“Maybe. You know, just for a while. Sort of foster it. If they need me too.”
“Okay, I’m lost, Giselle. Are you talking about the shelter?” I knew Giselle had volunteered off and on for the county animal shelter for a long time, and they got all kinds of animals, but I didn’t realize they had an off-site fostering program.
“Umm, no. I, umm, you know, I go to Treasures on Earth now and, umm, I’m learning to be a Guardian.”
I flashed on the parking lot outside the Treasures on Earth Spiritual Renewal Center and tried to imagine Giselle’s beat-up old Yugo among the luxury cars there. Or Giselle hanging out with Mrs. Willard or even Giselle’s own well-heeled-and-coiffed cousin Persephone. “Yeah, I saw the sticker on your car on my way in. That’s quite a shift, Giselle, isn’t it?”
“No, umm, not really, not so much? You know, it’s all about loving the world and taking care of Mother Earth and her creatures?” Giselle was back to her old habit of making every sentence sound like a question. Still, everything she said echoed what Neil had told me at dinner.
We had reached the head of the line again, so I put my next question on hold, planning to continue after Precious and Jay did their stays and recalls. Precious finished and I told Jay to sit and stay. I had just reached the far end of the ring and turned to face my dog when a half-grown Brittany slipped her collar and zoomed around the place looking for a playmate. She ran up to Jay, licked his chin, backed away, and bowed, an invitation as clear as any you might get in the mail. Jay’s fanny was wriggling but he remained sitting. The Brittany apparently decided he was a fuddy duddy and took off again. On her third lap, Tom managed to stop her with a piece of hotdog. He slipped a lead under her chest and let her nibble the meat from between his fingers while her mortified owner got the collar back on her. I walked the length of the ring back to Jay and gave him, one by one, five pieces of homemade cheesie garlic treats to reward him for staying despite supreme distraction. Then I left him again, walked across the ring, and called him to me. He slid to a slightly crooked sit in front of me. I gave him another treat and released him and took him out of the ring for a belly rub.
“Can’t ask for a better stay than that,” said Tom, leaning over to scratch Jay’s chin and confirm that he was, as I thought I’d already made clear, a very good dog.
I stood up and grinned at Tom. “Nice catch there.”
“Hey, I’m irresistible,” he said, and winked at me.
“Full of it, too.” I looked around the room. “Have you seen Giselle since the excitement?”
“I think she left.”
“What?”
“I saw her go out the back door with her crate in one hand and training bag in the other,” he said. “She looks great, huh? Guess the boot camp she went to was good for her.”
“You know about that?”
“I ran into her on campus the other day. I forgot to tell you.”
“On campus?” The last I had heard, Giselle was working full time
in her father’s dry cleaning store.
“She’s back in school. I ran into her outside the registrar’s office.”
“Wow.” I told Tom about Giselle’s cousin, Persephone, and her bird, Ava, and about Giselle’s new affiliation with Treasures on Earth. “What do you make of the idea that they have a bird fostering program?”
“That is weird.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached down and stroked Drake’s ear. “Let me go do a signal run-through while Marietta is still running utility over there. Then we can blow this joint, huh?”
I took Jay back into the heeling ring, where group sits and downs were up next. People were lining their dogs up along one side of the ring, and I slipped Jay into a spot between a Cardigan Welsh Corgi and a Doberman. Collin Lahmeyer was still in charge, and when we were all in position he said, “Let’s alternate sits and downs and do three and a half minutes.” He went down the line pointing at each of us for sit or down. “Position your dogs.” I had Jay lie down. “Leave your dogs.”
Three and a half minutes may not sound like much, but for a green dog it’s interminable. For me, with Mr. Reliable, it was no problem, but the Corgi next to Jay saw the dogs on either side of him lying down and decided he should do the same, although he’d been told to sit and stay. His owner had to go back three times to reposition him. Each time he shortened the distance between himself and his dog, and by the end he was standing two feet from the Corgi, who sat for the remaining time. Collin finally told us to return to our dogs. I had just circled behind Jay to stand at his right side when the front door opened and my eyes went wide.
