The footfalls came quickly.  Queenie's highly strung senses strained to separate the eerie rising and falling of the ever-harsh Yukon wind from the rattling of loosened window panes, the scratching of pine boughs on the roof and the popping of the roaring fire, the heat from which was slowing roasting the Sergeant's official issue Mountie Boots into something resembling the weekly special at Bonanza Bill's Steak House.  

As the heavy sound of footsteps hit the porch and headed for the cabin's only door, Queenie tried desperately to decipher what she heard. Height? Weight? But, her master's incessant babbling was interfering with the calculations!

"Do you think my hair's too yellow? Maybe next time, I should try something with a little more orange in it," she cooed from the bathroom. Queenie let out a low growl. She had read the series of letters from the Sergeamt's prospective blind date. He had described himself as slightly built and only 5'1". These pounding footsteps outside didn't match up! Something was not right. She could feel it. There! Outside the door, something big...and very manlike was standing.  Every hair on Queenie's back stood straight up.

Then, the domestic quietude of this perfect Yukon evening was suddenly altered forever by a heavy knock.