'What's he saying?' Ruby's eyes were the size of Frisbees.

Something snapped, and I roled over her like a tsunami.

'It's a mistake! A goddamn mistake!' It was my voice, shril and harsh, though I hadn't consciously formed the words.

The room felt hot, the smel of steam and fabric softener cloying. I spun and rushed for the door.

Boyd flew after me, paws jumbling the carpet runner as we raced down the hal. I burst out the door and across the lawn, the bel jangling in my wake. Ruby must have thought I was possessed by the Archfiend himself.

When I opened the car Boyd bounded in and centered himself in back, his head protruding through the gap between the seats. I hadn't the wil to stop him.

Sliding behind the wheel, I did some deep breathing, hoping to turn a page in my mind. My heartbeat normalized. I began to feel guilty about my outburst, but couldn't force myself to return to the kitchen to apologize.

Boyd chose that moment to lick my ear.

At least the chow doesn't question my integrity, I thought.

'Let's go.'

===OO=OOO=OO===

During the ride into Bryson City, I answered cal after cal on my cel phone, each a reporter. After seven 'no comments,' I turned it off.

Boyd shifted between his center spot and the left rear window, reacting with the same low growl to cars, pedestrians, and other animals. After a time he ceased serving notice on everyone of just who he was, and stared placidly as the sights and sounds of the mountains flashed by.

I found everything I needed at an Ingles supermarket on the southern edge of town. Herbal Essence and Gilette Good News for me, Kibbles 'n Bits for Boyd. I even sprang for a box of Milk-Bone jumbos.

Buoyed by finding the razors, I decided on an outing.

Approximately three miles beyond the Bryson City line, Everett Street becomes a scenic roadway that snakes through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park above the north shore of Lake Fontana. Officialy the highway is caled Lakeview Drive. To locals it is known as the Road to Nowhere.

In the 1940s, a two-lane blacktop led from Bryson City along the Tuckasegee and Little Tennessee Rivers to Deal's Gap near the Tennessee state line. Realizing the creation of Lake Fontana would flood the highway, the TVA promised a new north-shore road. Construction began in 1943, and a 1,200-foot tunnel was eventualy built.

Then everything stopped, leaving Swain County with a road and tunnel to nowhere, and with wounded feelings as to its low rank in the universal order of things.

'Want to take a ride, boy?'

Boyd showed enthusiasm by placing his chin on my right shoulder and running his tongue up the side of my face. One thing I admired about him was his agreeable nature.