The Truth About Cats & Dogs

by Lori Foster

  “Here, take these.” He handed her his coffee and the bag of croissants so he could pay for her order, then he touched her back and guided her toward the nearby bank of elevators.

  “We’re going to my—our room now,” Sam said, when the elevator emptied and they stepped inside. “Unless you’re planning to leave right away.”

  “I was just getting coffee to take with me,” she whispered, though they were alone in the elevator. “And I saw you—though I didn’t think it was you at first, not until I heard your voice. I couldn’t believe you were here after all and I didn’t know it.”

  “I thought you’d changed your mind.” He pushed the numbered button for his floor and contemplated putting their food and drinks on the floor so he could take her in his arms, but instead his mouth found hers again until the elevator stopped at his floor.

  “I did,” she said, following him down the hall. “Many times.”

  “I still have to work in D.C., though. Any chance you could start a dog shelter in Virginia?”

  “Sam, slow down.”

  He winced. “Sorry. I’ve spent two weeks trying to figure out how we could make this work—or at least give it a chance.”

  “I meant slow down because I can’t walk that fast.” She laughed, and Sam didn’t realize until then how much he’d missed that sound. He stopped in front of the door to his room and turned to her.

  “Come on, Jess. Give me some hope.”

  “I’m not sure how we’ll do it,” she admitted. “But I do know that I want you in my life.”

  He let out his breath. “So I was right about love at first sight?”

  “Not exactly. I think it started when you tried to get Darcy off the bed and kissed me.”

  “I was pretty amazed myself.” He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. “You know, we have to stop meeting in public places for coffee.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” She set the coffee cup and the bag on the glass-topped table just inside the door.

  Sam led her into the bedroom where he intended to show her how much he loved her. “I think I do, yes. And believe it or not, there are no dogs here. I can kiss you without being barked at.”

  “Speaking of dogs,” she said, looping her arms around his neck, “I’m keeping Samantha.”

  “Wait till I tell Darcy,” Sam added, pulling her closer against him. Where she belonged.

  FAMILIAR PURSUIT

  Caroline Burnes

  For Poe,

  a true inspiration.

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve always been an animal lover—I love the normal ones, and have even loved a few unusual animals such as an opossum, an eagle (briefly) and a snake. But most of my pets have been cats and dogs, with a few horses thrown in for good measure.

  Domestic animals, if they aren’t loved, often have tragic lives. When Kristine Rolofson called and asked if I would contribute a story to this anthology, with the idea that the proceeds would go to an animal rescue organization, I was delighted to do so.

  My own black cat, E. A. Poe, is a constant source of story inspiration, and it is a lot of fun to try to think like a cat. I have to confess that Poe helps me out a good bit.

  For my animal charity I chose Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. This is a compound in Kanab, Utah, that takes in all living creatures. Homes are found for those that can be adopted, but other animals, the sick or old ones, have a place to live out their lives. You can reach them at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, 5001 Angel Canyon Road, Kanab, UT 84741 (www.bestfriends.org).

  I urge you all to spay and neuter your pets to help cut down on unwanted animals, and to offer a home to the homeless. For the record, I practice what I preach—six cats, six dogs and six horses, most all of them rescued.

  Best,

  Caroline

  CHAPTER ONE

  RIBBON CUTTINGS AREN’T normally my thing, but at least I’ve got a good view. Thank goodness this spur-of-the-moment event is occurring in the spring. Mobile, Alabama, can be sweltering during the summer. I remember my last visit here, when I helped solve a kidnapping. I’m not on a case now, though, just a bit of family business. My humanoid, Peter Curry, DVM, has strung some old Christmas ribbon across the door and he’s given his niece a pair of surgical scissors to cut it. This is her first vet clinic, and she is blushing with pleasure. Dr. Penny Jameson has healing hands and I don’t think I’ve ever seen hair that shade of golden brown. So long and shiny. Lordy, lordy, I’m tempted to buy some kennel time in this new clinic.

