by Dixie Cash
“Thirty-two isn’t ancient, Mom. If you’ll recall, when I decided to start LaBarkery, I had used up all of my unemployment and I wasn’t hitting a home run with job hunting. You know how many résumés I sent out. It must’ve been five hundred. I traveled to a hundred fruitless interviews. You know all of that. And you also know I had reached a point where I had to do something.”
“But you’re a college graduate, Sandi. The only one in our family. You could’ve found a job if you hadn’t been so particular.”
Everyone in Sandi’s blue-collar family stood in awe of her graduating from college, but at the same time, they felt resentment. “Wanting a job I liked was being particular? There were plenty of times I hated that job at that bank, Mom, but I believed it would take me somewhere. I worked hard and was a good employee, which got me nothing. I still work hard, but at least I’m doing something I love.”
The idea of gourmet pet food had come to her from out of nowhere while standing in the Walmart pet food aisle in front of the refrigerator shopping for fresh food for her cats, Lucy and Ethel. She had always loved cooking and creating in the kitchen, considered herself a good cook. Once, she had loved cooking for her man.
Lesson learned: Pets were more loyal than either of her men ever had been.
The second idea of serving highly nutritious pet food as hand-decorated treats had rushed at her as if it was meant to be. She had gone home and spent the next three days studying dog and cat nutrition. By the end of the next week, she had experimented and developed half a dozen recipes and figured out how to decorate them.
Since then, with no help or encouragement from her family, she had daily filled her display cases with fancy treats so artfully decorated they tempted even humans. Her customers’ pets ate healthier than most people.
“You know, Mom, I’m starting to add special healthy treats for other pets besides dogs and cats. And I’m in the process of copyrighting all of my recipes and trademarking the names. Eventually, I’m going to market them online.”
Her mother’s head shook again. “I don’t know, Sandi. I just can’t imagine people paying the kind of money you charge for fancy pet food. It’s so unnecessary.”
That was the crux of her mother’s misunderstanding. Growing up, Sandi’s brothers and sister, even Sandi herself, had always had dogs and cats around. While their parents had never abused or mistreated the various animals, they would have never spent the money for gourmet treats or homemade dog food for them.
“How can you say that? Healthy animal food is not unnecessary. It gives pets more energy and saves pet owners money on vet bills.”
“Well, I don’t want to argue,” her mother said righteously.
“Animals deserve good food the same as people do. How would you like to eat that crap they sell in grocery stores or some of the pet stores?”
“Sandi. I do eat that crap they sell in grocery stores. Every day. And you ate it, too, all of your life. You’re still eating it. So don’t act so high and mighty.”
“You know what I mean,” Sandi grumped. “Why can’t you be glad I came up with something that’s working?”
“I just know I’d never pay what you charge for dog food.
“Really? You bought that Starbucks drink, didn’t you? You could’ve brewed coffee at home, put it in a blender with ice and a little milk and added a little bit of caramel sauce and turned it into exactly what you’re drinking. It would have cost half the money you paid for it at Starbucks. Maybe less than a dollar.”
Her mother gave her a pursed mouth look and sucked up the last of her Caramel Frappachino. “It’s a special treat. I don’t do it every day.”
“Well, some people do. Whether you like it or not, pet owners like giving special treats to their animals. And they aren’t hesitant in spoiling them. They’re willing, even eager, to lay down cold hard cash or credit cards to pay for those treats and special food for their four-legged children. And the price seems to be no obstacle. Nor is a lack of money.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t understand it.”
“I do. Pets love you unconditionally. Stop and think about it, Mom. Did Morris ever steal your checkbook and overdraw your checking account? Has he ever called you in the middle of the night for bail money?”
“Now you’re being silly. Morris is your dad’s dog.”
“Silly or not, that’s exactly what Jason did. I remember it. You had to take money out of savings to cover those checks he wrote. And you and Dad had to borrow money to get Jimmy out of jail.”
