Dog-Gone Danger

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “But why not give her away or sell her?” I cuddle the pup, rocking her like a mother comforting a child. “If she’s a purebred, she’s worth lots of money.”

  “Her markings do look purebred.” Becca studies the puppy. “But if she wasn’t abandoned, how did she get way out here? She’s thin but otherwise in good shape, so she can’t have been on her own for long.”

  “Someone must be missing her,” I say. “When Mom gets home from work, I’ll check the latest lost-dog reports.” My mom is an animal control officer and often brings home missing-pet reports for us. I hug the trembling pup and never want to let her go. “I can take care of her until we find her owner.”

  “It’s more logical for me to keep her,” Leo says. “You already have two dogs and a kitten at your grandmother’s house. I only have fish and a kitten.”

  “But she may need medical care and bottle-feeding.” Becca pushes away her leopard-spotted bandanna as she leans in for a closer look. “She’s dehydrated and probably isn’t weaned. The best place for her is at the animal sanctuary where Mom and I can nurse her back to health.”

  Becca’s right, and I can tell from Leo’s expression that he knows it too. Reluctantly, I hold out the pug to Becca. But she shakes her head and takes Major’s leash. “I’ll walk Major, and you carry the pup. I know you want to.”

  “Thanks.” I smile and cradle the tiny pup in my arms as we retrace our steps to the main road. The puppy licks my skin and wiggles her curly tail. “Her buggy eyes shine like she’s thanking us for rescuing her.”

  “Buggy.” Becca snaps her fingers. “That’s what we’ll call her.”

  “That’s an inaccurate name. She’s a canine, not an insect.” Leo clicks his remote to a slow speed and rolls beside us, swerving around a pothole.

  “But her eyes bug out funny.” I pet the pup’s soft tawny head. “Buggy, do you like your name?”

  She licks me again, which seems like an overwhelming yes.

  By the time we turn onto my grandmother’s street, Buggy has fallen asleep in my arms. She’s tiny like a fuzzy toy, and I wonder again how she got into that dilapidated barn. There were no homes or cars around—although the tire tracks by the locked gate were proof that someone had been there recently.

  Was it the cruel person who dumped Buggy?

  I’m reminded of when we found our three kittens in a dumpster and worked together to rescue them but couldn’t take them to any of our homes. So we fixed up a hidden shack on Becca’s property and cared for the kittens until we could keep them. We also formed the CCSC to help animals and solve mysteries. Will we be able to solve the mystery of Buggy?

  When we turn the last corner, there’s Gran Nola’s dark-blue house. I check the driveway for Mom’s animal control truck. Drats. Only Gran Nola’s sporty convertible. Mom must be working late. I’ll have to wait to ask her about Buggy.

  “Gran Nola!” I call out as we enter the house. I hear music from the exercise room. My grandmother teaches yoga, although not usually this late in the afternoon.

  The music abruptly stops, and Gran Nola steps out into the hallway, wearing purple capri tights and a black tank top. Sweat gleams on her face as she grins at us. “I thought I heard voices. I was trying out some new poses and…What is that?”

  I proudly hold up the tiny puppy. “Buggy.”

  “Oooh, what an adorable pug.” Gran scoops up the puppy from my arms and kisses her face. “Who does she belong to?”

  “We have yet to determine that answer,” Leo says.

  “Major found her,” I add, explaining how Major wouldn’t play the search and rescue game but did a for-real search and rescue.

  “This darling pup was abandoned?” Gran Nola asks.

  “I think she was dumped,” Becca says ominously.

  “No!” my grandmother gasps. “That’s despicable! Whoever did that should be shackled and dumped in a pit of rabid alligators.”

  “Reptiles aren’t rabid,” Leo says, his mind as quick as Google. “Rabies is a mammalian disease.”

  “A puppy dumper deserves worse anyway,” Gran Nola says with a scowl as she turns toward me. “Kelsey, your mother will be very interested in this. She said there were disturbing things going on with animals in Sun Flower.”

  “What kind of things?” I take back the puppy from my grandmother and let Leo have a turn at holding her.