  There goes the ribbon, snipped in two, and the clinic is officially open. Whoever thought that I’d end up in Mobile, Alabama, again. Beautiful trees, nice friendly people, and the most magnificent spring I’ve seen since my last visit to the Port City. The county has really developed. Peter’s niece found this old strip mall to use for her clinic. Renovation is the ticket, not further development. When I run for office, that’s going to be my motto—no new asphalt. I could run on the Tree Hugger ticket.

  Dr. Jameson has done a great job of taking care of the trees, and the ferns, flowers and grass—not to mention the four-legged critters under her care. Like her uncle Peter, she has a way with all living things. Tender Loving Care is the right name for this place. Another good name might be Easy on the Eyes. Penny Jameson is the best-looking veterinarian I’ve ever seen. All that hair, those dark brown eyes, and a figure to die for, even if she is only five feet tall.

  I think I feel a serious illness building, one that will require loads of calories and lots of stroking and maybe even a little cream. Ah. But what’s this? Here comes a short, female humanoid carrying a cardboard box. And she’s crying. Uh-oh, looks like Penny has her first client and it doesn’t look like a happy case.

  From the cries coming from that box, I think she has a litter of young felines. I’ll just stroll over and take a look. Oh, they are so cute. Why is the little girl crying? I suppose I’ll soon find out.

  PENNY JAMESON REMOVED the cardboard box from the young girl’s arms. “What’s wrong?” she asked, gazing at the five squirming kittens. She saw that the little girl with braids had been crying.

  “My dad won’t let me keep them,” the girl said. “He says they’re feral. He thinks I’m going to get bitten and get rabies. The mother cat only scratched me because she was frightened. Now she’s run away and left her babies.” She brushed a tear away and worked to hold back her emotions. For a moment her face gained some composure, and then she started sobbing. “They shouldn’t have to die just because I scared their mother away.”

  Penny looked over the box at her uncle, Peter Curry. He shook his head.

  “How old are the kittens?” he asked the little girl, kneeling so that he was on her level.

  “I found them this morning. In the laundry room. I waited until now, hoping the mother cat would come back. But she didn’t.” Her breath shuddered as she fought for control. “Dad says the cats are dangerous. He spent a long time explaining to me how they have diseases. But these don’t. They’re just babies. Can you help them?”

  Peter lifted the young girl’s chin so he could look into her eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Miranda.”

  “And you live around here?” he continued.

  “Yeah. Not too far away.” She looked at Penny. “You’re a veterinarian. Will you help them?”

  Penny felt her own eyes tearing over. The kittens didn’t look much over a day old. Even if they could survive, they’d require feeding every two hours, stimulation—care she simply didn’t have the staff to give. In fact, she had no staff at all except a part-time receptionist who wasn’t due to start until Monday, and her uncle, who’d offered to help out for a few days until she got on her feet. She’d just opened the door to the clinic not fifteen minutes before.

  Sighing, she watched the big black cat, Familiar, walk over to the box and peer in. The tip of his tail twitched. Peter had brought the cat with him from Washington, D.C., with a ton of stories abou
t Familiar and his escapades solving mysteries all over the world. Penny didn’t believe everything her uncle said. Sometimes he enjoyed pulling her leg.

  “Peter?” She looked at her uncle. “What do you think?”

  “Where’re your parents?” Peter asked Miranda.

  Penny saw the distress in the young girl’s face.

  New tears welled up. “My mother’s gone. It’s only me and my dad.” Her expression dared anyone to comment on her life.

  Feeling a constriction in her chest, Penny put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. That explained her uneven braids and un-ironed clothes. “Where’s your father?” she asked gently.

  “He’s probably looking for me,” she said, suddenly timid. She cast a worried look out the door. “He doesn’t know about the kittens.”

  Peter stepped forward and picked up the box. He gave his niece a knowing look. “Penny, why don’t you have a chat with Miranda’s dad? I’ll give the kittens their first feeding. Miranda, you can help if you’d like.”

