The Truth About Cats & Dogs

by Lori Foster

  PENNY WATCHED HER UNCLE walk around the parking lot calling for Familiar. Peter didn’t seem exactly worried, but he acted as if the cat was up to something. But what? Surely all those crazy stories she’d heard about Familiar couldn’t be true. She’d been surprised when Peter had arrived with the black cat in tow, and then Peter had made a strange comment, something to the effect that the cat couldn’t be left alone. She knew Eleanor was in California researching some obscure Native American language, but that didn’t explain why the cat couldn’t have been left at a responsible kennel. Peter had just smiled and said something about Familiar being smarter than the average cat. Right.

  She was about to walk outside and ask her uncle about the cat when a black Volvo careened into the parking lot, tires squealing. A young mother with her two children ran into the clinic.

  “Please, can you help us? Our dog was hit by a car!” The two children were wailing and crying, and the mother was fighting back tears. “Please.”

  “Where is your dog?” Penny asked.

  “He’s in the back seat.”

  “Let’s get him.” Penny ran out the door and Peter met her at the car. Penny opened the back door and felt her pulse accelerate at the sight of the dog. He was breathing shallowly, blood leaking from his mouth onto the leather seat.

  “I’ll get him,” Peter said, picking up the little Jack Russell terrier and gently carrying him inside the clinic.

  “We’ll have a look at him,” Penny said as she followed Peter into an exam room and closed the door. She’d been trained for all types of animal emergencies, but she was certainly glad Peter was here. He had years of experience. It made her feel more secure as she stepped up to the table and began to assess the terrier’s condition.

  Thirty minutes later, Penny walked out to the waiting room where the mother and her children tensely waited.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Penny said, smiling. “He’s one lucky dog.”

  “His name is Roscoe,” the little boy said, wiping a tear from his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. “I left the gate to the backyard open and he got out. I don’t remember leaving it open, but I must have. It’s my fault he got hit.”

  Penny knelt down beside the boy. “It isn’t your fault, sweetie,” she said. “Roscoe made a bad choice when he ran into the street.”

  “I left the gate open,” the boy said again.

  “We can’t be perfect all the time,” Penny said softly, ruffling his brown hair. “You made a mistake and Roscoe made a mistake. We all make mistakes. And the important thing is that Roscoe is going to be just fine.”

  “Thank you,” the mother said. “I’ve been trying to make Jeffrey understand that accidents happen. He’s just a child that takes on way too much responsibility.”

  “I know that pattern,” Penny said, rising to her feet. “It’s too big a burden for a little boy.”

  The mother nodded.

  “Roscoe has a broken back leg and some internal bruising,” Penny said. “I’d like to keep him overnight, if that’s okay.”

  “We’ll be by tomorrow to check on him,” the mother said, gathering both children by the hand. “Thank you. It’s just a blessing you were open today.”

  Penny felt her uncle step up beside her and together they watched the family get in their car and pull away.

  “That hits home, doesn’t it?” Peter said, putting his hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I know you always felt responsible for your mother when she was so sick. You were just a kid.”

  Penny sighed. “Life isn’t fair.”

  “I had no idea what you were going through until Margaret passed away,” Peter said. His arms went around her and he held her tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. After Dad died, Mom and I were so close. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

  “Still, it’s a hard life for a little girl who should have been going to parties and tormenting the opposite sex.”

  Penny patted her uncle’s arm and stepped away from him. She welcomed his help and experience, but not his pity. “I have the rest of my life to torment men,” she said, forcing a bright smile.

  “Not today,” Peter said, nodding toward the parking lot. “Here comes another patient. Looks like you picked a great location.”

  MACK WALKED DOWN Wellington Street, his sharp gaze sweeping both sides of the road. He’d managed to get his panic under control and decided on a block-by-block search of the neighborhood. So far, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his daughter or the calico cat that had dumped a litter of kittens in his laundry room.

  Miranda had named the cat Gumbo, an appropriate name. Too bad the cat wouldn’t ever be tamed. She was feral, and it had been his concern for Miranda that had made him resist her pleas to tame the cat. He’d been afraid that if she got her hands on Gumbo, the feline would panic and claw and bite her. He’d offered to go to the pet store and buy her a cat, but Miranda had only wanted Gumbo. She’d wanted to save the cat. Now Mack realized how serious his daughter had been. This was just another in a long line of recent mistakes he’d made with her.

  The series of memories that flashed through his mind were painful. Miranda had gotten up every morning and taken a saucer of milk out to the cat. She’d waited and waited for the cat to come out, until it was time for school. When she’d come home in the afternoons and the milk was gone, Miranda had believed she was making progress. She’d set her heart on making the cat a pet, and now, too late, he realized he should have helped her.

  Now Gumbo was probably gone for good. After dropping her kittens, she’d fled. And the one thing his daughter didn’t need was another loss—especially after her mother had just abandoned her and disappeared.

  He’d tried to tell his daughter not to set her heart on the impossible. Belinda had taught him that bitter lesson, and he’d tried to protect Miranda from learning it, because he couldn’t stand to see Miranda disappointed. She’d been so brave after her mother had left. Now, she had to live the loss again with a dang cat. At least the cat hadn’t bitten Miranda. Mack had a vivid memory of his sister being bitten by a wild cat. She’d had to undergo the horribly painful shots to prevent rabies. He could still hear her screams.

