Posse Test Mode.

I had settled down to work on a blog entry. I had my laptop, my coffee, a couple of cookies, and was comfortably attired in my nylon around-the-house shorts. A professional workspace for writing.

The barking from the front door hit like a sonic boom, and crescendoed. My startle response coated my bare legs and my chair with steaming coffee. I could have sued McDonalds, except I made the coffee myself.

Then, as Tuppence hit a howl pitch that would delaminate Formica, I tried to get up and go see what evil approached. In doing so, I tangled in my laptop cord and slammed a hip into a lamp table. I'm sure that left a mark.

Finally untangled and just slightly scalded, I limped into the front room. By then the Posse had stopped barking, and was calmly moving to curl up on the furniture.

“WHAT the hell was that?” I gritted.

Circling in lie down prep, Tuppy muttered, “A test.”

“A what?! I'm burned, bruised, and battered, and you say, 'test'?”

Finally Tuppence stopped and looked at me. “That was a Test of the Emergency Barkcast System. Had it been an actual emergency, you would have been told where to tune, and what to do.”

“That was all over nothing?”

“It was over a test. That's something. It could have been anything, we need to keep the system finely honed.”

“Could have been.......” Again, they had me sputtering.

“It could have been an Ape Walking, Neanderthal Browed, Moss Backed Swamp Stomper.”

“Yeah, right here in the 'burbs. You two are crazy.”

“Maybe,” says Tommy, wriggling into a cushion, “But we're not the one who writes about talking to dogs.”

“So, when's the next test of this Emergency Barkcast System?”

Tupp, “If we told you, it wouldn't be a test. Give us a treat or go back to work, or both.”

I walked out. They settled in to work on their primary occupation, nap testing. They're sent naps from Beagle Central, and they test them for Depth and Duration. Tupp told me that.