Now, Sandi was on a roll. “And here’s another thought, Mom. If you have your female pets spayed, they don’t come home unmarried and pregnant, covered with tattoos and with more holes in their bodies than a sieve.”
Sandi might not have children, but her two older brothers and an older sister had done all of the above.
Her mother’s face flushed and her mouth flattened. “That’s a low blow, Sandi. Jason’s paid me back every dime he took from me. Your brother Jimmy ain’t even got a speeding ticket in more than a year, much less been arrested. And your sister? Jamie loves her baby. She ain’t got any more tattoos or body piercings since Kaylee was born. She’s moved in with this guy who’s got a steady job at the Jiffy-Stop.”
“Doing what?”
“He’s a cashier. And it sounds like they’re gonna get married.”
Sandi had nothing left to say that wasn’t insulting.
Her thoughts and opinions didn’t matter to her family anyway. She had little contact with her siblings. All three were years older than she. She never visited them or vice-versa. They didn’t even exchange birthday cards. Other than sharing the same parents, she had almost nothing in common with them. Considering the difference between her age and theirs, Sandi didn’t doubt she had been her parents’ Saturday night mistake.
“I’m not bad-mouthing my sister and brothers, Mom. I’m just trying to make a point. My life’s starting to look good again. I don’t want to ruin it working at a job I hate.”
“Well, just don’t get too comfortable, young lady. You know what your grandmother always says. A storm follows the calm.”
Crap. There was that annoying conflicting philosophy again. “I hope not. My galoshes are still damp from the last downpour.”
Chapter 3
Two months later...
The calendar might say September, but the daily temperatures were still hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. Even so, the holidays were just around the corner. Sandi had been studying confections of all kinds and experimenting with how she could turn some of the traditional-looking holiday dishes into healthy pet treats. For Halloween, she could do something with tiny pumpkin faces made of ground chicken, carrots and sweet potatoes, she decided.
She applied the final flourish to a pastel pink rose petal on the Petits Furs she had removed from the oven earlier in the day. The little bite-size cakes looked almost like the fancy petits fours seen in gourmet bakeries, but the similarity stopped with appearance. Her creations were made of premium lean beef, vegetables and nutritious supplements.
A cold nose pressed against her leg and she looked down. Waffle had brought his dish and placed it at her feet.
“Waffle, you can’t have another one. I’ve already given you two. This is my livelihood you’re gobbling up.”
The dog’s mouth stretched wide, baring his huge canine teeth in what Sandi was sure was a smile. He was such a con artist. She chuckled as she always did when he pulled that trick and said a silent prayer of thanks for the day the dog had come into her life as a stray.
“Waffle” she had named him, because of the beautiful honey-colored coat Prissy had discovered under all of the filth and matted hair he’d had when he had first shown up in the alley. He had gained weight and no longer had a sad look about him. And he had won her heart and soul. She had even gone so far as allowing him to stay in the shop with her, a privilege she hadn’t allowed any of her other pets.
Waffle was a great
PR dog. Everyone who came into the store fell in love with him. Even her pets at home — all six of her snobby cats; her two big dogs, Ricky and Fred; the hens, Sophie, Snow White and Dominique. Even Christian Grey, her bossy rooster, had taken to Waffle. The dog’s happy spirit was infectious. Sylvester had stopped hissing and spitting at him and trying to box him. Pablo had ceased growling and snarling when Waffle walked through the house. And Jake loved riding on Waffle’s back. Though Sandi had found him only two months ago, she couldn’t remember what her life was like with all of her pets when Waffle hadn’t been part of it.
The jingle of the bell attached to the door drew her attention. Prissy entered, her ample hips jiggling, her hands flapping about from her obvious agitation.
“What’s up with you today?” Sandi asked.
“Oh, Sandi, I’m so sad. Margaret’s babies are going to be leaving me. They’re six weeks old now. I’ve found homes for all of them except one. In a couple of weeks, it’ll be time to let them go.” Prissy turned away, hiding a sniffle with the back of her finger.
