, I felt rather uncomfortable discussing my gender issues with him. Talking to another man about my desire to become a woman was, for me, very difficult. It was almost as if I was ashamed to confess to another man that I wasn't good enough to be one. As I spoke to him, I had the same sense of shame I felt when admitting to another person that I'd failed. I guess there was some truth to that. After all, what boy doesn't recall having heard his father admonish him to toughen up and be a man. The funny thing about my situation was that the opposite was true. I needed to toughen up and be the sort of woman everyone expected me to be. Well, not everyone. Things became even more trying for me when it came time to be examined. Throughout that entire ordeal I kept my eyes screwed shut as I hung onto the exam table for dear life. Oddly enough, the presence of a nurse in the room who did nothing that I was aware of didn't bother me in the least. When I mentioned this to Emma later that night while talking to her on the phone, my sister informed me that the nurse was there to protect the doctor. "Male doctors, at least those that are smart, always have a female in the room with them when they're with a female patient. It protects them from lawsuits." When I reminded her that I wasn't really a female, Emma pitched into me. "Jordan Wallace, you stop that. The sooner you get used to the idea that you're a woman, the better off you'll be." "But Emma . . ." "Jordan, please. Remember who you're talking to. I know you better than anyone. Sometimes I think I know you better than yourself. And while I'm sure there's a part of you that is refusing to accept the truth, even you have to admit that what you're doing is right for you. I only wish that you could have come to that conclusion on your own and under better circumstances." I knew there was little point in arguing with my sister for in my heart, I knew she was right on all counts, especially her point about the events that had sent me tearing down the path I was now following. That issue aside, the ease with which I was settling into my new role, and a near total lack of trepidation over venturing further along was a bit disconcerting. If I needed any further evidence as to the truth of what Emma was saying, it was the excitement I experienced I felt as I was given the first shot of female hormones earlier in the day. I didn't belabor the issue before hand or torture myself with a long, drawn out to be or not to be Shakespearian soliloquy as I sat in the doctor's waiting room. I just did it. And even though I knew that it would be weeks before anything happened, I could not help but pause before the mirror in my bedroom as I was getting ready for bed that night and study my chest, which at the moment bore a striking resemblance to Kansas. It's not like I was expecting my double A minus breasts to suddenly bosom into triple Ds. Still, the fact that I even bothered looking spoke volumes. Chapter Twenty Three It wasn't until late Friday morning that Megan, who'd gone back to avoiding me without any explanation, informed me I was to go straight from my classes that afternoon to Dr. Khalje's. Everything about the verbal message was, to me, ominous. Khalje's continued use of Megan as a go between told me that he was not yet ready to contact me directly, leaving me to conclude that he was using Megan in much the same way the FBI was using Aaron. The wording of the message itself was quite telling. Unlike the previous week, this one was not a request. It was an order. Whether the primary purpose of my summons to the good doctor's place that night was to see if I would respond without hesitation or simply an addendum was impossible to tell. Having played the game according to Khalje's tune this far, I knew I had little choice but to continue to do so. Though I was tempted to call Aaron to inform him as to what was going on, I didn't, trusting that my very own secret agent man would be on the ball and track my movements via my cell phone. Instead, I did exactly what I was told and nothing more, heading off uptown on the Lexington Avenue Local without even bothering to stop by my place to change or drop my books. During the entire trip, I found myself unable to keep from looking about the subway car as we made our way north, watching who got on, who got off and who stayed. If I was being followed, my shadow was doing a magnificent job of keeping his or her presence a secret. It wasn't until I was about to ascend the stone steps to Dr. Khalje's townhouse that I realized that I didn't have my hijab with me. While Dr. Khalje would probably make a big deal out of it, I figured I could justify my oversight by claiming I'd only been doing exactly what I'd been told, which was to come directly to his place. If nothing else, my excuse would provide him with ample proof that I was ready and willing to do whatever it was he asked of me. As things turned out, I never had an opportunity to use that excuse. Instead of being met at the door by Dr. Khalje, a woman wearing Afghani attire who I judged to be in her late fifties greeted me, if