From the day he was born, Llewelyn Roy had a special bond with his maternal grandfather. I’m so grateful every time my muse gives me something to build upon that relationship. Being one of the original characters in the Long Division series makes Tracy the oldest in that regard. In the year that this story takes place, he is also one of the oldest in terms of age. Don’t worry, my coyote still has more than a few good years left in him.

All of the books in the Long Division series are available in paperback and electronic editions at LD-Books.com. These books contain mature content for adult readers age 18 and up only.

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Baptism
August 2008

Llewelyn Roy Connelley opened his eyes at the sound of a twig snapping outside of his tent. His sensitive canine ears detected the sound of footsteps padding away from their campsite. That was followed by the distinct sound of urine splashing against a tree trunk accompanied by an extended “ahhhh!” of relief. Roy pressed a button on his wristwatch, illuminating its face. It was just after 1am. Grandpa was right on schedule.

This was Roy’s third summer in Missouri for a week of camping with his dad and grandfather. The trip was made even more special with Alex, his best friend, joining them for the second year in a row. Roy looked over at the donkey. In the dim moonlight that filtered through the mesh window of their tent, Roy could see that Alex was lying on his side, back to his tent mate. The equine snored softly.

The young German Shepherd put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the night: There were crickets, frogs down by the lake, a distant owl. Strangely absent was the sound of his grandfather’s return to the tent that he shared on this trip with his son-in-law, Roy’s father. The old coyote should have been back by now.

Roy slithered out of his sleeping bag and, careful not to wake Alex, he very slowly unzipped the tent’s door flap. He stepped outside and kneeled to close the tent once more. Rising to his feet, the 14-year-old boy turned his muzzle skyward. Even under the light of a gibbous moon, the night sky was awash with stars he could never see from his light-polluted Chicago back yard. Roy looked toward the lake where moonlight shimmered off the water. Against that silvery backdrop, the boy could see the silhouette of a coyote standing on the small dock. He walked the couple of dozen yards to join his grandfather.

Tracy Becker was lost in memory when the click of toe claws on the planks of the dock caught his attention. “You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked without turning his gaze from the water.

“Is everything okay, Grandpa?” Roy asked, stepping up beside the elder canine.

“Yeah. I was just remembering nights like this with my family when we were driving all over the country.” Tracy inhaled deeply. Exhaled. “The lakes were different. The clouds were different. Hell, even the stars changed with the seasons. But family… family was constant. There’s nothing more important, Roy. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t, Grandpa.”

“I miss your Poppy and Grammy,” the coyote said wistfully. “Dog knows I wish Terry could be here with us instead of in San Francisco. He’d love this place.”

“You were really good friends when you were growing up, huh?”

Tracy chuckled. “Mostly. We were inseparable, being twins and living out of our family car. Doesn’t mean we didn’t get on each other’s nerves sometimes. Grammy knew how to straighten us out, though, whenever we warranted a little… discipline.”

“I think it’s cool how you traveled around like that,” Roy said. “I bet you swam in a lot of different lakes.”

Tracy nodded. “Your Poppy knew all the best camp sites and we stayed near a lake most of the time. And if we had to stay in a motel, me and Terry always begged for one with a swimming pool.”

“Just as good,” Roy asserted.

“Almost,” said Tracy. “You can’t skinny-dip in a motel pool.” The coyote scratched his chin in thought. “Well, you aren’t supposed to anyway.”

Roy looked at his grandfather with astonishment. “You used to go skinny-dipping?”

Tracy coughed into his paw. “We did in lakes. Not in motel pools.”

“Did Grammy or Poppy ever catch you?” Roy asked.

“Oh, heck!” Tracy said with a wide smile. “They were usually the first ones in the water.”

“They went skinny-dipping too?” the young dog gasped in disbelief.

“You have to understand,” Tracy explained, “that my parents were different. They had to be, living out on the road with two young boys like they did. They didn’t share the ‘hang-ups’ that most people have about seeing naked bodies. In the 1960s, people like my mom and dad were called ‘hippies’ or ‘flower children’. When I was a youngster in the 1950s, your Grammy and Poppy were way ahead of their time. Anyway, swimming nude just seemed normal for our family.” The old coyote chuckled. “I don’t think your mom would approve, though.” He looked at his grandson and added, “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to keep secrets from your mother.”

“I’m still not going to tell her,” said Roy.

Tracy looked out over the lake. He tilted his head as if listening to someone. Then he nodded and spoke, “It’s been a long time. What do you say?” Without waiting for a response, he unsnapped his tail strap and pushed his tighty-whiteys to his feet.

“What? Grandpa are you…?” Roy never finished asking his question before his bare-assed grandfather flung himself off the dock and into the lake.

Tracy surfaced, sputtering. “What are you waiting for?” he asked his grandson. “The water is perfect.”

Roy looked back toward the camp site where his swim trunks hung on a stick near their fire pit. He looked down at his grandfather who grinned up at him from the water. After one more brief moment of hesitation, the young Shepherd yanked his t-shirt over his head and discarded his pajama bottoms. Night air rippling through his fur, Roy leapt off the dock. He barked out a laugh when his head broke the surface.

“I knew you had some Becker blood in you,” Tracy informed his grandson with a broad, toothy smile.

“It’s the first time I ever did this.”

“Some people say there’s a first time for everything.” Tracy rolled to his back and floated.

Roy dog paddled over to where the old coyote bobbed on the water. “Hey, Grandpa?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re right about family being most important. I’m glad to be a Becker like you.”

Tracy smiled at his grandson. “I’m happy to hear that. But you know you should always be proud of being a Connelley too.”

The two canines paddled about, watched only by the moon and stars. When they grew tired of swimming, the two of them climbed out of the lake, shook the water from their fur, and laid side-by-side on the dock to dry in the warm summer breeze. Roy listened while his grandfather told stories of growing up on the road before finally settling down on his own in Chicago. The boy had heard some of those before, but he never grew tired of listening to the old coyote’s tales. He prompted his grandfather for stories of his namesake. The young dog’s ears pricked up with interest when Tracy confessed that he skinny-dipped once with ‘Uncle Roy’ in a motel pool in the middle of the night. At last, the two males rose and pulled their sleepwear back on over slightly damp fur before making their way back to the camp.

Roy quietly unzipped the tent. Alex still slept like a log. As he snuggled back into his sleeping bag, Roy considered telling his best friend about skinny-dipping. One day he would, but for now it would remain a special time between him and his grandpa. The young dog drifted off to sleep.