A big, toothy grin. I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he was smiling about. And then I saw something. My phone. In his hand. "What t...e fuck? Why do you have my phone?" "You left it in here. You know you're not supposed to have phones in school," he smiled at me knowingly. "Although you did get a text message. I clicked the read button by mistake." "Yeah fucking right! Give it back." I was really pissed off at that point. My voice was getting louder and shakier, due to both. My fella is the unimaginatively-named Lad. It’s a flexible name. Sometimes he’s Laddie, or Laddie Boy, Laddie Bucko, Lad-old-Pup, or any number of other variations. He responds to all of them. He’s not a large dog by any means, but he’s big for his breed. He’s mostly black, a deep glossy black, with a white blaze on his chest, a little more white on his forehead and behind his ears, and a couple of spotty white socks. We keep that fur nice and clean and silky despite his uncanny ability to find. More

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