The two detectives sat at the long, festively decorated table, surrounded by their closest friends and co-workers. Huggy had reserved the back room, the one he always rented out for parties. But this time, the gathering was of a more personal nature. The proprietor carefully kept the door closed, so his paying customers wouldn't see the giant black and tan dog perched on his own chair, seated at the table between his two humans, Starsky and Hutch.
Around the animal’s neck hung a wide purple ribbon, with a bronze colored medallion, engraved with the words, “Valor & Service”. Gina Ashton sat to Starsky's left, beaming with pride in the dog she'd helped train. Occasionally, she leaned forward and peered around Starsky to observe Sam’s reaction to the conversations around him.
Hutch's latest love, a nurse named Sue Johns, sat next to him, enjoying the company of Hutch's eclectic group of friends. They varied from Police Captain Dobey and his family, to animal rights activist, Mary Peterson. With exception of the Dobey children, the youngest was sixteen year old Kiko, Hutch’s ward from the ‘Big Brother Program, and the oldest, a nice elderly couple named Wilson, who lived in a local nursing home. Starsky and Hutch never actually said how they met the couple, but she had a feeling it was an interesting story.
Everyone talked at once, and the dog watched them with animated interest for awhile, before turning his attention to more basic pursuits. Knowing what a ‘chow hound’ the rottie was, Gina figured sitting so close to the delectable tray of cheeses and deli meats must have taken every ounce of restraint he could muster. The dog’s big mouth watered as he leaned in just a little closer, then furtively glanced first to the right, and then to the left, to see if either of his humans was watching.
Gina watched, curious if Sam’s training would win out, preventing him from stealing food, no matter how hungry he may be. Inch by inch, he brought his big head closer to the food, moving at an almost indiscernible pace. Gina waited until he looked ready to make his final move. “Sam...”
The massive head jerked back quickly, before turning guiltily in her direction. “Ask nicely,” she whispered.
Sam cocked his head to one side, considering her words.
“Speak softly, and I’ll give you a bite.”
‘Speak softly.’ Now, there was a command he understood. Maybe he’d just give it a try. “Bwoof.”
Gina smiled, pleased with his response. “Good boy!” She reached over and speared a slice of turkey with her fork, rolled it up, leaned around Starsky, to drop it into Sam’s waiting mouth. The dog chomped and smacked loudly, drawing the attention of the other party-goers.
“What was all that about?” Starsky turned and came eye to eye with the big dog. “You stealin’ food again?” Despite the accusatory words, Starsky’s voice was a warm mixture of affection and amusement. “Think just ‘cause you won a medal you can get away with anything, right?”
Minnie took another sip of her beer, and watch quietly, fascinated by the change in Starsky’s demeanor when interacting with the dog. His gentle nature, rarely seen by most people, seemed to be triggered by Sam. “Can you tell us exactly what that medal’s for, Mary,” she asked. “We still haven’t gotten a straight answer from these two.”
Mary Peterson laughed, always glad to talk about one of her successful cases. “Well, when the guys arrived in Seattle, most of the competitions Sam was registered for were finished, and it was too late for him to participate. But when the judges heard what the boys and Sam had been through trying to get there, they were extremely impressed. So they unanimously voted to award him a special medal, acknowledging his role in capturing those two thugs, and helping to save his handlers’ lives.”
“He would’a won a lot more medals if we’d gotten there in time for him to compete,” Starsky boasted.
“We’re going back next year,” Hutch added. “We’ve got twelve months to train. We’re gonna kick ass then, huh, boy?” He reached up and scratched the big dog under the chin. Sam woofed loudly, affirming Hutch’s prediction.
“So when do you guys go back to work?” Huggy asked.
“Tomorrow,” Dobey answered for them. “And that reminds me...Starsky, the Commissioner has approved your requisition for a new vehicle.”
Astonished, Starsky’s mouth fell open. “That’s terrific, Cap’n!”
“Yes, I was surprised myself. Seems he has a friend who owns a Ford dealership. He’s offered to replace your car with a brand new Pinto.” Dobey smiled roundly, waiting for his words to sink in.
Starsky’s grin quickly transformed to a look of sheer horror. “What?! You got’a be kiddin’!”
Hutch looked down, hoping to hide the merriment in his eyes.
“Cap’n, I can’t be seen drivin’ a Pinto. I got’a reputation to protect. Those things are just tin cans on wheels. I mean, even Earl couldn’t make a Pinto into a decent car!”
Dobey held up a hand, warding off Starsky’s tantrum, while the rest of the guests laughed and whispered among themselves. “That’s final, Starsky! Take it or leave it.”
“Oh man, tough break, Starsky,” Huggy sympathized.
“Cap’n, you got’a get ‘em to do better than that,” Starsky pleaded.
“I don’t know, Starsk. Maybe with a Pinto you can pick up some ‘real cute little fillies’.” Hutch snickered, unable to resist a laugh at his partner’s expense.
Starsky’s face took on a green hue, much like the time he’d gotten hold of those bad burritos. Dobey winked at Hutch then looked over at Starsky again. “Don’t be so ungrateful. It could be worse. He could’ve specified the station wagon version.” This brought another round of laughs and giggles.
“Go on, all of ya. I’m hurtin’ here, and you guys think it’s funny,” Starsky grumbled in his best ‘martyr’ voice.
Deciding Starsky had suffered enough, Hutch reached into his jeans pocket, produced a key, and dropped it on the table in front of Starsky. “Quit your whining, Starsk.”
Distraught, Starsky stared down at the Ford key on the table. “So this is it, huh? This is what I’ve been reduced to?”
“Starsky, what I’m trying to tell you is, the department okayed purchasing you a new car, but the amount approved wasn’t enough to pay for another Torino. So all the people you see here, and your fellow officers gave donations to make up the difference. There’s a new Gran Ford Torino sitting out front, complete with the same gaudy paint job as the one you lost. Hope you enjoy it, partner.”
Starsky swallowed hard, holding back the lump he felt at the back of his throat, overwhelmed by his friends’ generosity. Sam reached over and licked his cheek, and Starsky thought for sure he’d lose his composure.
Seeing how moved the man was, his friends quietly allowed him a moment. “Uh...I...I don’t know what to say.” He glanced around the table slowly, looking at each of them, one by one. “You guys are the best.” His voice broke on the last word.
Clearing his throat, Hutch spoke up, diverting attention from Starsky. “Okay! Let’s eat and be merry. Then, if you’re all smart, you’ll go home while it’s still safe—because Starsky and the Red Striped Tomato are back on the streets!”
Looking over at his partner, Hutch smiled. Starsky tried to thank him—but found his voice too thick with emotion to form the words. But words weren’t really necessary. Never had been, never would be. Hutch nodded, letting him know he understood.