It's fair to say Sarah was having a pretty good day up until Bongo wrestled the leashes out of her grip and ran off (presumably to investigate the muffled yelling coming from the cliff up ahead.) Even if he was kind of a handful, Bongo had three heads, which meant three leashes, which in turn meant three-times-fifteen-equals-forty-five bucks. This, in addition to the money she was making by walking Squid and Princess/Goober^* at the same time, meant she could pay the fine she had incurred by failing to meet the minimum payment on last month's MasterCard Statement. With any luck, the good people at Citicorp would then unfreeze her credit card.

Now, of course, the situation is kind of turning to shit. Bongo has run off up the hill, barking insanely for no discernable reason. There is something about that dog that immediatly struck Sarah as odd. Squid, who is something of a coward despite weighing almost as much as Sarah and having very sharp teeth optimized by several thousand years of evolution for tearing into flesh, is tugging frantically in the opposite direction. Princess/Goober has just fished a paper Taco Bell bag^* out of a nearby trash basket and is settling down in the mud, ready to defend her prize from the passing jogger.