"We're home," Starsky told his partner unnecessarily. Beside him, Hutch yawned and opened the passenger side door of the red Ford Camaro. Knowing the blond would be more interested in hurrying to the house--for already The General's excited cry could be heard from within--Starsky popped the trunk and said, "I'll get our stuff."

Thankfully, there wasn't much. One suitcase and some hiking and fishing gear were all they had needed for the one-week vacation to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. As Starsky gathered the items, he could hear Hutch at the door the blond had just unlocked, cooing at The General, who sounded like he was so overjoyed to see his master again that all he could do was whimper loudly over and over again.

"Hey, let me in, " Starsky called when he approached the door, which had slammed shut. Attention on the dog, Hutch reached back to hold it open.

Starsky let everything drop to the floor as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The General was racing madly about the living room, bounding on and off furniture at such a rapid pace that Starsky felt dizzy watching him.

"Oh, poor boy," Hutch said from where knelt on the living room floor. The dog charged him and flew into his arms. Hutch hugged him tightly. "Oh, poor boy. Left here all by yourself. Poor, poor lonely boy." The dog licked madly at his master's face while now having his head patted.

"Man," Starsky noted, "he really is glad to see us." He decided not to elaborate, for fear of Hutch scoring a point. The decision on whether or not to take The General along on the vacation had resulted in a discussion which, over a period of days, eventually turned into an argument. One which Starsky had won. Though The General loved riding in the car, a full week of it seemed to be asking too much of a dog who was used to being active. Plus, it would greatly curtail motels they'd be able to stay at. Besides, Starsky had argued, the sisters next door, Toni and Annette, had seemed very eager to take care of The General in their neighbors' absence.

Still, watching The General react so heavily to his master's return made Starsky feel a twinge of guilt that the little family vacation hadn't included the whole family.

There was a knock on the screen door. "Hey, can I come in?"

Starsky reached back to open it. "Sure, Annette." With his foot, he pushed the luggage and gear out of the way.

Annette had light brunette hair with a touch of gray. "I won't stay long, because I know you guys want to relax after your long drive."

"No, it's okay," Starsky said.

Holding the dog, whose rear end--which had a mere stump for a tail--was still wagging frantically, Hutch gestured to the couch. "Go ahead, sit down. Give us a full report on whether he was a good boy or not."

Starsky also moved to sit on the floor next to the dog. He patted the brown and white coat. The General glanced at him while wagging his tail harder, but otherwise his attention remained on his master.

"Oh, he was a good boy," Annette said. "No trouble at all. He just wouldn't eat much, because he kept wondering when you were coming home. Most of the time he'd just sit there at the front window and stare out the curtains. I tried to get him to fetch his toys, but he wasn't interested. He just wanted to stare out that window."

"Ah, poor boy," Hutch cooed. "I bet you thought we were never coming back, huh?"

The attention earned Hutch a wet kiss.

Starsky bit his tongue to refrain from pointing out that since they'd returned this time, maybe The General would understand they'd be returning in the future. He decided to hold that thought until they went on another vacation, when he could point it out to Hutch who, surely more than ever after hearing how lonely the dog had been, would want their pet to come along.

"So, did you guys have a good time?"

"Yeah," Starsky said while Hutch nodded agreeably. "It's beautiful country out there. I wouldn't hesitate to go back for an instant."

Annette stood. "Like I said, I don't want to keep you guys. Your mail is all on the kitchen table, along with this morning's newspaper. I threw the other newspapers away."

Finally, Hutch stood, giving The General a final pat. He clasped Annette's hand. "We really appreciate you and Toni taking care of him."

"Anytime, guys. He really is a good dog."

Starsky stood and held the door open for her. "You and Toni decide what night, and we'll take you out to a seafood dinner."

"Really, fellas, you don't need to do that."

"We insist," Hutch said. "Besides, we haven't had seafood in a while."

"That's right," Starsky put in. "So, let us know."

"All right, then," Annette stepped out the door. "I'll check with Toni. You guys have a good afternoon."

"Thanks, Annette. Bye."

They waved and then closed the door behind her. Hutch looked at the luggage and equipment. "Is that everything?"

"Yep." Starsky sighed. "Guess I'll start putting it all away."

Hutch reached for the leash that was on the coffee table and said to the dog. "Wanna go for a walk?"

The General's entire body wagged frantically in reply.

* * *

Starsky exhaled as the last of his semen spurted, his orgasm instilling a wonderful lassitude. He turned to look at the empty pillow beside him. Hutch might think that Sunday mornings--like every morning--was for going for a jog with The General, but he himself preferred to stay in bed until it was time for the televised sports events to start.

