A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

by Aleksa Baxter

  "Janice." I smiled as politely as I could. "This is a dog bakery. Cats aren't allowed. It says it right there on the door."

  She set the cat on the table and let go of him. (Or her, who can tell?) "My Pookums has as much right to be here as any dog."

  "Well, no. Actually that's not true." I moved closer, not wanting to antagonize her, but also wanting to keep that cat away from the dog treat counter. I was just glad no one was there other than Fancy who was snoring away in her cubby.

  (If you'll recall the café and barkery is set up with two separate sides that have an area to pass through right by the back counter. On the barkery side there are some smaller nooks along the far wall for dogs that need to be left for a minute or two as well as well-spaced tables throughout the rest of the space that allow plenty of room for canine companions to join their owners while at the same time minimizing the possibility of any fights or someone tripping over a paw. Fancy has her very own cubby in the back corner with an extra-large dog bed where she spends most of the day snoring away. In the area between the café counter and the barkery counter there's also a little shop area with touristy items like mugs with our logo on them and pre-packaged dog treats. On the other side of that is the café counter.)

  Janice stood up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Are you saying that cats aren't allowed here?"

  "Yes. I am."

  Pookums chose that moment to jump down and run across the floor towards the bright and shiny items on sale in the touristy area. Within seconds he'd managed to swat down a handful of keychains and knock a mug to the floor where it shattered loudly, forcing Fancy to jump to her feet and bark in fright.

  "Jamie," I shouted. "I need your help. Now!" I glared at Janice. "That is why cats are not allowed in here. If you can't keep control of your pet, you can't be in here."

  "A dog would do the same thing," Janice spat back at me.

  "Well none has. We have a strict leash rule here. You're paying for that mug, by the way." I turned to quiet Fancy.

  "I am not. How can you run an establishment like this and expect to leave breakable goods just lying around like that? It's not my fault the mug broke."

  I waved a treat under Fancy's nose, but she'd spotted the cat and was not in the mood to quiet down. "Get your frickin' cat and get out of here," I hissed at Janice

  (I know. Not the best example of customer service. And especially not in a small town and with a witness who was on the other person's side. But honestly…)

  Jamie scooped Pookums up and smiled at both of us. He batted at her brunette braid as she cooed at him and walked towards Janice. "Here. Let me help you put him back in his case," she said, doing so before anyone could stop her.

  "You can't expect me to keep Pookums locked up the whole time I'm here," Janice huffed.

  I glared at her. "Actually, I don't. I expect you to take him home. Now."

  I sneezed. Crazy cat lady and her frickin' white-haired ball of allergies. If that cat was around for much longer I was going to need a shower or have to risk my throat swelling shut.

  Now, before we continue, I feel I need to say a few things because you may be a cat lover and I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I have nothing against cat lovers in general. I think anyone who can love any animal, be it a dog, cat, or rhinoceros, is a good person.

  And as a crazy dog lady myself I understand how someone can love their cat to the point of dressing it in costumes and talking to it in a baby voice. Only reason I don't do that with Fancy is she'd probably sit on me the first time I tried to put her in some weird outfit.

  So I have nothing against cat people. Or cats for that matter. (Other than the fact that I am insanely allergic to them and that, somehow psychically knowing this, they all try to rub up against my legs or sit on my face. True story: I once woke up to find my friend's kitten curled in a little ball on my throat.)

  So when I call her a crazy cat lady it has nothing to do with any other cat owner on this planet. I just wanted Janice Fletcher and her sneeze-inducing feline friend to leave.

  "This isn't fair." Janice glared at me as Patsy crowded up behind her nodding in agreement.

  "Life isn't fair. Now please leave my establishment. Do not make me call the cops." I'd finally gotten Fancy calmed down by throwing a handful of canine crunchies into her cubby, so walked back to Janice, ready to throw her out on her ear if I had to.

  "The cops!" Janice's face turned a violent shade of red. "You wouldn't dare!"