  He’d finished scouring his neighborhood and had crossed into unfamiliar territory. He’d heard that a new neighborhood was coming in, but what was left of the old one was sad. This must be where Gumbo had come from. Someone had abandoned her, or she’d been part of a litter that went feral. Mack didn’t like the idea of Miranda in this neighborhood.

  A black cat flashed by the corner of a house, and Mack slowed. The cat was a mighty sleek-looking cat for this area, where even the children looked as if they didn’t get enough to eat.

  “Miranda!” he called. “Miranda!”

  The black cat peeked around a corner, then disappeared. Funny, it was almost as if the cat were assessing him. He shook off the feeling and continued walking, calling his daughter’s name.

  An hour later, Mack couldn’t tamp down the panic he felt. He touched the inhaler in his pocket. Miranda would need her asthma medicine soon. He had a terrible image of her, unconscious behind some old house. He shook it off and started jogging, his voice reflecting the urgency he felt.

  PENNY SIGHED and plopped down into the empty receptionist’s chair. “Lock the door,” she said to Peter, who took a seat on the visitor’s sofa. “I had no idea we’d be swamped.”

  “You’re going to need some staff, at least some technicians to assist you. You won’t be able to manage this alone. Good grief, you’ve had twenty cases already,” he said. “I can hang around until you interview some folks.”

  “Thanks.” He was a great uncle, even if he was a little overprotective. “Look,” she said, sitting up taller in the chair. “Here comes Miranda’s father again. And he doesn’t look happy.” The tall, broad-shouldered man was striding across the parking lot. If he weren’t so grim, with his brow furrowed and his generous mouth in a t
aut line, he’d be handsome, she thought.

  The door swung open with a thrust and Mack stepped into the office. “I hate to ask you again, but it seems you were the last people to see Miranda. I’ve been searching for her everywhere, and I can’t find her. Did she say anything about where she planned to go?”

  “I’m sorry,” Peter said. “She didn’t. She asked if we could take care of the kittens. She was going to help with a feeding, and then she suddenly ran away.”

  “The last we saw her, she was headed south,” Penny said, “as I told you. That was over four hours ago.” She saw the tension on Mack’s face increase.

  Mack nodded. “She cut through our yard, but I have no idea where she went from there. I’ve been all over this neighborhood, and even down into the area they call Birdville. I’m worried. She doesn’t have her asthma medicine with her.”

  “She’s asthmatic?” Penny asked, felling a tug of worry herself. Miranda’s father hadn’t made the best first impression, but he was very worried about his child. She could see that.

  “She has serious trouble with her breathing when she gets overexcited. And I have no doubt she’s terribly upset.”

  That explained a lot about his behavior. “Can we help you look?” Penny asked, surprising herself. She was dog tired and ready for a bath and the sofa, but Mack Sanders looked as if he were coming apart at the seams.

  “I’d appreciate any help.” Mack brushed his thick sandy hair off his forehead. “Miranda’s such a sweet child. She trusts everyone.” It was obvious to Penny that he fought to control his voice. “I never wanted her to be afraid of life. Maybe I should have put a little more caution into her.”

  Penny’s concern rippled into fear. An innocent child with open trust could get herself in serious trouble, especially in Birdville. “Had you two argued?” she asked gently. “Is it possible she ran away from home?”

  Mack’s eyebrows drew together. Instead of bristling at Penny’s question, he looked stricken. “I think I made a terrible mistake.”

  The note of bitterness in his voice warned Penny to tread carefully. She exchanged a glance with Peter.

  “While you were hunting for your daughter, did you happen to see a black cat?” Peter asked.

  Mack’s left eyebrow rose. “I sure did. Why?”

  “Let’s go to where you saw the cat,” Peter said. “My best guess is that where we find Familiar, we’ll also find your daughter.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  MACK FELT A STRANGE WAVE of gratitude as he watched Penny slip back out the half-shut door of an old shed. It had been a long time since anyone had volunteered to come to his aid. The new veterinarian and her uncle were helping him conduct a thorough search of his neighborhood. Two strangers had taken on the burden of his missing daughter. The thought of it humbled him.

  He’d walked a large area calling Miranda’s name, but now that he had help, he was looking under houses and checking in garages and sheds, doing the thorough search he hadn’t had time to do alone. At first, he’d thought Miranda was hiding because she was angry with him. Now though, he’d begun to let darker thoughts float through his mind—and those dismal images put fire under his feet.

  “Does Miranda have any friends in the neighborhood? She might have gone to a playmate’s house,” Penny said, wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

  He almost lifted his hand to brush her face, but thought better of it. Many years had passed since he’d felt the impulse to make such an intimate gesture with a woman. Penny Jameson, with her caring eyes, invited such thoughts. Instead, he followed through on her question.