  “You’ll have to ask your mother.” Gran pulls off her sweatband and finger combs her hair. “I’m surprised she isn’t home yet.”

  I hear a whine from the backyard and watch Major scamper to the sliding-glass door. On the other side of the glass, my gorgeous dog, Handsome—a golden retriever and whippet mix—wags his tail eagerly.

  “Handsome wants to play with Major,” I say, smiling. When we first introduced the dogs to each other, I worried they wouldn’t get along since Handsome is much younger than Major. But they quickly bonded over their love for Frisbees.

  I cross the room and slide open the glass door. Handsome jumps excitedly, a Frisbee hanging from his mouth. Major races to join him in the backyard.

  When I turn around, Becca is at the kitchen sink, pouring water into a bowl for Buggy. “I hope she’s weaned.” Becca places the bowl on the floor. “Bottle-feeding isn’t hard, but it’s a pain.”

  I hold my breath, watching the pup lean into the water dish. Her claws click on the tile as she sniffs the water. She snorts and backs away from the dish.

  “She’s not drinking,” I say with a sigh.

  Becca kneels and nudges Buggy. “Go on, girl. Sip the water,” she croons, gently pushing Buggy’s muzzle into the water. The puppy sputters and scampers across the kitchen.

  But Becca doesn’t give up. Murmuring soothing words, she eases the pup back to the dish. Becca dips her finger in the water and puts it up to the pup’s mouth. Buggy sniffs, licks Becca’s finger, and dips her whiskery nose into the dish. She sloppily laps water, splashing the floor and our sneakers.

  “Coolness!” Becca beams.

  “If only Major did what we wanted this easily,” I say, glancing outside at the dogs playing tug-ofwar with a Frisbee.

  “It’s odd that Major wouldn’t search for you.” My grandmother puts her hands on her hips, staring into the backyard with a thoughtful look. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve seen his medals and newspaper clippings.”

  “We told him to search,” I say. “But he sat there like he didn’t understand.”

  “While I was cramped in a car trunk for nineteen minutes,” Leo complains.

  “But he rescued Buggy,” Becca points out, still kneeling beside the tiny dog on the floor. “Buggy wouldn’t have lasted long out there alone. Major saved her life.”

  “I just remembered something Greta told me that might explain why he ignored your commands.” My grandmother takes a dishrag off the counter and tosses it to Becca. “She said when Major went to work, he wore a tracking harness.”

  I glance into the backyard. “He’s wearing a blue collar.”

  “So maybe that’s why he didn’t search for you,” Gran Nola says. “When Major is at home, he’s an off duty family dog. If you want him to work, he needs to wear his harness.”

  “Where is it?” I ask as Becca wipes the water off the floor.

  “Good question.” Gran Nola grabs the damp dishcloth that Becca hands her. “I’ll ask Greta. I was planning on calling to check on her anyway.”

  “Thanks,” I say. Footsteps sound outside the front door. “Mom must be home!”

  I rush to the door, eager to tell her everything that happened today. But when I open the door, Mom staggers in, clutching her thigh. A dark-red stain is splattered on her uniform.

  Mom’s been shot.

  - Chapter 3 -

  Risky Business

  “Mom!” I rush forward and wrap my arms around her. “Are you okay?”

  She winces. “I’ll be fine once I shower and sleep.”

  “You’re clearly not fine. You’re going to the ho
spital right now,” my grandmother says forcefully. “I can’t believe you drove home instead of getting medical help. You must be in shock.”

  “I was shot…but not with a real gun.” Mom points down to her leg. “This isn’t blood. It’s paint. I was hit with a paintball, and it stings like crazy.”

  Gran Nola and I sandwich Mom between us and ease her over to the soft leather recliner.

  “How did it happen?” Gran Nola gently strokes Mom’s brown hair.

  My mother sucks in a deep breath. “It was supposed to be a routine call,” she explains, leaning back in the recliner. “We received a biting report. Frankly, the neighbor deserved it. He was throwing rocks at the dog. And the dog’s a toy poodle, so the bite barely broke the skin. But the dog’s owner didn’t have proof of a rabies vaccination, and the victim filed a complaint. So I had to take the poodle in for quarantine.”