“Exercise finished,” said Collin.
I picked up my leash and snapped it onto Jay’s collar. Normally
I would tell him, again, what an excellent dog he is, but this time I murmured instead, “Holy crap, Bubby, what is he doing here?”
Neil spotted me and met me at the gate to the ring. “Hi, Janet. My! I had no idea so many grownups like to play with dogs.” He was smiling, but I didn’t like the condescension in his tone.
“Can’t think of anyone better to play with than my dog, actually. What are you doing here, Neil?” And how the heck did you know to find me here? Did I mention Dog Dayz? I couldn’t remember.
“I was out this way and thought I’d stop in and see what you’re up to.” He intercepted a long white hair that was floating toward his navy T-shirt and shot Jay an accusatory look, which prompted Bad Janet to whisper an idea in my ear. I resisted the urge to listen to her.
“Come over here and sit down for a minute,” I said, and led him to the chairs along the wall. I sat next to him and Jay immediately moved in sideways against both our knees.
Neil scooted his chair back as far as he could and brushed the dog hair off his navy pants.
“Oh, sorry about the hair. He’s shedding.”
“Clearly.” Neil’s mouth smiled at me, but his eyes still didn’t join in. “Have to admit, she has a pretty coat. It shimmers.”
The words were barely out of Neil’s mouth when Jay went into a full-body shake, sending a fine cloud of white and silver hairs flying.
Neil jumped up and started madly whacking at his thighs and knees, a horrified look on his face. I had to laugh, but said at the same time, “Oh, jeez, sorry! That’s one of his tricks.”
Neil gaped at me.
“‘Shimmer,’” I whispered, then in a normal voice, “is his cue to shake. I don’t think anyone has ever given that command by accident before.”
“So it’s my fault.” For a guy who didn’t much like dogs, he growled quite well.
“I didn’t say that.” I laughed, glancing past Neil to where Tom stood
in the far practice ring with Drake. He smiled at me. I smiled back, then returned my focus to Neil. “I don’t think doggy environments are really your thing, Neil.”
“I think not.” He finally stopped picking dog hair off his clothes and looked at me. “I was going to ask you out for dessert or something, but …” He didn’t say I was a mess in so many words, but I thought I’d help him out.
“I actually have plans, but thanks anyway.”
Looking relieved, Neil said goodnight and left. Probably the last you’ll see of him, I thought, not unhappily.
“Want to go out for dessert?” Tom stepped up from behind me, and Drake bumped my knee with his nose.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a mess.”
“You are?” He grinned at me. “Makes us a matched set.”
I agreed to meet him at Bob Evans for berry cobbler á la mode.
twenty
Thursday morning came very early. After the berry cobbler the night before, Jay and I ended up at Tom’s house, so I had to get up early to race home, feed Leo and Jay, shower, change, grab my camera, and get to the vet clinic. I wasn’t exactly punching a clock there, mind you, but Dr. Kerry had told me they had some interesting clients coming in early. First on the schedule was a twenty-two-pound Giant Flemish rabbit who, at that weight, w
as a giant even for the breed. After that she had a dog coming in that she thought I would find interesting, although she didn’t give me any particulars.
My phone rang just as I pulled into the vet clinic parking lot.
“Hi, Bill.”
“Hi, Sis. What’s up?”
“I’m just about to start a photo shoot for that article about the vet. Can we meet later? Lunch maybe?”
“Can’t do lunch. What’s up? Norm thought it sounded important. Something wrong with Mom?”
“No, nothing new with her really, but it is important.” I got out of the car and grabbed my camera bag. “Bill, really, I can’t get into it now. You don’t have any time today?”
He heaved a big dramatic Bill sigh. “I could meet you on my way. Eleven forty-five? Downtown?”
“I can do that.” I stopped outside the door to finish the conversation. “Where’s your lunch?”
“Parkview Field.”
“You’re having lunch at the ball park?” Bill is not a hotdogs and peanuts kind of guy.
“New client. Big one. So yes, I’m having lunch at the ballpark.”
