A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

by Aleksa Baxter

  Also by Aleksa Baxter

  Nosy Newfie Cozy Mysteries

  A Dead Man and Doggie Delights

  A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

  A Buried Body and Barkery Bites

  A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

  Aleksa Baxter

  Contents

  A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

  About the Author

  Copyright

  A Crazy Cat Lady and Canine Crunchies

  Chapter One

  I was peacefully sleeping, snuggled under my comforter, all nice and warm when I heard the small little cry from the end of the bed. It was a tiny little sound, not the loud bark my Newfoundland, Miss Fancypants—Fancy for short—could've made. I mean, when you're a hundred and forty pounds you can make an awful lot of noise if you want to.

  But Fancy's not like that. Our time living in an apartment when she was little had two main effects. First, she loved to wake up at the unholy hour of five-thirty every morning, rain or shine, no matter the day of the week. And, second, she was quiet but insistent.

  I knew from experience that she'd make that tiny little whining sound every few seconds until I dragged myself out of bed and fed her. So even though it was my day off, it was time to get up.

  I crawled out of bed and sat on the floor next to her giant dog bed. She nestled her nose against my foot and rolled on her back for a good belly rub before violently sneezing and jumping to her feet.

  Time for food. (Believe it or not, that was our morning routine, sneeze and all. Not sure what it was about my foot or rolling over onto her back, but nine mornings out of ten she'd sneeze and jump to her feet within a minute of my sitting down next to her.)

  I grumbled as I followed her down the hall to the kitchen. I was only thirty-six years old but after a full week of working at the barkery I felt like a little old lady. I was not used to being on my feet that much. You'd be surprised how much your body can ache after an entire day of cooking food. Standing does in fact take a lot of effort.

  I'd moved to Creek, Colorado just a few weeks before to take care of my grandpa—who it turned out didn't need my help—and to open a business with my best friend Jamie. I'd known Jamie since I was little and I'd spend a month each summer with my grandparents, but she and I hadn't become best friends until we went to CU together. We bonded over a shared practicality and appreciation for people who get things done.

  It had taken over a decade but we'd both finally grown tired of the corporate grind in a big city and decided to move "home" to start our own business: The Baker Valley Barkery and Café. (And no, that is not a typo. It's part bakery for dogs. Get it? Barkery? The café side serves the needs of humans. That's Jamie's side. The barkery side is for the dogs. That's my little brain child.)

  And at that point, well…

  Jamie makes the best cinnamon rolls in the world, so the café was doing amazing. The barkery…not so much. I was slowly building a group of steady customers like Abe and Evan at the Creek Inn, but it was slow going. If it wasn't for online sales it would have been very sad indeed.

  But how many businesses are a success from day one, right? Not many. Or at least that's what I kept telling myself.

  All I could do was show up each day, give it my all, and hope that things slowly trended upward.

  In the meantime I finally got to work somewhere I could bring Fancy. But not that morning. It was my day off. Which meant, feed Fancy, take her for a long walk before it got too hot, and then cuddle up on the couch with a good book. My idea of a perfect day.

  Of course, Fancy likes to keep me on my toes, so that's not exactly what happened.

  As we set out for our morning walk, I took a deep breath of the clean mountain air. It was early summer and the sun was already up above the mountains to the east. The sky was completely clear of clouds and a gorgeous shade of blue that made me smile. There was a slight chill to the air—it was still the mountains after all—but nothing a light wind breaker couldn't handle. I'd tied my long blonde hair into a jaunty ponytail that swished back and forth with each step.

  Creek was small—it had about forty houses in the town proper and maybe another couple dozen scatted through the mountains to either side—but it was mighty, too. It was the county seat and also housed the main jail, so there were a couple new buildings at the center of town in addition to the ultra-modern library at the edge of town. (A sad disappointment for me. I'd preferred when the library was in a cramped space on the third floor of the courthouse with books piled from floor to ceiling.)

  We were surrounded by mountains on all sides, but not the huge towering kind you might imagine. These ones stretched just a few thousand feet above us. Easily hikeable for those who could handle the altitude.

  At the end of town was a mile-or-so-wide gap where the highway led into the rest of the Baker Valley with a stream and train tracks running alongside.

  I could hear a freight train passing by as we left the house, but couldn't see it from where we were. Up on the mountainside behind my grandpa's house was a large slab of rock that I'd sat on when I was a little girl, watching the trains that passed through. It didn't matter that I'd never lived in Creek full-time, this little sleepy Colorado town was where my heart had always lived.

  Fancy and I walked a loop around the entire town, swinging down by the baseball park where she decided to take a bit of a breather and laid down in the grass, rolling on her back with contented grunts while I looked on in bemused annoyance. That early in the morning it was just us. Creek was never what I'd call a busy place, but before the courthouse opened it was practically dead.

  That's okay. I kind of enjoyed the peace after living in DC where there was always someone watching us no matter the hour.

  We were headed back home—just in sight of Lucas Dean's house (the jerk)—when Fancy stopped in her tracks.

