The puppies and Mr. Javier may have been eager when we first left to hear everything that happened with Jefferson Hope. But that eagerness did not extend to waiting up several hours for our return. So, we found them all asleep in the living room when we arrived home: turtle and puppies all happily tangled together in one big reptile/canine heap.

Nor had they wakened by the time the dawn broke and, with it, the sound of the early edition of the newspaper hitting the door downstairs.

When we’d first arrived home, the dog needed to roll around on his back for a while on the floor as he sometimes feels compelled to do, and I asked him to do so in his bedroom, so as not to wake the others. In reality, I’d wanted to make another telephone call outside of his hearing.

After he rejoined me, the dog and I had stayed up all night talking: about Jefferson Hope, about the previous cases Bones had worked on, about life itself. Now the dog looked at the sleeping turtle, no doubt hoping he’d wake to retrieve the paper, but the turtle was out cold.

“I suppose that I shall have to get my own paper this once,” the dog said.

“And I suppose I shall have to make us tea,” I said, padding off toward the kitchen.

“You can do that?” the dog said, incredulous.

“How do you think I managed during the Cat Wars?” I said. “You don’t imagine I’d drag poor Mr. Javier into battle with me, do you?”

He still looked surprised and so I felt compelled to add:

“I, my dear Bones, am a feline of many talents.”