  “Is that why the owner shot you?” Gran Nola guesses.

  My mother bites her lip. “The owner, Mike, didn’t give me any trouble. He knew he’d get the dog back once he found the vaccination documents. But as he handed the dog over, his daughter came running out of the house, sobbing hysterically. I thought she was holding a toy gun until a sharp pain blasted me.” Mom groans as she rubs her leg. “A bullet couldn’t have hurt much worse.”

  “Except you’d be in the hospital or dead!” Gran Nola’s voice rises with anger. “Katherine, your job is dangerous! Did you have that violent kid arrested?”

  “I couldn’t do that.” Mom shakes her head. “I felt terrible for taking the little girl’s dog. Besides, she’s only four.”

  Gran Nola scowls. “What was a four-year-old doing with a paintball gun?”

  “Apparently, the whole family plays paintball.” Mom winces and sinks further into the recliner. “I just want to rest for a few minutes, then take the longest, hottest shower of my life.”

  “Of course, honey.” Gran Nola’s tone immediately softens. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this. I’ll heat you up some peppermint tea.”

  As Gran Nola heads for the kitchen, Leo comes out carrying the puppy. He places her in my arms, then whispers, “Did you tell your mom about Buggy yet?”

  “No.” I tighten my grip on the wiggly puppy. “Not a good time.”

  Mom’s eyes are closed, and I start to tiptoe away from the recliner so I don’t disturb her. But Buggy has other ideas. She leaps out of my arms and plops on Mom’s lap.

  With a startled scream, my mother bolts up in the chair.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean for her to jump on you.”

  The tiny dog licks her arm, and Mom’s expression softens. “Whose pup is this?”

  “We don’t know,” I say. “We hoped you’d help us find out.” I quickly explain how Major led us to the deserted barn and came out carrying a mouthful of puppy.

  “We named her Buggy,” Becca adds with a sweet smile.

  Mom’s eyes sharpen as she studies the puppy. “She’s too young to be away from her mother. Did you talk to the neighbors where you found her?”

  “There weren’t any houses, just fields and the old barn,” I say. “I didn’t see a street sign, but it’s on a dirt road off Grove Street.”

  “I think I know the place,” Mom says with a thoughtful expression. “Is there a locked gate with a no-trespassing sign and a barn that’s falling down?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “And this pup was alone?”

  I nod. “Until Major rescued her.”

  Leo pats the pup on her head. “It’s a mystery how she got there.”

  “Mom, would you check for an ID chip with your magic wand?”

  “Electronic, not magic. She’s much too young for a chip, but it can’t hurt to check. You know where I keep it in my work truck.” Mom tosses me the keys to her truck. “Bring it to me, and I’ll scan her.”

  Mom is sipping herbal tea when I return with the scanner. It’s cream colored and about the size of a TV remote. Mom presses a button and waves the device over Buggy. A light flashes. “Negative,” Mom says. “No chip. But there may be a lost-pet report tomorrow. I’ll check in the morning.” She returns Buggy to me, then sinks back into the recliner with an exhausted sigh.

  I whisper to my friends. “Mom needs to rest. Want to hang out in my room?”

  “I can’t stay,” Leo says, taking his gyro-board controller from his pocket. “I have to go home for dinner.”

  “Me too.” Becca holds out her arms for the puppy, and I kiss Buggy’s soft head before handing her over. “I already texted Mom so she knows I’m bringing her home. Call me if your mother finds out anything.”

  “I will,” I promise, waving as my friends leave.

  After a quick dinner of leftover lasagna, I do my homework at the dining table so I don’t wake Mom. When I start to yawn, I hug my grandmother good night and tiptoe into the guest room. There’s a faint scent of Mom’s tangerine shampoo, and the room is dark except for silvery moonlight slanting through the curtains. Mom is already in the king-size bed we share, curled beneath the handmade quilt—a gift from one of Gran Nola’s yoga students.