We settled on the Botanical Conservatory, which is both right next to the ballpark and one of my favorite places. I figured that if I left the clinic at eleven fifteen, I’d just have time to dash home, grab the paperwork on Mom’s house, and find a parking place. I turned my phone off, stuck it in my camera bag, and went in.
I found Dr. Kerry in the back room. She was leaning over a big book that lay open on an exam table. Judging by how high she jumped when I said hello, she was so focused on her reading that she didn’t hear me come in.
“Sorry.”
“Eh, no problem.”
“Must be a good book.”
“Just brushing up on my leporids.”
“Rabbits.”
Kerry’s eyebrows shot up. “Very good.”
I didn’t tell her it was a wild guess based on knowing she had a rabbit coming in.
A young man I hadn’t seen before came in from the lobby with a folder in his hand and said, “Your first patient is here.” He wore blue scrubs, a badge that said “Brian,” and a look of astonishment. “It’s the biggest bunny I’ve ever seen!”
Kerry slapped the book shut and laughed. “He’s the biggest bunny anyone’s ever seen.” She introduced us, told Brian he could get things ready for the next client, and headed for the exam room with me in tow.
It was the biggest bunny I had ever seen. His head was as big as Jay’s and his ears were nearly as long as my forearm. Dr. Kerry held the backs of her fingers in front of the creature’s nose and cooed “Hello, Van Dyke” as he sniffed and then rubbed his cheek against her hand. Van Dyke’s owner was a forty-ish man with, appropriately, a Van Dyke beard.
“Janet MacPhail, meet Peter Wills.” Then she explained what I was doing there and asked if it would be okay to photograph Van Dyke.
“Oh, my, Van Dyke!” Peter clapped his hands and the rabbit turned to look at him, nose twitching. “You’ll be famous!”
The rest of the visit was uneventful and Van Dyke cooperated all the way, especially when Dr. Kerry produced a small carrot from her pocket.
After Van Dyke, we saw a pair of tuxedo cats, sixteen-year-old brothers adopted as kittens from the shelter and still looking spry, and a black tri-colored Aussie puppy in to get his second round of puppy shots and to make me go completely gaga. A lovely morning of routine visits and puppy breath.
“Okay, the next client is the dog I think you’ll find interesting,” said Kerry. “He’s a wildlife detection dog.”
For an instant that baffled me, since most dogs seem to detect wildlife with no trouble at all. Then her meaning hit me. “You mean like a drug detection dog, but for smuggled wildlife?”
“Yep.” She moved to the sink and scrubbed for the umpteenth time that morning. That was one of the reasons I used this clinic. They are fastidious about cleanliness.
“In Fort Wayne?”
“Yep.” She dried her hands, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and turned toward me. “They’ve actually intercepted several smugglers in the past few months, here in Allen, as well as Marion and Delaware counties.” She was describing a series of counties that coincided with Interstate 69, the fastest route between Indianapolis and the Canadian border.
“What are they smuggling?”
“Monkeys. Reptiles. Birds. Occasionally other things. Mostly tropical, many endangered. Come on.” She headed down toward the exam room. “It’s horrible. You wouldn’t believe how they pack the animals to hide them.” I already knew more than I wanted to know, although I didn’t like to think about it. I couldn’t, in fact, without fighting back tears. Fortunately we reached the exam room door before my mind could dredge up too many articles I had read and photos I had seen. “Anyway,” said Kerry, reaching for the doorknob, “Lennen has led to a number of intercepts.”
Lennen stood to greet us, tail banging against the base of the exam table and a big Labrador grin on his face. His handler also stood and offered her hand. “Di Holman. Dr. Kerry tells me you’re a photographer.”
“Janet MacPhail. And yes. Working on a ‘day in the life’ photo essay. Okay if I photograph Lennen’s exam?”
She hesitated. “You can take the photos. I’ll remove his working ID. No photos of me, and no names. Not even Lennen’s. And no mention of his job. Just generic chocolate Lab.”
I looked the question at her and waited.
“For his safety. He’s one of very few dogs who do this job, and he’s damn good at it. He’s cost the smugglers a few bucks and he’s only been working about nine months.” She reached down and scratched the base of the dog’s tail. “I’ll know it’s him in the pictures. That’s enough.” She smiled at her dog, then looked at me. “Dr. Kerry told you what he does?”
