"Jesus, look at Wolf out there. The bastard looks better than ever," Bill Hartley enthused proudly as he stood gazing out the living room window at the kennels. The good-looking twenty-four-year-old young man did not wait for his young wife's reply and added, "If I'm lucky enough to buy Pete Sangler's prize bitch up in New Hampshire, just think what a beautiful litter she and Wolf will produce. We'll make a Goddamned fortune out of the pups!"

Diane Hartley, his wife, an extremely pretty twenty-one-year-old blonde, sat in haughty silence across the room, sipping daintily from her whiskey sour cocktail as she fought down the impulse to say what was really on her mind. She resented the fact that she would be left alone again while Bill was off on another of his frequent business trips, selling some of their own valuable dogs and negotiating for new championship breeders to upgrade their stock at Oak Tree. As usual, she would be left in charge of running the kennels by herself, a demanding responsibility that both intimidated and frightened her. God knows, the voluptuous young blonde thought bitterly to herself, her wealthy aristocratic parents had socially-groomed and educated her for far more important things than playing hostess to three dozen hairy brutes, no matter how valuable and expensive they were, while her thoughtless husband deserted her for days… sometimes weeks… at a time.

"What's the matter, honey?" he asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. "Now don't tell me you're going to start complaining again just because I've got to make a business trip."

"Oh no, not really," the satin-skinned blonde answered in a sulky, slightly hurt voice, her full lower lip pouting out to give her the appearance of a beautiful little girl who has been unfairly treated. "It's just that… well, we've only been married for eight months, and you've been gone almost half of that time, while I stay home and take care of the dogs… You know they frighten me."