Margaret was a sweet little mama dog Prissy had groomed. The owner never returned for her. Prissy had intended to find her a home, but ended up keeping her. Soon after, Margaret had given birth to seven puppies.
“Aww. What are you going to do with the one that’s left?”
“A guy is coming in this afternoon to see my last little boy. Hopefully, giving away all of these puppies will bring me a string of new customers. Come up and see them. They are, hands down, the cutest things you’ve ever seen.”
Too busy to drop into the Pampered Pooch, Sandi had seen the puppies only a few times since their birth. “I’d love to see them before they go.” She looked at Waffle. “I’ll be right back. Watch the store for me.”
She flipped the sign on her front door to CLOSED and walked behind Prissy’s short stride. Being tall had its advantages, but even long legs were tested when trying to match the steps of a vertically-challenged person in a hurry.
When she entered the Pampered Pooch, she heard the puppy barks and yelps coming from the back room. “Ooh,” she squealed, “let me at those puppies!”
Prissy had put a soft circular bed for the new mom and her litter in the corner of the room. The puppies were nursing when Sandi approached. Sandi and Prissy oohed and aahed. As if Margaret knew her offspring were the objects of human admiration, she wagged her tail.
“Oh, Prissy, they are so precious. I’m glad you’ve already given them away. I don’t know if I could’ve resisted one. And God knows, I cannot handle another pet. The only thing missing from my life now is an ark. I even got a gerbil the other day.”
“Where’d you get a gerbil?”
“The kid down the street didn’t want it anymore. He came to my house and knocked at my door and asked me if I wanted it. His dad was going to hit it with a hammer.”
Prissy’s palms flew up, her fingers splayed. “Oh, no! Thank God you saved it.”
“I know, right? It’s cute. It’s black and white and the cats are fascinated by it. I think, or I should say I hope, it’s a male. I named him Hammerhead.”
Frowning, Prissy pressed a forefinger against her cheek. “Hm. Well, under the circumstances, that seems appropriate. I’ll bet Jake had plenty to say about him.”
“I’ll say. You know what he said when I first brought him home? He squawked and said ‘Lunch.’”
“Did that mean he wanted to eat him? I thought he ate vegetables.”
Sandi shrugged and laughed. “We didn’t discuss it. He might’ve been talking about the cats. His relationship with them is different from how he behaves with the dogs. He plays with the dogs, but he pesters the cats.”
Prissy laughed, too. “That Jake. He’s such a card.”
Just then, one of the puppies wriggled free. “Oh, look,” Sandi said. “That one is the same color as Waffle. What a cute pair they’d make.”
“Hell, Sandi, Waffle might be the father for all I know,” Prissy said. She placed a cupped hand to her mouth and whispered, “I don’t think Margaret was very selective.”
The sound of the shop’s front door opening interrupted the conversation. “I’ll be right back.” Prissy turned and left for her front room.
One of the puppies had finished nursing and ventured to the side of the dog bed. Sandi picked him up, giggling at the sight of his little pink tongue sticking out. “Just look at you. Aren’t you sweet?”
Prissy re-appeared. Sandi knew Prissy only casually, but reading her oh-my-God facial expression wasn’t hard. Close on her heels was the reason for the expression.
It was definitely a man worthy of the Oh-My- God response. He was tall and well built. Sandi was five-feet-eight herself, so men who exceeded six feet always caught her attention. He wore a starched button-down shirt, starched and ironed Wranglers that hugged his trim hips, cowboy boots and hat, the uniform of the area. But on him, it looked better than on most. He had striking strong features, but his crystal blue eyes set off by thick dark brows and lashes sealed the deal.
His mouth tipped into a lopsided grin and he touched the brim of his cowboy hat. “Ma’am.”
“Sandi,” Prissy gushed, “this is Nick ... er, uh, I’m sorry.” She giggled and batted her lashes. “I forgot your last name.”
“It’s Conway, ma’am.”