On all mornings he usually stayed in bed while Hutch and The General went for a jog. It wasn't until recently that Starsky had started masturbating during the private time. At first, he'd felt guilty. Then he rationalized that he wasn't hurting Hutch by indulging himself. After all, Hutch got all he wanted merely for the asking. And it wasn't that Starsky didn't get enough lovemaking with Hutch, it was just that...well, he found himself looking for a little variety.

The guilt was still there, stronger now, but it had nothing to do with the act of self-indulgence in and of itself. It had to do with the nature of the fantasies that he used to bring himself to orgasm. They were variations of the same fantasies he'd always used...long before he and Hutch started making love with each other.

She never had a name, sometimes not even much of a face. But she made wonderful noises and made him feel good. Sometimes she was blond, sometimes brunette, sometimes a redhead, sometimes even sexily bald. Sometimes she was a corporate secretary, sometimes a prostitute, sometimes a dancer, sometimes a wealthy housewife. Sometimes he met her on the bus, sometimes she wanted to give him a reward after he'd saved her from harm, sometimes they crossed paths on the beach.

Whatever the scenario, she was always a she.

Which was perfectly normal, Starsky tried to tell himself now, guilt overtaking the pleasure of the afterglow. After all, women were all he'd ever fantasized about throughout his life. He was sure at some point that he must have fantasized about Hutch, but since they'd started making it with each other shortly after reaching that point in their minds, his dreams came true very quickly. For certain, he'd never fantasized about another man. But that didn't make him feel any less guilty about his desire for self-indulgence.

Not hurtin' anyone, he silently insisted. In fact, it was better to release the tension in a harmless way, rather than letting it feed on him.

But why do I feel tension in the first place? a small voice demanded in the back of his mind. The desire for masturbation and the accompanying female fantasies had been going on for just a few months, if that.

He and Hutch were happy. Content. They had a job that they both believed in, a comfortable home life, and each had hobbies--Starsky mainly his car, Hutch mainly the dog--that kept them occupied when they weren't being attentive to each other. They also had a nice sex life.

Starsky frowned. Maybe that was the problem. Their sex life was "nice". Not thrilling, not exciting. Just nice. Even on their recent vacation, there had been nothing out of the ordinary except perhaps some extended foreplay.

"Dammit," he muttered, reaching for a towel from the nightstand and wiping at the puddle on his stomach. What right did he have to complain that their lovemaking wasn't something one could write a lusty book about? When they made love to each other, it was always done with the utmost tenderness, love, and passion. Starsky didn't have any complaints, and he was sure that Hutch didn't either.

But....

Starsky bit his lower lip. He couldn't help it that he remembered. Remembered how it was to kiss her soft skin, feel her curves. Slide into her slick, warm wetness.

His eyes closed. There was nothing like it. When it came to sheer, physical sensation, there was nothing like it at all.

While Hutch preferred walking and jogging to stay physically active, Starsky had decided to coach various Little League teams throughout the year. It got him out of the house, he enjoyed working with the kids, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction to help them be the best they could be. It was also good exercise.

Sometimes, Hutch would come and watch when Starsky's team had a game to play. But many times he preferred to stay at home, watch TV, mess with the dog, whatever.

Does he jerk off when I'm gone, too? Starsky wondered now. It made him feel a little better, knowing that Hutch might. And, surely, the blond's fantasies for those times centered around women, as well?

Starsky sat up in bed. He almost wanted to talk to Hutch about it...missing doing it with women. But he was afraid that if it turned out that Hutch didn't miss it, then he might feel threatened by Starsky's need.

Best not to bring it up at all, Starsky decided. Besides, it's not like we can do anything about it, anyway.

Trying to shake off the feeling of frustration, Starsky stepped toward the shower.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Starsky sat at one end of the sofa while Hutch sat at the other, their feet on the coffee table, eyes on the baseball game. Both men had beers. But Starsky's lap was empty while Hutch's was full of The General. The dog seemed to be dozing while his master idly scratched at his ears and rubbed and petted along the length of his body.

Starsky was interested in the game, but his glance kept straying to the events at the other end of the couch. He was feeling a little lonely, and not above feeling a little left out. But he squashed any thoughts of pointing it out, for he knew it would only result in his being accused of being jealous of the dog. And while it might be true that he was jealous at the moment of the attention the dog was receiving, he liked knowing that Hutch and The General had that degree of attachment. After all, that was what had attracted him to the banner that had announced the special adoption day at the pet store when he first got The General, nearly a year ago. The sign had said, "Give Yourself the Gift of Unconditional Love. Adopt a Pet." It wasn't himself he'd wanted to give the unconditional love to.