“Briefly. He detects wildlife being smuggled in?”
“Right.”
“I thought that activity was all through tropical ports. Don’t most of the birds come from the tropics?” The long red feather in the bag that Drake found fluttered into my mind. I had never thought that it came from a local game bird. Maybe a parrot, or some other exotic bird. But that didn’t explain what it was doing in a canvas bag, on a tiny island in a private lake.
“… so they’re trying new routes, including the Great Lakes.” I had tuned out most of what Di said and didn’t want to look like a complete birdbrain, so I didn’t ask her to repeat the rest. I considered mentioning the bag and feather but decided to wait and talk to Detective Jo Stevens.
Lennen, it turned out, had cut his foot on some broken glass, and a sliver of it was stuck in his pad. While Dr. Kerry pulled it out and cleaned the wound, Lennen smooched with Brian, the vet tech who was holding him. I took photos and Di talked about some of the animals Lennen had rescued. “It’s barbaric, the way these sleazebags try to conceal the animals, and sometimes so stupid it would be funny, if not for the cruelty involved.”
“I read about some guy who tried to bring a baby gibbon through customs under his sweatshirt,” I said. “It was clinging around his waist as it would to its mother.” There had been a photo on a website I’d discovered while looking up something else.
“Right. Lennen indicated a woman about a month ago. I wasn’t even on duty, and we stopped at a rest stop on the highway. He goes where I go, and we were in the ladies’ room. He just insisted the woman had something in a cosmetic case she was carrying, so I detained her, got the state police to come, and they searched her.”
“And?” Kerry had finished with Lennen and gave her full attention to his handler.
“So, inside the case was a paper bag with thirteen hair curlers. And inside each curler was a live Guyanese finch.”
“Seriously?” I asked, knowing as I said it how dumb it sounded.
“They sell for anywhere from three hundred to a thousand dollars or more.”
“But curlers?” I couldn’t imagine stuffing a little bird into a plas
tic tube.
“Right.” Di said as she and Kerry lifted Lennen off the table and Di put his official collar back on. “The plastic is more rigid, so more protective, than toilet paper rollers, which a lot of the lowlifes use. And they don’t set off metal detectors.”
Kerry spat out a string of interesting names for the smugglers, then asked, “What happened to the birds?”
“The live ones were held for evidence at a private, legal aviary in Indianapolis. Three had died. Once the trial is over, the survivors will be returned to Guyana, quarantined, and released. Assuming there are any survivors.”
“What?” Kerry and I both blurted.
“Finches live, what, Doc, nine or ten years? Legal wrangling could take a couple of years. And who knows how old the birds were when caught. Just sayin’.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more depressing, Peg came in to say a dog that had been hit by a car was on its way in. Di and Lennen left, and Brian and Dr. Kerry went into high gear preparing the surgical area. They were all set when the distraught driver arrived with the dog. “I didn’t see him, he just ran out from between parked cars, going like hell, I didn’t see him, will he be okay, I was only going twenty-five, he doesn’t even have a tag or collar.” She stopped to take a breath and, as soon as the little dog was out of her arms and in Brian’s, she burst into tears. Peg, the receptionist, took charge of the driver and I followed Brian to the surgical area where they were already setting up for x-rays.
I stayed out of the way but managed to get a few shots. While Dr. Kerry waited for the radiographs she examined the dog, who was now panting heavily but remaining calm. He whimpered softly when Kerry touched his thigh. “Broken, I think.” She kept one hand lightly on the dog’s shoulder. “Janet, could you get me the microchip scanner from that drawer. Let’s see if this little guy is chipped.” He was, and Kerry asked me to take the scanner to Peg and have her look up the dog’s microchip identification and, if possible, notify the owner.
When I returned, the dog had been anesthetized and his back leg shaved from hip to hock, the joint above the foot. I took more photos as Kerry set the leg. “You don’t wait to be sure the owner will pay for this?” I asked.
The Money Bird (An Animals in Focus Mystery) Page 9