  “You’ll save them?” the little girl asked, her face suddenly filled with hope. “Thank you. I knew you’d help them. I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up so I can help animals. Look!” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “I’ve named every one of them. And I looked up on the computer how to take care of kittens. I can help.”

  Penny bit her bottom lip. Peter was no tougher than she was. He’d caved at the sight of the helpless kittens, so that meant he’d stay long enough to get them to the point where they could eat on their own. She let out a sigh of relief as she hurried out the door to talk with Miranda’s father. Perhaps he’d be willing to bring his daughter by for several of the feedings so she could help out. And maybe if the cats were tamed…

  Just as Penny started out to the parking lot, the little girl tore by her. Miranda’s small feet flew over the asphalt and she disappeared between two huge azalea bushes in the yard next door to the clinic. Penny surveyed the parking lot. She’d assumed Miranda’s father was waiting outside for her, but no one was parked. Miranda had lied, and then she’d vanished.

  Suckered once again, Penny thought as she headed back into the clinic to help Peter with the kittens.

  MACK SANDERS took the steps two at a time. He burst through the door of the TLC veterinarian clinic and into the empty waiting room. Just perfect. The clinic was totally empty. He’d felt certain Miranda had come over here. She’d been talking about the new vet clinic on the corner and how much she wanted to work there. She was only nine, but she thought she was old enough for a job. He’d tried to explain to her that even though she was advanced in school, there were laws about child labor. Now, though, he was worried. He’d found a note she’d left, saying she’d gone “to take care of something important.”

  “Hey! Is anybody here?” he called out in the empty clinic.

  A young woman in a white clinic coat stepped out of a back room. His gaze swept over her lovely face, her gentle brown eyes and her slender figure. He took it all in, but what he focused on was the concerned expression on her face. And the name tag on her white coat—Penny Jameson, DVM.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m looking for a little girl. About four feet tall. Her name is Miranda Sanders. I thought she might have stopped by here—to ask for a job.” He felt the scrutiny of the young woman rake over him. He was making a bad impression, but he didn’t care. “I’m her father, and she’s disappeared. I’m a little worried.”

  “There was a young girl named Miranda here. She didn’t leave her last name, but she did leave a box of kittens. They’re too young to be without their mother.” Penny’s tone held disapproval. “She was very upset.”

  “So the cat had kittens.” He shook his head. “And now she’s disappeared. I was afraid this would happen. Now Miranda will have her heart broken again.”

  “She said the kittens were feral. That’s an impressive word for a little girl to know.”

  “She’s been trying to trap the mother cat, even though I told her it was useless. A wild animal can’t be tamed. I figured that cat would dump her kittens and take off, but Miranda was determined to save them. She thinks she’s a combination of that crocodile hunter guy and Harriet the girl spy. Do you know where Miranda went?”

  “She took off through the yard next door,” Penny said. “Do you think she could come by and help with the feedings?”

  “Sure. Miranda would love that. She wants to be a vet. Did she say where she was going?” He leaned on the counter. Penny Jameson was an easy sight to look at. He could see the intelligence shining in her eyes. For the first time in a long time he felt interested in a woman.

  Penny shook her head. “No. She was upset about the kittens.”

  “How upset?” He could feel his face tightening. “Miranda doesn’t need to be upset.”

  “She’d been crying,” Penny said. Her face showed surprise.

  “I have to find her.” Panic made Mack speak sharply. He realized Penny thought he was acting like a lunatic. “She didn’t say anything?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  Mack turned abruptly and headed out the door. At any other time, he would have liked to stay and chat with his pretty new neighbor, but he had to find Miranda. Emotional situations were the worst thing for his daughter, and he could easily imagine how torn apart she was. She’d been watching for days for the kittens, and now she had them and no mother cat. He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to make his daughter see that trying to tame a feral cat would only bring heartache, if not painful medical treatment. Feral cats, when cornered, were ferocious fighters. As he’d expected, the cat had dumped her kittens and moved on to greener pastures. His daughter was left with a broken heart.