Another inning passed, and then The General suddenly came awake, his head cocked as though he were listening to something far away. He jumped off the couch and stuck his head between the closed curtains of the living room window.

Starsky didn't hesitate an instant. He put his beer aside and stretched out on the sofa, his head landing nicely in Hutch's lap.

The blond didn't speak. Instead, his fingers continued their motion, scratching behind Starsky's ears, his other hand rubbing along the cotton of Starsky's shirt.

Starsky grinned, but restrained the chuckle that threatened to emerge. It was tempting to make a joke about being treated like a dog, but he didn't want to disrupt the motion that was feeling awfully good right now.

In fact, it was feeling a little too good. As Hutch's hand rubbed at his denim-clad butt, Starsky felt the other side of his pants grow tight.

For that matter, as he wriggled and pressed himself tighter against Hutch's lap, he felt a movement in the denim that touched his shoulder.

The motion of the hand slowed. Then it slipped into the back of his jeans.

His crotch hardened fully, feeling that warm hand along his bare ass. Starsky was still staring at the TV, but he no longer knew what was happening in the game. Nor did he care. The hand that had been scratching at his ears reached inside his shirt and rubbed along the hair of his chest.

Starsky couldn't stand it any longer, and he rolled toward Hutch, his mouth landing right on the firm tent of denim. He reached to the fly and brought it down, Hutch wriggling to assist. At the same time, Starsky felt his own fly being lowered.

They ended up partially undressed. Starsky sucked avidly on the turgid flesh that had emerged when he lowered Hutch's fly. His lower body was twisted awkwardly, as he was trying to assist Hutch's hand in stroking his own flesh, which was no less hard.

They hadn't spoken a word. There was only the sounds of the baseball game, The General's low noises of whatever fascinated him outside the front window, and the suction of his mouth on Hutch's cock, and Hutch's hand working his own.

It felt good, stretched out like this on a Sunday afternoon, pleasing each other when neither had expected it.

Suddenly, The General started barking. And then the doorbell rang.

Starsky threw his head back, feeling his desire deflate. "Who could that be?" he wondered with disgust.

"Girl Scouts selling cookies," Hutch replied, already moving his hips to dislodge Starsky. "I saw them earlier when I was jogging."

Starsky sighed and sat up. Both men zipped their flies and rearranged their clothing before answering the door.

* * *

"Yeah, he was really sad while you were gone," Toni said as she mashed up her baked potato. The four of them were in their evening best, as Starsky and Hutch were treating the sisters to a "thank you" dinner at one of the city's finer seafood establishments. "He'd go for a walk with me, but then he'd be pulling on the leash to go back toward the house. I really think he thought he'd never see you again."

Annette looked at Hutch. "It really is neat how much he loves you." She laughed briefly. "I've had pets before and they never felt that way about me."

Hutch ducked his head bashfully. "I guess maybe we over-bonded."

"Nothing wrong with that," Toni approved. "He was really lucky that David rescued him from the Dumb Friends League. We all know how those dogs end up, if no one adopts them."

Starsky recalled, "He seemed to be the only one there that would fit our house and our lifestyle. They had all these little yappy dogs, and hairy dogs, and drooly dogs." He made a face. "I couldn't see having any of those. There was a Great Dane in the pen with General that I liked, but he was too big."

"You guys sure gave him a good home," Annette said. "It's just too bad he doesn't have anyone to play with when you're gone. Toni and I," she glanced at her sister, "talk about getting a cat sometimes, but we can never quite decide to just do it. But maybe if we did the cat could go over to your yard and play with General."

Toni rolled her eyes. "I keep telling you, Annette, cats are really independent. They aren't going to go over to a neighbor's yard and play with their dog. They have too many of their own little cat-things that they like doing. They aren't the kind of pet you can order around."

Annette looked at the men while gesturing to her sister. "So she keeps telling me. My sister, the expert on cats, even though she's never owned one."

They all chuckled and the conversation changed. Except Starsky found himself silently focusing back on what Toni had said. If The General had a companion, then there wouldn't be any more arguments about whether or not to bring him along on vacation. And they wouldn't have worry about The General being sad when left behind.

Everyone laughed and Starsky did, too, though he had no idea what had been said. He was too busy planning.

* * *

Starsky sat slumped in his chair at the kitchen table, watching his spoon sink into the pile of oatmeal in his bowl.

