“Damn,” he muttered. He scowled at me, then righted himself. “Energetic little cuss, isn’t he?”

He stomped toward the door.

“You’re welcome,” I said under my breath. I underestimated his hearing. He whirled around, still scowling, and put his hands on his hips.

“Yes, I’m an ungrateful old devil, aren’t I?” he said. “I’m well aware of how lucky I was just now that it was you standing there instead of some wilting lily who couldn’t keep me from falling on my keister. Now come watch my TV show.”

With that, he stormed out.

Five

Since I’ve always found it difficult to sit still and watch television without something to keep my hands busy, I brought along a project to work on during Dr. Blake’s documentary. I unearthed a suitably sized three-ring notebook, a hole punch, and some tab dividers, and was turning Karen’s inch-thick sheaf of notes into a more organized manual.

“You’ll miss half the good footage,” Blake grumbled.

“We’re recording it, aren’t we?” I asked. “I’ll rewatch it later, when I can give it my undivided attention.”

That mollified him a little, though he did keep frowning whenever I rustled papers or snapped the binder rings open or closed.

“Your friend will probably be back to claim Timmy before you finish that,” Rob said, during one of the commercials.

“If she is, great,” I said. “But in the meantime, I’m tired of having to leaf through this whole wad of paper every time I need some bit of information.”

“Quiet!” Dr. Blake said. “I’m on again.”

At least Timmy seemed to be enjoying the show—an Animal Planet special on sea turtles, with a lot of emphasis on the problems they faced from poachers and smugglers. He spent the commercial breaks begging turtle rides from Michael and Rob. Fortunately, turtle rides were much less strenuous than horsie rides, since they consisted of sitting on the turtle’s back while it crawled at a comfortable pace.

“I’m a turtle,” Michael said, whenever Timmy urged him to go faster. “This is as fast as I go.”

And I had to confess that it was interesting to watch the show with Blake in the room, and get some of the inside scoop. He beamed with pride during some segments, but he was clearly still outraged by the poachers and smugglers and frustrated by what I gathered were network limitations on how savagely he could condemn them.

“In some cultures,” the on-screen Dr. Blake intoned, “sea turtle eggs are erroneously believed to have an aphrodisiac effect.”

“Should have let me say which damned ignorant cultures,” the live Dr. Blake muttered. “Bloody peasant superstition.”

“This belief—which is completely without any scientific validity—has tragic consequences for the sea turtles,” said the on-screen Blake.

“Tragic? Try criminal,” the real Dr. Blake said. “If more people would think with their brains instead of their—”

“Dr. Blake!” Mother exclaimed, with a pointed look at Timmy.

Dr. Blake subsided into the occasional growl.

The final segment of the hour featured a raid on some suspected turtle-egg smugglers.