  “I’ve called all of her friends from where we used to live, but there is one new friend. Good thinking.” He whipped out his cell phone. “Amy Bradshaw. Miranda’s had a tough time making new friends in this neighborhood, but she likes to go play with Amy.” He dialed the number to the Bradshaw house, feeling his hopes lift.

  Penny was a genius. There were times when he so needed a woman’s thinking or feeling. He worked hard at being a good father to Miranda, but he wasn’t a very good mother. This episode with the cat was showing him that.

  He heard a woman answer the phone. “Mrs. Bradshaw, this is Mack Sanders. Is Miranda there, by any chance?”

  He felt as if his heart had turned to stone as he listened. “Thanks, anyway. If you see her, would you call me?” He put the phone back in his pocket, trying hard to hide his sudden fear from Penny’s gentle scrutiny.

  “It was a good idea.” He forced a smile as he looked at Penny. Her soft brown eyes reflected his disappointment. He really wanted to know her better. There was something in her expression that tore down the defenses he’d built, the desire to remain solitary, his distrust of women. Once Miranda was found safe and sound, he was going to ask Penny on a date. He stored that thought away as he scanned the backyard of an abandoned house for some sign of his daughter.

  “The farther we get from the clinic, the worse the neighborhood looks,” Penny said. Mack followed her gaze to where her uncle was forcing open the door of an old abandoned house. “Would Miranda really have come here?” she asked.

  “If she thought the mother cat was here. Miranda’s really a good kid. She’s never done anything like this before. She just wanted to help that cat.” He bit his bottom lip. “She was obsessed with it. She didn’t want to move here, and as I said, she hasn’t made a lot of new friends. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that Miranda invested all of her time and energy into saving that cat.”

  “She has a tender heart,” Penny said. “And I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just got caught up in her imagination. Kids are like that, as best I remember.”

  Mack smiled at Penny’s efforts to comfort him. In all likelihood, she probably viewed him as a terrible father, yet she was working to keep his fears at bay. “Miranda could be unconscious somewhere.” Mack fought back thoughts of serious possibilities. “Someone could have taken her.”

  “Let’s assume that she’s simply gone farther away from home than she intended,” Penny said. “Did you check at your house? Maybe she called home.”

  Mack rubbed his forehead and then retrieved his cell phone. “About half an hour ago. Maybe she’s called since then.” He punched in his home number and checked his answering service. “Nothing,” he said as he put the phone away for the second time.

  Penny Jameson didn’t know Miranda, but as Mack watched her expression, he saw her eyebrows draw together in a frown. He could see the concentration on her face.

  “Does Miranda have a secret place? When I was a child, I had this one tree that I’d climb whenever I was mad at my parents or upset.” Penny pointed to a grove of woods. “Maybe there. That looks like a good spot for a secret fort.”

  Mack shook his head. “We moved to this neighborhood about four months ago, after Belinda…” He stopped talking, biting back the angry words that threatened. What was going on with him? He seldom felt anger at his ex-wife anymore, and he never talked about his private business with anyone.

  “Belinda is your wife?” Penny asked.

  He sighed. “My wife left us. One day she was cooking breakfast and the next day she was gone. It’s been hard on Miranda. We had a place on the north side of town, a less affluent neighborhood. This house came up for sale, and I thought it would be good for Miranda to move. She kept asking and wondering each day when she came home from school if her mother would be back. And the new house is closer to Glenda, her sitter. I thought she’d love the swimming pool and the big backyard.” He looked down. “I was pretty much wrong about everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” Penny said.

  Her touch on his arm was featherlight, but it carried a powerful sensation.

  “I’m not sorry Belinda’s gone. I’m just sorry that it hurt Miranda so much. Moving may not have been such a bright idea.” He felt the burden of all the things he hadn’t done in the past year. “I work too much. I’ve left Miranda with the sitter too much.”
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br />   “Over here!”

  They both started as they heard Peter’s call.

  “He’s found something,” Penny said as she began to run toward her uncle.

  PETER WALKED TOWARD THEM holding what looked like a book bag with the initials MLS. It was filled with cans of cat food. “Do you recognize this?” Peter asked.

  Penny knew the answer even before Mack spoke. She could tell by the pain that passed over his face.

  “It’s Miranda’s,” he said. “She told me yesterday she had lost it. Where did she get money to buy cat food? I give her an allowance, but not enough for that much food.” He looked stricken. “She must have saved her school lunch money. She’s been going without food.”

  “She was determined to catch that cat,” Penny said. “I would have loaned her a kindness trap. It’s a cage with a trap door. When the cat goes in for food, the door closes.”

  Mack took the book bag from Peter, his hands grasping it as if he could force it to tell him where his daughter had gone. “I just didn’t realize how much she wanted it.”

  “I don’t think she wanted the cat as much as she wanted to help her,” Penny said. She put a comforting hand on Mack’s arm, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath the sleeve of his shirt. He might have made mistakes with his daughter, but not out of a lack of caring. There was no doubt in her mind that he loved Miranda more than anything. “Mack, you did what you thought was right.”

  Mack ran his hand over the canvas bag as if he could summon his daughter like a genie. “She talked about Gumbo incessantly. I told her not to name the cat. I warned her that she’d probably disappear once she had her kittens.”