  "Come on, Fancy. We're almost there." I tried to pull her forward, but she jumped backward instead.

  Now, I am not a small woman—about five-eight, one-sixty—but when a dog the size of Fancy decides she doesn't want to go somewhere, there's not much to be done about it. And when she decides to start jumping backward a foot at a time, well…I at least am hard pressed to stay on my feet. Not to mention the danger that she'd jump right out of her collar, something she was very much trying to do.

  (That happened to us once next to a very busy street and scared the living daylights out of me.)

  As soon as Fancy jumped backwards the second time, I followed her and crouched down.

  "What's wrong, girl? You okay?"

  She was shaking like a leaf, her whole body trembling as she stared in the direction of Lucas Dean's house. Not that I thought he was the cause for her distress. I didn't like him, but he wasn't the type to send my dog into fits of terror.

  "It's okay. You're fine," I soothed, speaking in that calming sing-song voice that's universally effective with kids and dogs. She burrowed her nose into my shoulder and I leaned my face against the top of her head, petting her back as I continued to calm her.

  Eventually she relaxed and the trembles disappeared.

  "See? It's okay. Come on now. Let's go home." I stood and tried to lead her that last crucial block towards home, but she was not having it. As soon as I started in that direction she stiffened her legs and pulled backward, all the hair bunching up around her face as her eyes bulged.

  She'd go back the way we'd come, no problem. But try to move forward? Nope. Not happening.

  I figured I had two choices at that point. First, I could sit on the side of the road—there wasn't a sidewalk anywhere around—and wait for her to settle down enough to move f
orward. Past experience told me that would take anywhere from five minutes to thirty. And that was only going to work if the cause of her distress wasn't a bear or mountain lion that decided to hang around for a while.

  My second option was to try to lead her around the block and come at my grandpa's house from the other side.

  (Problem with my grandpa's place is that it's at the edge of town and backed up against a mountain. So there were only two ways to get there that didn't involve climbing said mountain. One was the road we were on and the other was the road that dead-ended into that road. To get to that other road was going to require walking around a very long block.)

  Since I'm not one for sitting around and hoping things will work out, I chose the second option.

  Fancy was great. She walked along in front of me, doing her little Newfie sashay, happy as could be as we turned towards the highway and then walked along it. She was even great as we turned up that other road. But then she froze again.

  We were within sight of my grandpa's place. It was right there. Half a block away. I thought we were gonna make it, but then she jumped backward again and sat on her butt, refusing to go one step farther.

  "Come on, Fancy. Please." I held out a fistful of treats to lure her forward, but she was so scared she wouldn't even eat one. (Which for Fancy was a big, big deal. Food is Fancy's lifeblood. I remember after she was spayed the vet said she might not want to eat for a day or so, but that girl was all about her dinner that night. To the point that I was worried I might be feeding her too much so close to her surgery. She was fine, though.)

  "What is wrong?" I asked, exasperated.

  Of course, she couldn't tell me. She's a dog. But that doesn't keep me from making up what I think she's thinking. And from what I could tell, she was scared of something around the vicinity of my grandpa's house. Something that hadn't been there before. Which probably meant a mountain lion? Or a bear? Maybe even a coyote, although I wasn't sure they lived as high as seven thousand feet. Something was scaring her. And it was something that hadn't been there when we left the house.

  I sat down cross-legged on the ground and let her sit on my lap. (No, she didn't fit. But you try telling her that when she was as upset as she was.)

  I'd pretty much resigned myself to just waiting her out when a cop car turned up the street.

  I buried my face in her fur. "Fancy, I swear…If that's Matt Barnes and I'm forced to talk to him because you pulled this little stunt…"

  I'd done a very good job of avoiding Officer Matthew Barnes, a/k/a Officer Handsome Distraction, since he'd tried to arrest my grandpa for murder. (He hadn't wanted to. He liked my grandpa, but the evidence was pretty incriminating.) It wasn't that I disliked him. Or that I found him unappealing. He was actually mighty fine looking, especially in a cop's uniform—the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome and with blue eyes to boot.

  It was just that I had better things to do with my time than pine after some hot guy. I was starting a new business. And taking care of Fancy. And my grandpa. And I'd just moved there. Last thing I needed was to get all caught up with someone.

  Better to avoid him than to let myself get distracted at such a crucial time in my life.

  (Of course, both Jamie and my grandpa would point out that I always think it's a crucial time to avoid distraction. Whatever. I have plans, so sue me.)

  Chapter Two

  The car pulled up next to us and the driver rolled the window down. Sure enough. It was Matt.

  "Taking a little break?" He grinned down at us.

  Fancy leapt to her feet, wagging her tail in giddy excitement at the sound of his voice. She's such a traitor. I swear, she loves every man more than she loves me, although Matt is a particular favorite. Her tail slapped me in the face a few times before I managed to stand up myself.

  I walked over to the car and before I could stop her, Fancy had jumped up and shoved her head through the window and licked his face. Rather than recoil in disgust like most people would, he just laughed and rubbed at her ears until she was groaning in pleasure.