  My eyes adjust quickly to the dark. I have great night vision, a useful trait for a spy. Still, I almost trip over something—a shoe?—as I go to my dresser, open the second drawer, and feel for my pajamas. I put them on and slip under the covers. As I do, Mom stirs.

  “Sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

  “Your leg hurting?”

  “That and other things.” Sighing, she pulls the quilt up to her chin. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Thinking about Dad?” I ask softly.

  “Always,” she admits. “I miss him.”

  There’s something cozy and safe about the darkness, blurring our roles of mother and daughter so it’s more like we’re friends sharing confidences at a sleepover. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Kelsey.”

  “If you miss Dad, why didn’t you stay with him?”

  “Things have been tense since we lost the cottage. I didn’t want to stay at the castle, but your father did.”

  Her bitter tone startles me, and I shift on my side to face her. “But Bragg Castle is amazing. Your suite is gorgeous with a huge TV and a jacuzzi. No cooking, cleaning, or doing laundry.”

  “I didn’t notice you offering to stay there,” she says wryly.

  “I would have if Mr. Bragg allowed pets.” I glance over at Honey curled in her kitty bed. “But you could have stayed and lived in luxury like a princess.”

  “Luxury is overrated.” Mom blows out a sigh. “And I need to relax after I get home from a hard day at work.”

  “Catching stray animals doesn’t seem that hard,” I say.

  “I do much more than that.” She laughs wryly. “There’s a reason I’m called an officer. While most of my calls are routine, like barking complaints and loose dogs, I deal with criminal activity too. Last month I worked with the sheriff to shut down a puppy mill and a dogfighting ring. It breaks my heart when animals are abused. But when I’m at the castle, I’m expected to smile and can’t talk to your father about things…well, some things we need to work out. And there’s zero privacy.” She sighs. “Once I came out of my shower wearing only a towel to find the housekeeper, Sergei, folding my underwear.”

  “Oh no! How embarrassing!”

  “For both of us. Poor man blushes now whenever he sees me.” Mom rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. “Your father thought it was funny. Being the chef for a famous man has gone to his head. I called him earlier today for advice on a difficult work situation, but he wouldn’t take me seriously.”

  “What situation?” I sit up in bed.

  “A call I went on yesterday bothered me. I didn’t find anything suspicious, but now there’s new information.” She pauses. “It’s probably nothing, but I’m going to check it out in the
morning.”

  Something in her tone makes me nervous, and I remember how scared I was when I thought she was bleeding. “Mom, don’t do anything risky.”

  “I won’t. If I find proof of a crime, I’ll report it to Sheriff Fischer and he’ll take over. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But I am worried,” I confess. “Not just about your job…about you and Dad. You seem mad at him. Why did you really leave the castle?”

  There’s a long pause. “Your father and I need some time apart…to figure things out. The constant moving and lack of stability has been hard on our relationship.”

  My heart plummets. “Are you getting a divorce?”

  “Of course not. We’re just taking a break. Your father and I will be fine.” She reaches across the blankets to squeeze my hand. “I miss him. So tomorrow morning I’m going to call him. We’ll work things out, and I may even move back into the castle.”

  “I’m glad.” I pause, wanting to be honest. “But I’m kind of sad too. I mean, it’s been nice with just the two of us talking like…well…friends. This doesn’t happen much.”

  “I’ll make sure it happens more often. I get busy sometimes, but I’m always here for you, sweetie, and I want to know what’s going on with you.” Mom playfully tugs on my hair. “I can’t believe your school year is almost over. Are there any seventh-grade parties or activities?”

  “Well…there is a dance. But I’m not going,” I add quickly.

  “Isn’t there a boy you like? Be bold and brave, and ask him to the dance.”

  “Leo asked me as a friend…not as a date.” I’m glad she can’t see my burning cheeks. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “I’m sure your sisters will loan you a pretty dress.”

  I press my lips together. Hand-me-down Kelsey. Never anything new, only secondhand castoffs from my sisters.

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’m shorter than Kiana and Kenya. It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m going to tell Leo I can’t go.”

  “What if I took you shopping?” Mom’s voice wraps around me like a warm hug. “Would you go if you had a fantastic new dress?”