"Gorgeous creature you got there,” exclaimed Mike Bresnick. The tall, lanky man stared across the fence separating his well-manicured lawn from the landscaping disaster of his neighbors, the Joneses.

 

"How did they breed those zigzags into the coat?" he wondered aloud, swatting away gnats from his oval face.

 

The object of his inquiry, a puppy with an overabundance of cowlicks and seemingly predetermined, symmetrical color patterns, hopped back and forth between its two newest playmates: the enraptured Jones kids.

 

"Ya got me," said Zed Jones, the children's father. "Can't go wrong with this new hybrid. Called a Dyna Doodle. Thirty-three percent Poodle, thirty-three percent Pit Bull, thirty-three percent Greyhound." The short, round man spoke in wheezes and grunts. "When fully mature, this 'lil shit will outsmart, outrun, and overpower any dog in the neighborhood.”

 

Jones took a hearty swig of his beer and tossed the empty can in his weedy lawn. "Audrey, beer me!” he shouted at the screen door.

 

“I thought my Chauncey was the latest and greatest crossbreed on the market,” remarked Bresnick. He glanced back at his chained pet lying in the grass. Its thick, matt-free coat was a dog lover’s dream, but not well-suited for Arizona's unrelenting heat. Hazel eyes peered out from beneath a mop of endless curls, and a parched tongue dangled from its mouth.

 

Jones leaned against the fence with both forearms and beckoned Bresnick closer with a flicker of his head. A sweat-stained polo and ill-fitting biking shorts clung to his robust form.

 

The lanky man sauntered over and laid a hand on the fence.

 

"I'm all ears, Jones."

 

"You know what really gets my rocks off, Bresnick?”

 

Zed’s usual smirk quickly became a serious stare.

 

"Couldn’t tell ya," Bresnick chuckled, not buying into his neighbor’s show of bravado.

 

"Protecting my family, especially from those delinquents down the street.” Zed winked and wiped his perspiring brow with a pale forearm.

 

Bresnick smiled tepidly and redirected the discussion.

 

"Anyway, what about the other one percent of the pup’s pedigree?"

 

"The man knows his math, I see. Ehh??" Zed jabbed a forefinger in Bresnick's direction, winking continually.

 

"Just basic arithmetic, really." Bresnick shrugged and looked away in mild annoyance.

 

"Can you keep a secret? What Audrey and the kids don't know is that this animal has unique…attributes." Jones grabbed the puppy by its neck, holding it like a trophy.

 

"Tell him your secret, Mongol. Go on," he jerked the dog violently, coaxing a mild whimper.

 

"He's a bit shy, but the truth is, his breeder was able to score a black-market gene mod. All the pups in Mongol's litter have scotopic vision - they can see in the dark." Jones let out a high-pitched giggle. "My bank account took a hit, but it's money well-spent. Can't wait until he's fully grown; those degenerates will think twice before raiding my shed aga–"

 

"Whatcha got there, Vance?" Bresnick interrupted, distracted by a tall, athletic man jogging by. Besides him trotted a compact dog with clipped ears standing at alert.

 

Jones immediately rolled his eyes and scoffed.

 

As Vance slowed, his well-muscled calves and quads bulged in protest. The short-haired, cobalt-colored dog matched his deceleration with eerie precision.

 

“Bresnick, Jones,” Vance acknowledged each neighbor in turn. “This is Tecumseh, the district’s newest K9 officer. She’s staying with me until we can get another partition erected in the kennels.”

 

Despite the heat, the animal’s jaw remained shut.

 

“What breed is she?” asked Bresnick.

 

“Couldn’t tell you,” Vance responded nonchalantly, “but the first year of her life was spent in rigorous training with CanineNomics–”

 

“Wait, weren’t they in the news a few years back? Something to do with testing on dogs?” asked Bresnick.

 

Vance sidestepped the question and continued.

 

“What I can say is that Tecumseh has a strong understanding of human speech patterns, facial expressions, and body language. Essentially, she can sniff out the bad apples."

 

"What'd you fork–"

 

"Don't ask, Jones," Vance interjected flatly, “I’m a field agent, not a procurement officer.”

 

Taken aback, Jones scowled, then looked back at his screen door. “Audrey, beer me already!”

 

Tecumseh studied the men with piercing blue eyes, following the conversation from speaker to speaker.

 

"Let’s see some fancy tricks, pooch," Jones said mockingly, squatting in front of Tecumseh.

 

She remained motionless except for her snout, which began twitching in earnest as Jones neared.

 

“Take it easy, Zed,” Vance sighed.

 

“Just wanna make sure my tax dollars are well spent.” Jones snapped his fingers at Tecumseh.

 

“Back up, Jones. She’s government property and hasn’t been socialized yet,” cautioned Vance.

 

Jones ignored the warning and edged forward. Man and dog locked eyes, probing. Jones' brow furrowed in dismay; something in Tecumseh’s gaze unnerved him. The canine inched closer to Jones, her nose twitching ever more vigorously, catching the scent of his insecurity. In those blue eyes, Jones saw his secret exposed. Face reddening, he drew back an open hand, readying to smack the dog.

 

“Owww!!” Jones reached for the back of his stinging head. A golf ball hit the ground and rolled towards Tecumseh.

 

“Beer yourself, asshole.” Audrey approached the men casually. Even with makeup, the bags under her eyes and premature stress lines were evident.

 

“Whatcha got there, Vance?” she asked, puffing away gray hairs from her forehead.

 

“Meet Tecumseh, the district’s newest canine officer.” Relief washed over Vance’s face at the unexpected intrusion.

 

Audrey squatted next to the dog, and slowly raised a hand in greeting. Tecumseh sniffed it and began licking vigorously.

 

“Atta boy, Tecumseh,” said Audrey, gently stroking the dog’s head. The two locked eyes for a long time, eventually prompting Audrey to crack an awkward smile. In the course of ten seconds, she looked ten years younger.

 

“Huh. Tecumseh’s an empath,” she said, shooting Zed a look of disdain, “and you could learn a thing or two from her.”