  "How's my girl?" he asked, kissing her on the nose.

  "If something ever happens to me, at least I know she'll have a good home," I muttered.

  He laughed. "Not me. Your grandpa would never let her go."

  It was probably true. My grandpa tried to play it cool when it came to Fancy, but it was pretty clear he adored her as much as she adored him.

  "Good point."

  "So? You guys were just taking a break on the side of the road?"

  (It wasn't unheard of for me to do that. When we still lived in an apartment and Fancy was a puppy she'd want to stay outside forever and so I'd sit on the sidewalk while she sat on the grass and watched the world go by. I'm sure people thought I was nuts, especially in Crystal City. And especially when I threw leaves for her to catch. That's okay. I kind of am.)

  I told him about my failed attempts to lead Fancy home. "I'm kind of outta options at this point. So I figured we'd sit here until she calmed down enough to make it the last little bit."

  "That might take a while depending on what's spooking her."

  "I know. But what other choice do I have?"

  "You could let me give you a ride."

  I shoved my immediate thought about that little comment aside and nodded. "That could work."

  And it did. At first. Fancy jumped into the back of the car without any hesitation whatsoever. (It was weird back there. You'd think they'd have upholstered seats, but they don't. It's this strange hard plastic. I guess that makes it easier to clean up whatever fluids people might bring with them. I know. Ew. But when people are drunk or in fights, I'm sure they're not exactly clean by the time the cops show up.)

  I sat next to her, but she still slid around a bit as we drove to my grandpa's house. At least it wasn't far; just half a block. Where we had the real problem was when it came time to get out of the car.

  Fancy was not having it. And she made her opinion known with a lot of loud barking at both of us. Not her angry bark. This was her "why would you do this horrible thing to me?" bark that's loud and whiny all at the same time.

  "Fancy! Matt needs to get to work. Get out of that car right now."

  She, of course, ignored me. That's the problem with governing through bribery. When your dog is too upset to be bribed, it all falls apart.

  Finally, Matt just grabbed her by the collar and dragged her out of the car. With that crazy plastic all over the place she scrambled to resist him, but couldn't. He didn't hurt her, but it surprised me nonetheless. I would've never even considered doing that.

  As soon as Fancy's feet touched the ground and she realized she no longer had access to the safety of the car, she ducked her head down, hunched her shoulders, and raced for the front door. I chased after her, kind of glad for the excuse to get away from Officer Handsome.

  "Thank you," I shouted back at him as I caught up with Fancy at the front door.

  "You're welcome. I'd say you owe me a dinner for that one."

  I pretended not to hear him. Matt is a horrible cook, at least from what he's said, but the last thing I needed was for him to come over for dinner.

  My grandpa stepped outside as I let Fancy in. He was wearing his normal outfit of a short-sleeved plaid shirt over a plain white t-shirt and faded Levi's. For a man of eighty-two he looks at least a decade younger if not more, probably thanks to the fact that his hair is just a faded brown instead of white or gray. "You say something about dinner, Matt?"

  I ducked inside as he walked towards Matt's car, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. I wondered where Fancy had gone to. She'd disappeared around the corner as soon as I set her free, but I didn't know where she'd gone from there.

  Finally, I found her. She was curled up in the far corner of my bedroom—a place she never goes during the day—her big amber eyes staring up at me.

  I sat down next to her, careful not to sit too close because then she'd just run away. "It's oka
y, kiddo. You're safe now." I pet her soft black head and gave her a little kiss between the eyes. She stared up at me, her eyes full of love and trust.

  I sighed. "You know I love you, but you did not do me any favors just now."

  Dogs and men…I tell ya.

  Chapter Three

  The next day at the barkery started off well. I actually had a few customers and my newest treat—canine crunchies—seemed to be a hit with its target audience. I'd needed some sort of treat that would hold up well and was large enough that I could offer it to unknown dogs without the risk of losing a finger. So far, so good.

  But then Janice Fletcher walked in the door. Janice was an older woman who never got the memo that it's bad for the environment to use that much hairspray. And that mustard-colored polyester slacks went out of style at least a few decades ago.

  Trailing behind her was her best friend, Patsy Blackstone, who had the unfortunate habit of trying to match her clothes to her hair color. Seeing as her hair was some unfortunate shade of orange that was probably supposed to be red, it was not a good look.

  I could've forgiven their unfortunate sartorial choices. (See eleventh grade English teacher, I knew someday I'd make that worthless vocabulary word work for me.) A customer is a customer after all, and I certainly needed more of them.

  But Janice came in with a carrycase in hand—the plastic kind you see people use to take their pets on a plane. Again, not necessarily a problem. We were a bakery for dogs after all.

  It was when she headed right for the center table with a defiant glare in my direction, set the case on the table, and opened it up that the trouble began. She pulled a large, furry white cat out while it meowed in protest at being taken from its comfortable bed. I immediately sneezed because I am very, very allergic to cats, especially big, fluffy white ones.