"You going to eat it," Hutch demanded, "or are you just going to sit there and stare at it?"

Starsky's eyes rose to meet those of his partner. Hutch was dressed for work, as Starsky was, and he was sitting across the table from Starsky and in the process of peeling an orange.

"Hutch, I've been thinking."

The pale lashes batted at Starsky. "Should I run away screaming?"

Starsky kicked him under the table.

"Ouch!" The blond reached to rub at his shin.

"Will you listen?"

"Damn, that hurt." Hutch's hand nursed the spot.

"Will you just listen to me a minute?"

"I'm listening, I'm listening."

"I've been thinking about what the girls said about The General and how lonely he gets." As predicted, Hutch was listening carefully. "I mean, even when we're just gone to work, it probably gets boring for him to just sit on the back patio all day."

"Yeah?" the blond encouraged.

"Well, you know there could be an easy solution."

"Which is?"

"We could get another dog, so he'd have someone to play with."

Hutch seemed surprised at the suggestion. But he said, "Well, sure, that would be fine by me. I'm just surprised that you'd want to put up with another dog."

"As long as we got one that was already housebroken, doesn't seem like it would be a big deal. At least now we're experienced owners."

The blond smiled. "That'll be great. You can have a dog then, too."

Starsky furrowed his brow, feeling that his partner was missing the point. "I don't need a dog, Hutch. I'm just saying that it would be a companion for The General."

"I know, but since I already have a dog, it's only fair that the next dog be your dog."

"Right. Whatever," Starsky said quickly, not understanding why Hutch wanted to make a big deal about the ownership thing.

"What kind do you want?" Hutch asked eagerly. "Male? Female? Large? Small? Furry? Short-haired?"

"It doesn't matter," Starsky insisted. "I don't have any special preference. Except I'd like to, you know, adopt one again. It's kind of a neat feeling knowing you've given an unwanted dog a good home."

"Yeah," Hutch nodded, as though he were pleased with Starsky's reasoning.

"We shouldn't get one too small," Starsky said thoughtfully. "I mean, it needs to be sort of the same size as The General, so they can play together. But we don't want to get one too big because our yard is so small. In fact, it probably ought to be somewhat smaller than General."

Hutch shrugged. "When do you want to go?"

"I guess Friday after work. Then we'd have all weekend to help it get used to its new home."

After breakfast, Hutch let The General out into the back yard. As he did so, he said, "Just think, fella, this weekend you'll have a boyfriend." He gave the dog a final pat. "Whaddya think of that?"

From behind his partner, Starsky reached to squeeze the nearest buttock. "Yeah," he said with enthusiasm. "Every creature on this Earth ought to have a boyfriend."

* * *

"Geez, there's so many," Starsky said as they walked along the rows and rows of glass-enclosed pens at the Los Angeles Dumb Friends League. He'd been excited about the idea of finding a new member to add to their household, but now he felt trepidation at having to choose among so many unwanted canines.

"Yeah," Hutch said, "You'll just have to choose the one that suits you."

Starsky frowned. Though he knew it would be, once again, talking to a brick wall, he grumbled, "Come off it. We'll pick one out together. I don't care whether it's 'my' dog or not. We're here to find a new friend for The General. That's all."

"You'll like having a dog of your own," Hutch insisted.

Starsky restrained a sigh and kept walking. He smiled at a black Labrador mix that came up to the glass at his approach, tail wagging eagerly. "You're friendly, aren't ya?"

"Fido," Hutch read from a paper taped onto the glass window. "'I'm four years old and need a new home. I like children and other pets. I need lots of exercise. In return, I give lots of love. Please take me home.' Aaaah," Hutch said, bending to get eye level with the dog. "You're about the same age as General." He watched the tail wag. "I bet you'd like playing with him."

"He's nice and friendly," Starsky noted. "But I think he's too big, Hutch. Our yard's too small for the two of them."

Hutch sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. Let's look for smaller dogs."

They continued on, tapping on glass and cooing at the animals that greeted them eagerly.

"Oh, look at this," Starsky said, bending to a Sheltie mix that sat stone still, watching out the glass, "it looks like a miniature Lassie. Hey, Lassie," he tapped on the glass. The dog simply gazed back at him, not showing much reaction. "Geez, sure seems quiet."

"He might be anti-social," Hutch noted, "especially if he's ever been abused." He studied one of two cards on the glass. "Nikki. Sheltie. Oops, female. Spayed. Approximately one year old. That's all it says."