  I opened my mouth to say I would, too, but Jamie gently pushed me backward and stepped between us. "Ms. Fletcher, there really are a number of reasons we can't have cats here in the barkery. You have to see that. It's just not safe. And not hygienic to have a cat, or any animal really, running loose in a food establishment."

  She handed the carrier to Ms. Fletcher and gently guided her towards the door, Patsy trailing along uncertainly behind them.

  "I'm sorry we couldn't accommodate you and your cat." Jamie held the door open for them, smiling in such a way that she was just impossible to refuse. "But if you ladies want to come back sometime without the cat, I'd be more than happy to give you each a free cinnamon roll."

  Before they even knew what was happening, Janice, Patsy, and Pookums were outside and Jamie was closing the door in their face, calmly but firmly.

  (Somedays I wish I were her. I'm a little too fiery to pull something like that off as you might have noticed.)

  "Well." She pretended to dust her hands off. "Hopefully that's the last of that."

  "Hopefully. Thanks for the assist." I turned to Fancy. "And, you, young lady…You can't bark at customers like that."

  Jamie laughed and patted me on the shoulder. "I'd say that's the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you?"

  "Hey!"

  "It's true. You also can't be barking at customers. Not if you want us to be open six months from now."

  "I know, but…Seriously. She was looking for a fight."

  "Doesn't mean you needed to give her one."

  Jamie was right, but I didn't have to like it.

  Chapter Four

  At least one good thing happened that day, even if it came with an unpleasant surprise.

  Around one o'clock the barkery door chimed and I looked up to see who was there. The first person through the door was an attractive woman who was probably slightly older than I am. She wore slim slacks, a brightly colored top, and a tasteful, but expensive amount of jewelry. (All except her wedding ring which was visible from across the room.) Her pale blonde hair and skin told me she was probably from or descended from a long line of people from Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Germany, etc.

  She also had a dog with her. (Well, two, but we'll get to that in a moment.)

  The first dog, the real one, was an Irish wolfhound. He was tall—his head easily reached above her waist—but slim and wiry. I figured he and Fancy were about the same height but she probably had at least twenty pounds on him, if not more. Not that I thought she'd win in a fight. He looked nice enough, but there was a coiled energy to him that made me very glad his owner seemed to be in such firm control of him.

  Holding the door open for this intriguing pair of guests was none other than Lucas Dean—a man who should've been in jail if the world were in any way fair. (That would be the second dog I mentioned above.) He grinned at me from behind the woman with that cock-sure smile of his that charmed everyone but me.

  Don't get me wrong, I could acknowledge that Luke was a good-looking man in a "convince you to sneak out of your house at midnight and spend a few hours in the bed of his truck" sort of way. I just knew he was a lying, cheating jerk, too. And one that had broken Jamie's heart at least a half dozen times over the years. She kept going back to him, which was the worst of it.

  For a smart woman, she was horrible at choosing men.

  I gritted my teeth and forced a smile, focusing my attention on the woman. Luke I'd deal with later. He knew darned well he wasn't supposed to set foot
in the barkery or the café ever again.

  "Welcome to the Baker Valley Barkery and Café," I said. "May I?" I gestured towards the dog as I came around the counter with a canine crunchy in hand.

  "Yes. Hans loves a good treat." The woman barked some command in what sounded like German and Hans immediately sat. (I bet she wouldn't have had a problem getting Fancy to go home…)

  "Nice to meet you, Hans." I held my empty hand out to him to smell and then offered him the treat. He took it with what I can only call an extreme amount of class.

  "Hi. I’m Maggie." I held out my hand to his owner.

  The woman took it with a surprisingly firm grip. I was expecting some sort of limp squeeze and release, but she shook hands like a businesswoman. "Greta VanVeldenstein. I have moved here but construction continues on my home. Lucas says this is an excellent place to bring Hans for a break from the noise. He gave me samples of your treats. Hans likes them very much." Her accent was slightly Germanic, but not terribly strong.

