Togo Goes on Assignment is published weekly as a series. If you came in late, you might want to go back to the beginning. Or, if you’re cut from the same adventuresome cloth as Togo, feel free to read on and figure things out as you go. Click here to go to the first scene.
As the triple-thickness steel doors rolled back at the bottom of the stairs, Togo squinted into the piercing light of the S.H.E.D. Headquarters anteroom. Typical government decor of white tile, light gray walls, a picture of the President, and gray metal chairs. At the end of the long, narrow waiting area was an equally gray desk occupied by a lone agent.
Togo strode quickly to the desk and scanned its surface. There was nothing on the desk at all. The agent studied him from behind thick lenses.
“Top Dog, reporting as requested,” Togo offered.
The agent blinked slowly. Twice.
“I know who you are. Our scanners outside verified your general description and I was able to get a DNA analysis from your breath when you sniffed the fire hydrant. You provided a somewhat unbecoming picture.”
The agent, a “Mr. Waverly” according to his identification tag, reached inside a drawer and pulled out a single piece of paper. “Have a seat and let me verify some information.”
Togo pushed the closest gray chair over to the desk and hopped up smartly. “Fire away, my good man,” Togo said.
Waverly looked up from the paper, sighed, and scrawled something illegible at the top. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet on top of the desk. Fumbling for a second with some sort of government-issued mobile phone, he punched several keys after squinting at the paper. A large television monitor emerged from the ceiling behind him and Togo’s picture from the fire hydrant and personal information flashed overhead.
“Please look over your record and let me know if anything needs to be updated,” Waverly chanted.
Togo, reaching back on his early training, read Waverly’s unseemly posture and overall demeanor as an agency technique to throw him off guard. Leaning on that same training, Togo decided to mirror Waverly’s behaviors to signal that he was aware of the game and had arrived ready to play.
Swinging his back feet up to the desk, Togo smiled inwardly at his own cunning and began settling back to view the expression on Waverly’s face. He was about halfway into that maneuver when he realized that it is physically impossible for a dog to prop his hind feet on a desk while maintaining a sitting position in a chair. Fortunately, Togo had started his movement with sufficient speed that he was able to salvage what could have been an embarrassing floor flop to a half-gainer with a twist, executing a perfect landing.
Although not the effect he had intended, Togo congratulated himself on a splendid gymnastics move. It would have been better had he not ended back on all fours and facing the door with his back to Mr. Waverly.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Waverly asked.
“Certainly,” Togo muttered. “I thought I heard someone come in behind me. Lightning reflexes, you know.”
“Sure,” the agent answered. “Just verify the information on the screen and Ms. Lance will see you.”
Togo glanced up and nodded. “All correct.”
Waverly pushed yet another button on his phone and a door opened behind him. He pointed. “Ms. Lance is the third door to the left.”
It had been some time since Togo had been to headquarters. But the inner hallway was the same. Lining the walls were pictures of past agents of S.H.E.D. He slowed a bit as he came to his own portrait.
He’d been a younger dog then with less gray hair. And he was dressed for an elegant evening. “Not a bad picture to be remembered by,” Togo thought.
Knocking at the third door on the left, Togo heard a familiar voice. “Come in, Top Dog.”
Crossing the threshold, Togo felt a rush of old feelings as he stood before his old friend and partner, Margot Lance.
Critics call this series "gripping", "mysterious", and a "must read". Audible version not translated to human. Listen to a sample: Bark Bark, scratch, Bark, sniff.