"What's the other card?" Starsky asked. "There's another one in there." The second dog was a grayish-tan, short-hair, a little smaller than the Sheltie, sitting back in the corner, wide eyes staring at the two men. It trembled visibly. "Ah, look how scared it is."

"Female," Hutch read. "Approximately two years old. That's all it says. Not even a name."

"Ah, poor girl," Starsky cooed at the glass. The dog seemed to shake harder. "Hutch, look how scared she is. Poor little thing. She's shaking all over, like she's thinks we're gonna hurt her."

"Well, can you imagine what it must be like?" the blond said sympathetically. "To be dumped off here, probably by strangers, and then be put in a pen with a strange dog and then put on display so all these people can come by and stare at you?"

"I wonder what her background is," Starsky said.

"Whatever it is, she doesn't look very playful."

Starsky looked back at his partner. "Well, gee, waddya expect? Like you said, if she just got dumped off here because she was a stray or something, she's too scared to be playful. But that doesn't mean she won't be once she gets rescued from this place."

"Starsky, are you seriously considering her?" Hutch asked with surprise.

Starsky straightened to look at his partner. "Well, why not? She's the right size. Well, maybe a bit small, but--"

"We don't even know if she's housebroken," Hutch pointed out.

Oh, yeah, there was that. "Well, let's go talk to the adoption desk and see if they know anything about her."

Hutch pulled a sheet out of his jeans pocket, which he'd picked up when they had entered the shelter. "We're supposed to write her card number on here and take it to the adoption window. Are you sure you don't want to look at some others first?"

"No, let's see what we can find out about her. If she doesn't pan out, we can look some more."

They went to the adoption window where they had to wait in line for over twenty minutes before it was their turn. The clerk at the window asked them questions to see if they understood what they were getting into by adopting a dog. When Hutch testily pointed out that they'd already adopted one, things went faster.

The clerk pulled a card. "It says here that she was a stray found by a family. The family kept her for a few months until the kids got tired of her, so they brought her here. They assume she's housebroken because they kept her outside all the time. That's all the information there is. Everything else is 'unknown', except they were feeding her dry dog food." The clerk looked up. "Would you like to meet her before making a decision?"

"Sure," Starsky said.

"Just have a seat and she'll be brought out to you."

Starsky rubbed his hands together as they sat down. "At least she's housebroken."

"We think," Hutch pointed out. Then, "I don't know, Starsk. She doesn't seem to be quite what we were talking about."

Starsky didn't respond, because he knew Hutch was right.

Ten minutes later an attendant appeared, carrying the trembling dog toward the row of chairs where people were sitting.

"There she is," Starsky said, getting up.

"You can meet with her in here." The attendant led them to a tiny room with a bench attached to the wall. "Ring the bell," he pointed to the wall, "when you're done." He placed his bundle on the wooden bench and left the room, closing the door behind him.

While Hutch stood by the door, Starsky sat on the bench next to her. "Hey, little girl," he whispered, reaching to pet her. She trembled harder, hunching low as though she wanted to disappear. "What you so afraid of, huh? There's nothing to be scared of." He petted her head, and he was relieved that she didn't move away. "Uncle Starsky is right here. He's not gonna let anything happen to you."

He took his hand away and she sat there shaking so hard that he half-expected her to urinate.

"Guess this is kind of a scary place, huh?" he continued to whisper. "It's tough when you don't know what's gonna happen to you. All these strange dogs and strange people. Some go away and never come back."

She ducked her head and took a hesitant step toward him.

"Ah, that's a good girl," he approved. "No need to be afraid of Uncle Starsky. He wouldn't hurtcha for anything in the world."

She put a trembling paw on his thigh.

"Ah, that's a good girl." He put his arm around her, and she crawled into his lap. "Ah, what a brave girl." He petted along her coat, liking the softness, as it was a little thicker than The General's. She burrowed against him, putting her head inside the flap of his jacket.

He looked at Hutch, who had remained silent. "It's like she wants to hide."

The blond said, "At least she trusts you enough to get in your lap."

"Ah, poor girl," Starsky stroked the brindle coat. "I can see that you're a good girl. You deserve a nice home." He continued petting her and felt something happening to his chest, his whole body seeming to turn to mush. His mouth dropped open and looked up at his partner. "Hutch, she stopped shaking."

Hutch came forward, kneeling. "Maybe she exhausted herself."

Starsky wasn't sure of the reason; he just knew that her trust in him was something he couldn't betray. "Hutch, we got to get her. I can't put her back in the cage where she's gonna be all scared again. She trusts me." He continued to pet her, loving the warm bundle in his lap, they way she rested against him with such faith that he would make everything right in her world.

