With a resigned sigh and a shrug, Diane rose to her feet again and picked up the heavy bag of meal, slipping out of the wire gate to the bitch's kennel and moving toward the one dog that was left to feed. Wolf, the son of one of the three finest German Shepherd champions in the country, lived in solitary comfort with the biggest shelter and the longest run of the yard to accommodate his sleek, powerful body's need for exercise. Except at mating time, he was seldom allowed to run with the other animals for fear that some mishap might mar the dog's perfect lines, lines that had proved to be worth almost as much in dog show prizes as in stud fees. Wolf was her husband's pride and joy. For that reason, she thought quizzically, Diane could never quite sort out her feelings about the monstrous black and tan beast.

Pulling her trench-coat more snugly around her against the sharp damp chill of the sunless morning, she stared inside the wire-fence enclosure for some sign of the magnificent brute. Like the true aristocrat he was, Wolf often slept later in the mornings than the other dogs, and Bill had frequently warned her not to step into the pen without first announcing her identity to the dog. It was dangerous to surprise him in his sleep because, as her husband had often warned her, his instincts were to attack a stranger, and besides, the dogs were always a little crazy when the bitches were in heat, such as some of them were now. It was several young bitches this time, ones that they had raised from puppies, so they would have to wait one more season before they could be mated. But the worried young dogs did not know that, and neither did the anxious males who had yelped and howled all last night against the fences that separated them from their breeding partners.