  "Oh, wonderful. Welcome. I'm sure you'll love it here. Baker Valley is certainly one of my favorite places in the world. May I ask? Where are you originally from?"

  "Ah, the accent, yes? Germany. Although I have not been back since the death of my second husband." She smoothed a hand through her hair and turned towards the café side. "Lucas tells me you also have coffee and food?"

  Lucas stepped forward. "I'll get something for you, Ms. VanVeldenstein. Why don't you and Hans make yourselves comfortable. A soup and panini with a black coffee, perhaps?"

  She nodded. "Yes. Perfect. Thank you."

  Lucas shot me a grin as he dashed towards the café side. (And Jamie.) I wanted to grab him by the ear, drag him to the door, and throw him out, but I couldn't in front of my newest customer and he knew it.

  I smiled at Greta. "Well, as you can see, it's pretty quiet right now. So feel free to choose any table you want and let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

  "Will you join me? For lunch? I have a book, but I prefer company over a meal."

  "Um, sure. I can do that." I glanced towards where Lucas was leaning against the counter making Jamie laugh.

  "He will not join us. I promise."

  I winced. "That obvious, am I?"

  She shrugged one shoulder. "You will tell me why sometime. But not today. I do not think he is an ex?"

  "Oh no. Not mine at least."

  She looked more carefully towards the counter. "Ah, yes. I see now. Your friend. The other owner?"

  I nodded.

  "Then she must join us, too. And Lucas will go back to work."

  "I like that plan. Just give me a moment to get the rest of the food arranged and we'll be back to join you."

  As I raced to break up Luke and Jamie, and also prepare myself some soup and panini, Greta chose the table in the center of the picture window, Hans settling down comfortably at her feet. Despite her unfortunate association with Lucas Dean, I was giddy with excitement.

  I had my first real customer!

  Chapter Five

  Greta turned out to be delightful. It was clear from a few things she said here or there that she was not only wealthy but obscenely rich. I didn't mind, though, because she didn't look down her nose at either of us. She was just sweet and charming. A little odd, I'll give you that. She told us Hans was named for one of her husbands, but she wasn't quite sure which one he'd been. Probably number five or six; definitely not numbers one through four.

  "How many times have you been married?" I asked her, laughing.

  "It is so hard to remember. Some were very short. And some I think I married but maybe I did not. I believe Friedrich, my current husband, is number nine. Or ten? Maybe number eleven."

  Jamie laughed. "Why so many?"

  She shrugged a shoulder. "This is a good question. The first marriage was for love. I was young. He was handsome. That was all it took. The second marriage was for money. I was young. I was beautiful. He was not. But he was kind. And wealthy. And then…I do not know. I thought marriage was what you do, yes? Now? Perhaps not." She looked back and forth between us. "And you? You have been married, yes?"

  "No." I shook my head in horror. "I don't have time for any of that."

  Greta laughed. "You say this because you have not been married. The right husband can be very good for a woman." She narrowed her eyes at me. "But it is best that the first husband be for money. That is the mistake I made when young."

  I didn't even know what to say to that. "Ah…"

  "Oh, you think you marry for love?" She laughed. "This will disappoint you. He will be human. And you will be sad. Money is better. I will find you someone. My husband has a friend. He would make a good first husband. He is very old and very rich."

  I shook my head in horror. "Really, it's…"

  "No, no, no. I insist." She turned to Jamie. "And you, Jamie? Have you been married?"

  "No." Jamie looked away.

  "But you would like to be."

  "Um, yeah, I think so." She fiddled with her coffee spoon in a very un-Jamie-like way.

  I stared at her. Since when? Please tell me she wasn't thinking of marrying Lucas Dean.

  Greta nodded. "Then I will find you a rich man, too."

  Jamie started to open her mouth to object, but Greta patted her hand. "This Lucas is a fun man, yes? But he is not a man you marry."

  "I don't know about that. I mean he's…"

  "No. Listen to me. I have been married many, many times. I know what makes a good husband and Lucas…No. He does not." She patted Jamie's hand again. "We will find you a good husband. I think you would not want to be a mistress?"