Hutch sighed. "I'm only going to say this once: you're making an emotional decision, not a practical one."

"So? When I got The General in the first place, it was totally spontaneous. In fact, I was scared as hell while I was driving him home, because I was afraid you wouldn't like him."

Hutch chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, it probably wouldn't hurt to have a female in our household." He stood and went to the button on the wall. "Just wait until General finds out he's going to have a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend." He pushed it.

A moment later the attendant appeared.

"We'll take her," Starsky said.

The attendant reached for her. "Tell the people at the adoption desk you want her."

The dog started shaking again at being taken from Starsky's lap.

"Where are you taking her?" Starsky asked.

"Back to her kennel." Seeing the look on Starsky's face, the man said, "Don't worry.

If you want her, she's your dog. But you have to go through the paperwork first."

Starsky looked at Hutch, and the blond said, "Let's get to the paperwork then."

They had to take a number and wait nearly an hour. When they were once again at the window, the attendant said, "We'll have to keep her here for a couple of days to be spayed. You can pick her up Monday."

"Monday?" Starsky stuttered in disbelief. "Can't we take her home now and bring her back later for that?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. Our regulations are that no adult animal leaves here without being sterilized first."

Starsky started to protest, but Hutch said, "Come on, it'll be better this way to get it over with."

"Yeah, but what's that going to do to her?" Starsky wanted to know. "Being operated on on top of everything else."

"Sir, it's a very simple procedure. Very routine. Almost all dogs recover without any side effects at all. She'll just have a few sutures that will need to come out in five to seven days. We'll give you a list of vets who will do it for free, and at the same time give her a checkup at no charge."

"There's no way she can come home earlier than Monday?"

The woman smiled. "Sir, she'll be in good hands."

"But she's so scared," Starsky protested.

The woman's smiled broadened.

Starsky wasn't sure he liked being laughed at. "What?" he demanded.

"It's nothing," she said pleasantly. "It's just that you're demonstrating bonding behavior. We like to see that. I have no doubt that you'll give her the utmost in love and care. Now, if you'll just sign this," she presented a form, "and pay the $25.00 adoption fee, she'll officially be yours so no one else can adopt her."

When the paperwork was finished, they strolled away from the adoption area. "Man," Starsky said, "it's going to seem like forever before Monday. Think maybe I'll call in sick so I can spend all day with her."

Hutch was silent beside him, as the blond had mostly been throughout the entire adoption procedure. Starsky looked at him. "How come you're not saying nothin'?"

A sly grin spread beneath the mustache. "I'm trying hard not to."

"Why?"

"Starsky, do I really have to say I told you so?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"About having a dog of your own?"

"She's both of ours."

The blond smirked. "It wasn't my lap she crawled into."

"Well, you were standin' up."

"It wasn't me who was throwing such a fit at the window about why does she have to stay to be spayed."

"Well, someone hasta stand up for her."

Hutch chuckled. "Right."

Starsky was about to make a retort, but then he spotted a pet store near the exit. "Let's go in here and buy her some stuff."

After they picked out some supplies, including a matching pink collar and leash, Starsky picked up a book. "Look at this. Second-Hand Dog." He leafed through the pages. Then he said, "Listen to this," and read, "'The second-hand dog is second-hand for all his life. He's been disappointed. He put his love and trust in a person or in a family and they broke that trust. They gave him up.' Ah, Hutch, we gotta get this book." He tossed it at the blond, who had taken on the task of holding all the supplies Starsky picked out.

"What about a bed?" Hutch gestured to where the baskets were.

Starsky picked up one with a pink cushion. "I like this one."

"You know," Hutch said as they went to stand in line at the counter, "she may be like The General was and not want to sleep in it at first."

Starsky grinned at him. "Then after she gets to know me I'll put my dirty underwear in it and she'll think it's heaven."

Hutch tried not to blush at the amused glances from the people around them.

* * *

"A girlfriend," Hutch emphasized to The General, who sat obediently before the sofa, listening to his master. "Your very own girlfriend."

"Yeah," Starsky said, kneeling beside the dog and patting him on the head. "Your very own girlfriend to play with." The dog turned to look at him. "But you've got to treat her with lots of respect. Share your toys and stuff."

"But not your bed," Hutch shook his finger as the canine head turned back to him.

"Unless you want to," Starsky amended, and The General looked at him again. "Except your bed smells too much like Master Hutch, so she'll probably want to sleep in her own bed, which will smell more like Uncle Starsky."