  He jogged across the parking lot and into his own backyard with the terrible feeling that he’d made a big mistake. He should have helped Miranda catch the cat. Now he had to find her, before it was too late.

  “HE’S A VERY STRANGE MAN,” Penny said as she picked up a tiny bottle and began the process of teaching the yellow kitten to suck.

  “That was the father?” Peter asked.

  “Yes. He seemed very concerned about his daughter. He has the idea that a feral cat can’t be tamed. He thinks the mother cat has left her babies—but cats normally don’t abandon a litter if the kittens are healthy, and these are good-looking babies.”

  “Did he have any idea what might have happened to the mother cat?”

  “No. But only injury or fear would have made her leave her babies. How awful for her.” Penny smiled as she felt the kitten latch on to the rubber nipple. It began to suck with great force.

  “Any chance he’ll take the kittens when they’re old enough?” Peter asked.

  “I doubt it. People have strange ideas about strays. Even if she is a stray, people should step up to the plate and help a little. He could have caught her and had her spayed. Then there wouldn’t have been kittens. But no, that’s just too much trouble and responsibility for most people.”

  She could see that her uncle was smiling at her. Not unkindly, but with tolerance. “It isn’t something to smile about,” she said. “If every single family would spay one stray animal, there wouldn’t be the overpopulation problem we have today.”

  “You can come down off the soapbox anytime now,” Peter said. He put his hand on her shoulder before he reached for another kitten to feed. “I know where you’re coming from, Penny, but getting yourself worked into a lather won’t do any good.”

  “I’m stuck with these kittens, aren’t I.”

  His smile widened. “I’m afraid so. They’re awfully cute. Look at this little black-and-white one’s tail. It’s all crimped up.”

  “Kinky,” Penny said.

  “Don’t name them,” Peter warned. “You’ll never be able to give them away. Besides, Miranda has named them all.” He got the note out of the box. “I believe that one’s Sylvester.”

  Penny picked up the little black-and-w
hite female. The kitten yowled so loudly that Penny put a bottle in her mouth. It latched on instantly. “This one’s going to have a strong personality, and I override Miranda. Her name is Kinky,” she said.

  “Heaven help us,” Peter said, grinning. “This clinic can’t stand another female with a strong personality. I see only trouble in the future. By the way, where is Familiar?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HUMANOIDS LACK THE ACUTE SENSE of smell that we felines are blessed with, so I’ve taken it upon myself to track down little Miranda. This isn’t exactly a mystery that requires my indubitable skills as a private investigator, unless someone would want to explain how a grown man could traumatize his daughter by failing to notice a passel of helpless kittens. What lessons is that man teaching his daughter? Jeez, just when I begin to think that evolution is taking hold in the humanoid species, I discover something like this.

  There are a few evolved members of the human species, like Peter and Eleanor, the two who saved me from extermination in an experiment lab. I had that blasted microchip implanted in my hide and those villains were determined to kill me and anyone who tried to help me. Thank goodness Eleanor had a tender heart and picked me up and took me to Peter. And that began my career as a feline detective who specializes in matchmaking, but only for sensitive and kind humans.

  Penny is a fine example of a sensitive humanoid. But sometimes, I think the human genes aren’t capable of true development. Humanoids like to believe that they’re the only species with feelings and needs.

  Hmm, a little less philosophizing and a little more detecting are in order. I’ve picked up Miranda’s trail, and it doesn’t look good. The clinic is in a very upscale neighborhood, but a mile away, things get a little dicey. Miranda is headed into what appears to be a really rough area. I saw the signs along the road that say this is going to be another exclusive subdivision, Stone Hedge. Some big developer has bought up all these old places, but for right now, it’s a haven of decline. I spy an old sofa on the side of the road, abandoned cars, houses with rotted porches and idle men sitting around in the front yard. Uh-oh, if Miranda has followed the mother cat into this neighborhood, they’re both in trouble.