you could call it that. Without a word, she opened the door just enough to allow me to squeeze through before directing me to set my books and shoulder bag down in a corner of the foyer. In doing so, I arranged my things in a manner that appeared to be haphazard but wasn't. Having come to appreciate that paranoia can be a virtue, I wanted to be able to tell if someone messed with them in my absence. From where she stood, the woman watched my every move. When I straightened up and turned to face her, she said nothing as she continued to examine me from head to toe. "I am Ranya," she finally announced crisply. "Come." Without another word, she pivoted about and headed up the stairs to a sparsely furnished room on the second floor containing nothing more than a small bed, a chest of drawers, a vanity and a couple of straight back chairs, all of which were pushed up against the walls. I was still taking everything in when Ranya made ready to leave. "You will undress," she stated in a manner that would have made a drill sergeant jealous. Then, as she was preparing to close the door behind her, she added, "everything, off." In the blink of an eye, I went from being very nervous to totally terrified. I always knew that a moment like this would come. Of course, the difference between knowing something is going to happen and being able to deal with it when it actually does is immeasurable. Not wishing to undress until I had something to cover myself with, I began to rummage through the chest of draws. I was still in the process of doing so when I heard the door opened behind me. "You're still dressed." The sound of Megan's voice caused me to jump. Spinning about, I found myself confronted by my erstwhile friend who was attired in a very ornate custom. "Ranya said you'd be ready, but I guess not." "I was just looking to see if there was anything here that I could, ah, cover myself with before I, ah, undressed." "I see," Megan replied with a knowing smile as she made her way of to the bed where she began to lay out an array of delicate clothing she had draped over her arm. "This is what you're looking for. Now, go on, undress. When you're finished, I'll help you with these." Having Megan pop up unexpectedly either in the flesh or during the course of a conversation with Aaron was happening far too frequently for my liking. Rather than being a bit player in this little drama I'd gotten myself involved in, I was beginning to suspect that she had a major role in whatever it was Dr. Khalje was up to. "Well, are you going to start undressing, or do I need to help you with that as well?" Standing next to the bed with her hands clasped before her, Megan stared at me with a bemused smile as I struggled to set aside my concerns and focus on the here and now. "Ah, no, that's okay. I can, or I mean I will do it." With that, I turned around and began to unbutton my blouse. "Jordan, stop being such a prude," Megan called out as she came over to where I was standing, took me by the arm and slowly turned me back around until I was facing her. Without another word, she began to undress me, doing so in a rather slow and deliberate manner that would have, under better circumstances, been unbearably erotic. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you," she murmured as she slid my blouse down off my shoulders and down over my arms, intentionally running her thumbs across my bare skin as she did so. "Everything must seem so different, so confusing," she whispered as she tossed the blouse onto the bed behind her and began to undo my skirt. Once more the enchanting young woman before me was using all her charms to put me at ease, preparing me to be taken down a path I'd never taken on my own. I knew what she was doing. I knew where we were going. I also knew I was all but powerless to stop her. And she knew it as well. Once shorn of my Western attire, Megan took to dressing me in the outfit she'd brought for me. It consisted of a pair of billowy silken pants in deep red with a loose fitting blouse of the same color. Over these she slipped a pale blue chapan, which is a light, full sleeved coat made of silk whose wide hem came down to mid-calf. Adorning the hem, wide cuffs, wide collar and centerline of the chapan was ornate embroidery in gold. On my head Megan set a small cap, called an araqchin. It was decorated with shiny metal discs that hung down over my forehead. Attached to the rear of the araqchin was a sheer, pale yellow silk veil called a rusari that cascaded wistfully down my back almost to the floor. When she was done, she guided me over to the mirror on the vanity. "Well?" It never ceased to amaze me how something as simple as a change of clothing could make such a difference in how a person viewed themselves. Rather than being repulsed or panicking, I was captivated by the image before me. It was as if I was looking at someone entirely different, someone who bore no resemblance to the Jordan Wallace I knew so well. The person I saw in the mirror was a fetching young woman, arrayed in layers of fine material that created an illusion of sensuality more powerful