Oh, God. He had a devastating voice. It dripped with honey. A drawling Texas twang added to it.
“Did you, uh, come to see your baby?” Sandi asked, returning the little one in her arms to its mother’s side.
“No, ma’am. I came to see a dog.”
Oh, no. Was this who was going to take the last little boy? Sandi didn’t expect him to react to the puppies the way she had, but he could show some kind of emotion. What kind of person could look at a bed full of squirming puppies and not want to hold every one of them?
Sandi looked at Prissy, but she was still staring up at the stranger, awe-struck.
“Prissy said you’re interested in a male?” Sandi said to him.
“How many males did she have?” the man asked Prissy.
Prissy snapped her attention back to the present. “Males?...Oh, yes, males. Several. But there’s just the one that isn’t spoken for. I’ve found homes for all the others.”
Prissy squatted beside the bed and picked up the golden puppy Sandi had just put down. Shrill little puppy barks came from the others. Prissy allowed Margaret to sniff her baby then turned to Nick. “This is him. He looks like a brick of gold, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, I like his color. I had a dog sort of that color once.”
“Do you think your, uh, wife will like him? I mean, I wouldn’t want to give him to a home where everybody didn’t like him.”
“Don’t have a wife.”
I don’t wonder, Sandi thought.
“Oh, I see,” Prissy gushed.
“I can take him with me now,” he said.
“Oh, not yet. Like I said on the phone, it’ll be a couple more weeks before they’re ready to leave their mama.”
“I’ll be back in two weeks then.” He touched the brim of his hat again. “Nice to meet you.”
Prissy followed him to the entrance. Once he was through the doorway, she closed the door and fell back against it. “My God, that is a good-looking man. And he’s single. Where do you suppose he’s been hiding?”
“Humph. Where’s he hiding a personality is more what I was thinking,” Sandi said. “It’s a good thing he’s got looks.”
“I thought he was nice.”
“You should’ve seen yourself, Prissy. You wouldn’t have cared if he had robbed you. I don’t think you should let him have that puppy.”
Prissy frowned. “Why?”
“He didn’t strike me as having a lot of compassion for dogs. Or concern for their welfare.”
“He wants a ranch dog. He’s a cowboy. Cowboys like dogs.”
“Who knows what ranch dog means or what he might expect a dog to do? I don’t thi
nk that guy likes anything. I just think you shouldn’t let him have something as precious as that darling little puppy.”
Listen to yourself, Sandi told herself. Why was she setting up an argument for Prissy not to give away the last dog that she really needed to part with? The poor woman already had a house full of dogs and cats at home.
“Listen, I’ve got an idea,” Prissy said. “Tell that friend of yours about him. Ask her if she’s ever seen him.”
“Who?” Sandi asked.
“Your neighbor. The one who gets around.”
“Fiona? She doesn’t get around. She just—”
“Dates a lot,” Prissy filled in.
“Well, yes, she does date a lot. I’ll ask her, but I’m more concerned about the wrong person taking one of these precious babies. Didn’t you notice how cold he was?”
Prissy’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Cold? I thought he was hot.”
“He didn’t even hold him,” Sandi said. “What kind of pet owner is he going to be?”
“Not everybody brings their animals into their beds to sleep, Sandi. That doesn’t mean they’re not good owners. Being a cowboy, he’ll probably use the dog to help with cattle.”
“Use. That’s exactly my point. This little guy is a living creature with feelings and love to give. Being used sounds so, so...”
“Normal.” Prissy said. “Honey, we live in cattle country. Lots of dogs are used to help with livestock and, I might add, the dogs love it. I was raised on a ranch myself. Our dogs were important members of our family, but they were working dogs.”
“I guess so,” Sandi grumbled, “but he could have held him.”
“Men don’t warm to the babies the way we girls do. I’ve seen grown men quake in fear at the thought of holding a baby.”
“You’re right, Prissy. I should shut my mouth. But there was just something about him that didn’t sit well with me.”