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made Thanksgiving dinners a pleasure once again. After Pete Moss discovered this extensible apparel and filled me in, we never looked back, although both Cynthia and Meg were ready to disparage them as "maternity pants for men."
    Baxter lost no time in closing the gap. I was puffing uphill and he passed me like I was standing still, before crashing into the mountain laurel and disappearing. I didn't see him again for the better part of the run, but then, as I turned for home, he lurched out of the undergrowth in front of me, licking his chops, and wagging his back end furiously. I knew that look. Baxter wasn't adept at catching live varmints, but he was perfectly willing to follow his nose and devour almost any small animal that had expired or was otherwise defenseless. By the fur still clinging to his muzzle, I suspected rabbit, or maybe a nest of baby rabbits, and decided not to tell Meg.
    Baxter is one of two animals that shares our home. Invited animals, anyway. Living out in the hinterlands, we were bound to have our share of mice, snakes, bats, the occasional raccoon, and whatever other critters gravitated toward the warmth of the house during the winter months. Our other invited guest isn't entirely domestic but is happy to share our space. He is a barn owl. Archimedes.
    I trotted across the field and headed toward the house. I'd put up a small barn in the last couple of years to house some tools. Meg kept her gardening equipment in there; I had a small tractor and an ATV — a four-seater Kawasaki Mule that I used to drive around the property and survey my realm. The little barn was also Archimedes' secondary hangout. I glanced up into the eaves as I ran by. He wasn't there. I hadn't seen him for a couple of days, but that wasn't unusual, especially when the snow began to melt. With no leaves on the trees, chipmunks and mice were easy pickings.
    Archimedes spent most of the winter in the house, perched on the head of the stuffed buffalo. If you didn't know better and happened into the room while he was resting, you might assume that he was part of the decor. A moment later, though, you'd be startled as he launched himself soundlessly into the air and glided though the house into the kitchen, where he'd land on the sill and trigger the electric eye that opened the window allowing him access to the great outdoors. He returned the same way. Over the years Archimedes had granted us stroking privileges but we knew that, despite his appreciation of the supplemental mice we offered him as a treat, he was a wild creature. He came and went as he pleased, and that pleased us.
    I huffed up to the front door, stopped and bent over, my hands on my knees, trying unsuccessfully to catch my breath. Baxter had his nose on the doorjamb, just waiting for a gap that he could exploit and shove his bulk through, heading into the house. Not looking up, I turned the knob and felt, rather than saw, Baxter bolt into the front hallway. Several minutes later my wind returned and I stood up, took my shoes off outside (something that never happened pre-Meg), and carried them back to the bedroom. I opened the back door, tossed the muddy shoes in a heap on the deck, peeled off my clothes and went into the bathroom to shower.

Chapter 4
     
    I climbed into my truck and pointed it toward town. It was a ten mile drive that usually took about twenty minutes. The only thing in the truck that could be considered new was the stereo system. I turned it on and the sound of one of Handel's coronation anthems, The King Shall Rejoice , filled the cab. The choir had given me this and a few other CDs as a Christmas gift, and I was working my way through them. The piece for choir and orchestra that I was listening to was written for the crowning of George II. It was my second favorite of Handel's coronation anthems, but the one with the best final movement. The double fugue — two melodies simultaneously played against each other right from the start — ended in