Let me amend that. I was not happy. Kiska was not happy. If my neighbors had any hearing capabilities left, they were not happy either. I’d arrived home with no plans for my new wards besides keeping them separate from Kiska for as long as I could. Leaving Kiska inside, none the wiser to the interlopers gathered in his yard, I gathered up blankets, towels and even a pair of old sweatpants to make beds for the team in my semi-heated shed. I filled my best stainless steel mixing bowl set with food and water. And I spoke quietly to Fluff, filling her in on the rules of the land: No barking. No digging. No terrorizing of small woodland creatures. Then, confident she’d got my message, I went back inside to... I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Call for help was my first thought, but from whom? I was mulling this over when a stainless steel mixing bowl went sailing past my front window like some warped flying saucer. It smacked into a tree and fell with a loud ping against a rock. Kiska, lying on his bed, happily enjoying his reprieve from being forced outside as soon as I got home, lifted his head and frowned.