"Yeah," Hutch told the eyes that returned to him. "Especially since Uncle Starsky's underwear is a lot dirtier than Master Hutch's."

"Yeah," Starsky said, "and the reason Master Hutch knows that is because he has a really strange interest in Uncle Starsky's underwear." The dog had no sooner looked toward him before his attention was drawn back to his master's voice.

"What Master Hutch would really like is if Uncle Starsky didn't wear any underwear at all."

"Except that Uncle Starsky has such a huge prick that without underwear it would get caught in the zipper all the time and get damaged, and then Master Hutch wouldn't like Uncle Starsky any more."

Hutch shrugged. "Except Master Hutch," he waited for the dog to look back at him, "could still make use of Uncle Starsky's backside, so he'd still keep him around."

Starsky took the General's nose and turned the dog back toward him. Forlornly, he asked, "Is that love or what?"

The General licked Starsky's face.

* * *

They had told Starsky that he could pick up the new member of their family at nine am. After leaving Hutch with the responsibility of telling Dobey that he was too sick to come into work, Starsky left for the Dumb Friends League with leash and collar in hand.

Thankfully, early in the morning the shelter was less crowded, and Starsky didn't have to wait for his turn at the window. He told them who he was and was asked to sit down and wait until they brought the dog out. It ended up being a long wait. Finally, he spotted her in an attendant's arms and stood, reaching for her.

"This is your dog?" the attendant asked.

"Yeah." She was still shaking, but looking bright-eyed and alert.

The attendant maneuvered her onto her back. "Her stitches," he indicated the sutures, "will need to come out in about a week. Just be careful around them. Otherwise, she should be fine."

"Okay," Starsky said, taking her trembling form in his arms. He decided not to bother with the collar and leash. "Thanks." He started toward the door, soothing, "It's okay, it's all okay now." He shifted his arms and she ended up with her head on his shoulder. He was startled when she buried her face in his neck. "Ah, little princess," he cooed, rubbing along her back and feeling his blood pressure lower. "Uncle Starsky is gonna take good, good care of you."

He emerged from the shelter to the parking lot and she lifted her head. He tightened his arms, wondering if she might try to get away, but she seemed more relaxed and wasn't shaking any more.

"Hope you don't get car sick," he said as he opened the passenger side of the Camero. "Just gotta take a little ride to your new home. It's gonna be your home forever and nobody's ever gonna get rid of you ever again." He lowered her to the seat, then quickly shut the door. He got in the driver's side and started the motor. She put her front paws on the armrest and looked out the side window. "Maybe you like riding in the car," he noted. He reached over and rolled down the window a few inches. "There, now you can get some air."

He drove slowly, watching her look out the window. He kept talking to her, and she occasionally glanced back at him. He also reached to pet her periodically, but she seemed more interested in where they were going than acknowledging the attention.

Finally they were home. "Okay," he said as he parked behind Hutch's Mercury and turned off the motor. Apparently, the blond had decided he wanted to be part of the welcoming committee and had found an excuse to leave Parker Center. "This is your new home. It'll be real nice, but The General might get excited when he meets you. But he's real nice, too."

Starsky put on her collar and leash. The bright pink looked attractive against her brindle coat. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door. She jumped out but, unlike when he'd first brought The General home, she didn't seem to have any interest in trying to run away.

Starsky walked in front of her. "Come on," he said, leading the way up the sidewalk.

She trotted behind, looking around her.

Hutch opened the door and held it open from a squatting position. He had The General by the collar. "Ah, look," he said softly, "your new girlfriend."

The General strained forward, his rear end wagging hesitantly.

Hutch pulled at his collar. "Come on, boy, let her come inside."

Their new dog also seemed hesitant, and when she resisted the tug on her leash, Starsky picked her up and carried her inside.

He sat in an easy chair and put her on the floor. "There you go, girl. Say hello to your new brother."

"Boyfriend," Hutch corrected, letting The General move toward her.

"Well, whatever."

The two dogs sniffed noses. Then they moved a step and sniffed at each other's rear.

Hutch grinned. "Now you don't have to wait to meet other dogs on walks before you get to sniff some ass, huh, boy?"

The new family member tried to move away, but The General kept sniffing at her.

Starsky scooped her up in his arms. "Give her a break," he scolded.

"It's going to take them a while to get used to each other," Hutch said. "We're going to have to let them work it out themselves."

The General was staring at the bundle in Starsky's arms. He lay down at Starsky's feet and whimpered softly.

Hutch said, "You're already wanting to play, aren't you, boy?"

The stump of a tail wagged in response to his master's voice.

