CHAPTER 1: LOCKJAW

Late one summer afternoon not so very long ago, Hank Reed, a chemical engineer, sat perched on a stool in front of his keyboard, entering some last minute data into the computer.  His laboratory was in downtown Chicago where his firm manufactured vitamins for the animal industry.  His dog, Buster, an Old English Sheep Dog, was in a corner sniffing an empty tin pie plate.  While Hank was intently typing on the computer keyboard, Buster quietly padded up behind him and barked suddenly, shocking Hank out of his concentration.  

"Whew! You really startled me, you nut," Hank said as he looked through the fur into Buster's eyes and playfully rubbed the dog's ears. 

"I sure wish you could talk.  I bet you'd have a lot to say."  He sat staring at his dog for a moment and said, "It would probably upset the whole world if dogs could talk."

For most of his thirty-five years, Hank had experimented with chemical inventions.  Moreover, he had distinguished himself by holding a dozen patents in every area from cosmetics to satellite communications.  He even looked like a scientist, with his graying black hair, well trimmed mustache, and old fashioned glasses that gave him an orderly and precise appearance. 

His wife, Robyn, a graceful green-eyed blonde, was at home, busily cooking, cleaning, sorting, and throwing things away, which was her way of keeping the Universe tidy. 

The third member of the family was their cute little freckled, jeaned, and pony-tailed tomboy, Anne, aged twelve, who, when she wasn't climbing a tree, was precariously walking the handrail of a bridge, or some other such activity that only the dog, Buster, her best friend, knew about.