than bare skin and skimpy clothing ever could. As if to prove to myself that the reflection was really me, I moved my arms about and slowly turned, this way and that. In doing so, the swirl of the silk against my skin caused me to quiver. "Nice, isn't it," Megan murmured in my ear from behind. Unable to respond, I swallowed hard and nodded. "This is the traditional fashion of Uzbek and Northern Afghan tribes. Of course, your outfit is a bit fancier since it's what a dancer would wear." That was all it took to bring the real purpose of my being there crashing down upon me. This wasn't some fancy dress up game I was playing. I was being prepared to perform and serve Dr. Khalje in ways that I still had not been able to come to terms with. That thought caused me to shiver, something Megan could not help but notice. "Jordan, please take a seat while I fetch Ranya." Without waiting for me to answer, Megan took me by the hand and guided me over to one of the chairs where she sat me down before leaving the room in search of the woman who'd met me at the door. Wrapping my arms about myself, I took to rocking. "You can do this," I muttered. "You can do this." Of course, I really had no idea if I could, as evidenced by the welling of up tears in my eyes. I guess my 'friend' and Ranya had expected me to react the way I did, for they both entered the room and made for me at the double quick. Megan, patting me on the shoulder with one hand, did her best to calm me with soothing utterances as she brought a cup of tea up to my lips with her other one. "It'll be alright, Jordan," she murmured. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better." Being the silly, trusting sod I was, I did. > My ability to accurately judge the passage of time was about as good as my ability to keep up with everything that was going on around me. For the most part I was conscious of what was happening. It's just that it was from a rather detached, third party-ish point of view, as if I were watching what was going on around me instead of being an active participant. Most of the evening was spent in the small room where I'd been dressed. With Ranya playing traditional Afghani music on an MP3 player, Megan did her best to explain and demonstrate various dances. Much of what she told me swirled its way into one ear and breezed its way through to and out the other. Even had I been in top form, I doubt if I'd have been able to pay any attention to what Megan was saying, for my full attention was riveted on watching her as she put into practice that which she was trying so hard to explain. The manner in which she moved her hands in sync with the music, following them with her enchanting eyes as she gracefully shuffled about the floor bare foot was hypnotic. Even when she pulled me to my feet and did her best to coax me into following her steps, I found myself unable to concentrate on what I was doing as I watched her every move. Though I did try, I had little hope of matching Megan's natural elegance or grace. Eventually, Ranya turned off the music. "It is late, and he is waiting," she stated sharply. With that, the old woman took me by the hand and led me to another room on the second floor. Pausing before the door, she rapped softly and waited for permission to enter. At first, she did so alone, motioning to me with an upturned palm that I was to wait in the hall. Once more the urge to flee, to turn away and run like hell, came galloping to the fore. And once more I ignored it. After a minute, maybe two, Ranya emerged from the room. Holding the door open, she motioned for me to enter. Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, held it and stepped off as my befuddled mind muttered over and over again, 'you can do this. You can do this.' The room was lit only by the flickering glow of a fireplace. Seated before the fireplace, with his chair turned so that it faced the door was Dr. Khalje. Once in the room, I hesitated, jumping slightly when I heard the door close behind me. "Come here, child," Dr. Khalje ordered in a calm, fatherly manner. Having gone this far, I saw little point in debating the issue any longer. With head properly bowed, an act that caused my silken veil to flutter down about my shoulders, I made my way to where Khalje was seated. Ever so slowly, and without taking his eyes off me, Khalje came to his feet. Unable to watch, I closed my eyes as he stepped before me. "Is this what you want?" he asked as he towered over me. Trembling, I found myself unable to respond. Only when I felt his hand touch my chin and lift it did I open my eyes. Ever so gently, he tilted my head back till they met his. "Is this what you want?" "Yes." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi, Those of you who are still with me will be happy to know I actually have an ending to this story. As with much of my writing, it noodled its way into my consciousness while I was taking my dog, Arnold, on his early morning death march. There are still a few miles to go before we get there, however, so please be patient. I was talking about the story, not the dog's ordeal. Enjoy!