  I almost spit out my Coke at that one. "No, Greta. Neither of us would like to be a mistress."

  She shrugged and sat back. "It would be easier if you would. More choices. But I understand. I too am not a good mistress."

  We were saved from the rest of that conversation by the jangle of the door as someone came in on the café side. "Be right there," Jamie called as she hustled away more quickly than was absolutely necessary.

  I gathered up the dishes from lunch. "I should probably get back to work myself. But I really hope you'll come back."

  "I will. The construction in my home is very loud. Hans and I need a break. May we stay?"

  "Of course. Stay as long as you'd like." I winced as I glanced around at all the empty tables. "Not like we're hurting for space right now."

  "It is a nice place you have here, Maggie. Give it time."

  "Thank you."

  I walked away buoyed by the thought of a new customer and perhaps a new friend. No doubt, Greta was half off her rocker, but sometimes those are the best sorts of friends to have.

  And Greta was true to her word. She was there at one o'clock every day for the rest of the week, with her laptop or her book to entertain her, and usually stayed until we closed at four. Hans just slept at her feet the whole time, ten times more well-behaved than Fancy. She's good—don't get me wrong—but Fancy does need to be let into the dog run out back every couple of hours and will definitely make it known when that needs to happen.

  Things were finally looking up. I had my first regular customer, some of the local businesses were stocking my dog treats for their customers to buy, and online sales had picked up, too. I was happy.

  Until Janice Fletcher returned.

  Fortunately, Jamie was able to catch me before I left the house. (She's always in earlier because she does all the baking in the morning.)

  "Hey, Jamie, what's up?" I asked as I pulled on my second tennis shoe, my phone cradled between my ear and shoulder.

  "You better leave Fancy at home today."

  "What? Why?" I glanced at Fancy who was already standing by the door staring at her leash and collar like they might run away and escape if she didn't keep a good eye on them.

  "Janice Fletcher is back. And she's not alone."

  "You're not even open yet. What's she doing?"

  "She's gathered a
little group of friends from what I can tell. And they all have signs." She sighed. "I think she's going to picket us."

  "Picket? What for?"

  "Not allowing her cat, I'd assume."

  "Oh that's ridiculous."

  My grandpa raised an eyebrow as he walked past me headed for the kitchen and his first cup of coffee. He's not much of a talker until he's had his morning caffeine.

  Jamie sighed again. "Ridiculous or not, I think it's best not to bring Fancy through this mess. All we need is for someone to crowd too close and she barks at them and then it's all over the news. Janice's nephew, Peter Nielsen, runs the local paper, remember? I'm sure he'll be here, too, before long."

  "That twerp is her nephew?" (I didn't like him much. I'd tried to get him to cover our grand opening and he'd made some nasty comment to me about how a two-bit café that'd be closed in less than a year wasn't news.)

  "Yep. So leave Fancy at home."

  "Okay. Will do." I hung up and looked to Fancy. She'd lain down in front of the door, staring at me. She may not be able to talk, but that girl can figure things out better than most people.

  "Fancy…"

  She didn't move, just stared at me with those big amber eyes of hers.

  "I'm going to have to leave you at home today. But you get to hang out with Grandpa. You'll like that won't you?"

  She harrumphed and laid her head on her paws.

  "I can't do anything about this, Fancy. So don't look at me that way. Now move. I need to get your bed from the van."

  She scrambled to her feet as I opened the door, but then tried to go outside with me when I opened it. I barely blocked her with my leg. "I'm sorry, Fancy. You have to stay behind."

  I snuck past her and closed the door firmly behind me, feeling like the most horrible human being on the planet. But if Jamie was right about what Janice Fletcher had planned, then I really did need to leave Fancy at home. For her sake. Plus, she loved my grandpa. She might be acting all hurt and disappointed now, but she'd probably forget all about me once I was gone. Or so I told myself.