"It would be nice to let her get a chance to get used to everything," Starsky said. The dog now seemed comfortable in his arms.

"Maybe we should put them outside, where there's more room."

Starsky sighed, then realized it wouldn't be a bad idea. Especially since they didn't know for sure if their new dog was housebroken or not. He stood, holding her. "Hey, Girlfriend, you wanna go outside?"

She didn't react, other than raising her head from his chest.

Hutch slid open the glass door. "Outside, boy."

The General ran out, but then turned around to watch the center of attention.

Starsky carried Girlfriend out and put her on the grass. "There you go, girl. Why don't you look around?"

She sniffed curiously at the grass, then began to move along the edge. The General watched her for a while, then moved closer, studying her intently.

"Leave her alone," Hutch said firmly. The dog looked up at his master's voice, but didn't seem inclined to obey. He shadowed her while Girlfriend continued her exploration.

Starsky slipped his arm around Hutch's waist. "Our little family has now grown to four. Never woulda imagined it when we first moved in."

Hutch merely grunted, watching their pets.

Starsky leaned next to Hutch and found himself thinking of last night. There wasn't anything very memorable about it. They done a sixty-nine and then rolled over and fallen asleep. As with most of their lovemaking these days, the act was for the most part an afterthought, something that they figured they may as well indulge in since the lights were out. And perhaps for no reason other than that they hadn't done it in a while.

Starsky wasn't even sure it could be said that they made love at least once a week anymore.

As always when the subject crossed his mind, he tried to rationalize it and tell himself that it was only natural that their desires would diminish with time. That because they were in each other's presence so much, the need wasn't there to join so intimately on a frequent basis. That they received enough pleasure from day-to-day life that their passions didn't demand a more intense outlet.

And yet, Starsky felt an urge now to apologize to Hutch. To tell him that he was sorry that last night had been lacking in fireworks, that they should make a greater effort or not bother at all. Lack of frequency was one thing, but languor and indifference were more difficult to swallow.

But Starsky also knew he would not speak his thoughts out loud. For Hutch didn't show any ill effects from last night. In fact, Starsky realized now, his big blond's seeming acceptance of their lackluster lovemaking was what was most disturbing of all.

Or is it that he feels as I do and is just as afraid to say anything, because he doesn't have a solution, either?

That was a more comforting thought, though Starsky still had no idea as to what the answer to their troubles would be.

Hutch turned away from Starsky's grip. "I've got to get back to work," he said with a regretful sigh.

"Did Dobey believe you when you told him I was sick?"

The other shrugged. "What difference does it make?"

"Well, I'll stay here and keep an eye on the pooches while you slave away."

"I hope my 'slaving away' means I can expect a full-course meal tonight."

Starsky grinned. It was an unspoken agreement that whenever one stayed home--unless he was really sick--it was his responsibility to make a 'real' dinner. "Have I ever failed you?" he challenged.

Hutch opened the glass door. "Only the time you considered home-delivered Chinese food to be a 'real' meal."

Starsky chuckled. He sat down in a patio chair and continued watching the dogs while listening to Hutch drive away. Girlfriend had explored most of the yard, relieved herself, and was now looking around. She spotted Starsky and came trotting eagerly toward him. The General still followed close, studying her, as though not sure what to make of this new presence in their lives.

Starsky scooped her up when she was close enough. "That's a good girl." He looked at The General, who stood at his knee, watching her, hind end wagging slowly. "She's a nice girl, isn't she, fella? Uncle Starsky picked her out himself. When she gets used to you, she'll be a nice playmate." He patted The General, as though to enforce the words.

Girlfriend curled up in Starsky's lap, eyes darting back and forth, as though unsure of what to make of her circumstances.

Starsky stroked her, feeling the warm fuzziness come over him again, knowing this was what was meant when scientists said that pets were good for one's health. He remembered when he used to always feel that fuzziness when he was around Hutch. He did still feel it at times, like just a few moments ago when he put his arm around him. He also used to get horny around Hutch with very little provocation. He still got horny now, but there seemed to be a spark that was missing.

Never thought we'd get like that, pal. After seeing how much joy makin' love to each other could add to our lives, I never thought we'd become nonchalant about it; or that it would ever seem ordinary.

Starsky patted the arm of the chair. "Here, General. Sit."

The General sat next to him.

Starsky patted the dog's head as he hugged their new family member closer against his body. "At least we all got each other. I guess that's something, even if Master Hutch and Uncle Starsky don't have to show it to each other anymore."

Speaking the words out loud brought no comfort.

* * *

Part Two