The Case of the Caged Cockers

by B R Snow

  “You mean the corporate people who sold him the franchise rights?” Josie said.

  “Yeah. How weird is that idea?” I said, glancing over at her.

  “It’s pretty weird,” she said. “But by your standards, it’s not that crazy.”

  I laughed and set the cruise control to sixty-five when we reached the highway.

  “All of a sudden I’m feeling the Christmas spirit,” I said. “I was beginning to wonder if it was going to show up this year.”

  “Well, if buying a seven-hundred-dollar puppy for a complete stranger doesn’t do the trick, nothing will,” Josie said.

  “I need to finish up my shopping,” I said.

  “Me too. We’re running out of time,” Josie said, pulling a fresh bag of the bite-sized Snickers from her coat pocket.

  “You’re like a squirrel hiding nuts to eat later,” I said, nodding at the bag.

  “Hey, it’s a long winter,” she said, holding the bag out for me. “Just wait until you see what I’ve got stashed in the pantry.”

  I laughed then fell silent as I looked through the windshield at the light snow that had begun falling.

  “What do you want for Christmas?” I said eventually.

  “Anything you get me will be just fine, Suzy,” she said, then turned her head and stared at me. “Except a dog.”

  Chapter 16

  After completely whiffing on our attempt to link the four puppies the Baxter Brothers had transported across the River to the van owned by the Happy Family Time pet store in Kingston, I went back to my research on the corporation and its head office in Toronto. It was a decent sized company, but nothing extraordinary by any means. The company’s history briefly mentioned a planned, but ultimately abandoned, attempt to expand into the U.S. For the last several years, growth in the number of franchises had been flat, and the company’s marketing literature came across as a soft-sell at best. I thought it was odd that a company based on a franchising model wasn’t more aggressive, but perhaps their current strategy was to maintain, not grow.

  Maybe they were satisfied with the size and profitability of the corporation.

  Maybe they weren’t capable of expanding the number of franchises without investing a ton of money to support the new growth.

  Maybe they were in a holding pattern on the pet store side until another business opportunity came along that would let them move in a different direction. That thought stuck with me, and I stayed with it for about half an hour before I abandoned it.

  Maybe the whole thing was a simple as the fact that a Happy Family Time staff member had crossed paths with the Baxter Brothers and come up with a way to supplement their incomes by smuggling dogs across the border.

  But if that were the case, then why had the puppy mill we’d found been in such disrepair with a couple dozen dogs close to death? If I were running a sandwich shop, I wouldn’t be buying rotten tomatoes to serve on three-day-old bread.

  I remembered the chicken salad sandwiches with walnuts and a basil-dill mayo on fresh sourdough that Chef Claire had mentioned she was making for lunch, but fought through my hunger pangs and focused on the task at hand.

  I scanned the entire list of Happy Family Time franchisees and found several that were within driving distance of Kingston. My new working theory, or as Josie called it, my latest wild goose chase, was that someone from the pet store in Kingston had borrowed the store’s van, picked up the puppies from the Baxter Brothers, dropped them off, and then returned the van before the store opened the next morning.

  If the puppies had been dropped off at another of the Happy Family Time stores, I knew that I had a decent shot of identifying which one at some point. But if the puppies had been delivered anywhere else, my theory was shot, and I’d have to start over. And starting over meant interacting with the Baxter Brothers. As you might imagine, I was rooting for my Happy Family Time theory to hold water.

  At least more water than the Baxter Brothers’ boat was holding at the moment.

  I know, I know. It’s not nice to gloat.

  But I was allowing myself an exception for that pair of dog abusers.

  And since I was giving myself a pass, I still laughed every time I thought about their boat sunk and laying on its side while still tied to Rooster’s dock.

  I headed for the back of the Inn to see how everyone was doing and found Josie, Sammy, and Jill playing with the Cocker Spaniel puppies in their condo. Since early fall, we’d gone back to our core staff that consisted of the four of us. Usually, we managed to stay busy throughout the winter, but around the holidays things tended to slow down even more, and we were in the middle of a lull. I certainly didn’t mind because it meant that I got to spend most of my day hanging out in the condos playing with the dogs.

  The cocker puppies were doing great and all of them, except Tripod, had already been adopted and were scheduled to be handed over to their new owners on Christmas Eve. Several people had expressed an interest in the three-legged puppy who continued to amaze all of us with how quickly he was overcoming his challenge. But Josie and I had big plans for Tripod and politely refused any and all adoption offers.

  “How’s everyone doing?” I said, sitting down next to Josie.

  One of the puppies immediately hopped into my lap, and I picked her up and held her close as she licked my face

  “They’re little furry balls of fun,” Josie said, laughing as she fended off two of the puppies vying for her attention. “They’ll be ready to go soon.”

  I nodded and watched Sammy roll a ball across the condo. Tripod hopped his way toward the ball, grabbed it in his mouth, and returned. He dropped the ball in Sammy’s lap and wagged his tail furiously as he waited for the next round.

  “Did you make any progress?” Josie said.

  “Tons,” I said.

  “Liar.”

  “I’ve got it narrowed down,” I said.

  Josie snorted.

  “To what? Somewhere on the Canadian mainland?” she said.

  “No,” I snapped. “Ontario. Maybe Ottawa. There are two Happy Family Time stores in Ottawa.”

  Josie thought about my comment and then, to her credit, managed a nod.

  “Well, if we believe your theory, and I don’t, someone could have easily driven from Kingston to Ottawa and returned the van before the store opened.”

  “Yeah, it would be a piece of cake,” I said, then silently chastised myself.

  “Hmmm,” Josie said. “Hey, Sammy. Would you mind doing a Paterson’s run at lunchtime?”

  “Sure,” Sammy said. “You want the usual?”

  “Yes please,” Josie said. “But also grab one of their chocolate cakes while you’re there. Just put it on my tab.”

  “You got it,” Sammy said.

  People ran tabs at their favorite bar. Josie was the only person I knew who had one at a bakery.

  “You’re unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Me? It was your idea.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Who’s the one who mentioned cake?”

  Knowing I’d lost, I let the conversation go and focused on the black ball of fur now sleeping in my lap.

  “We need to go to Ottawa and check out those two stores,” I said, stroking the puppy’s head.

  “Would it be worth my energy to try and talk you out of it?” Josie said.

  “You know better than that. Of course not.”

  Josie nodded and then nuzzled the two puppies before glancing at me.

  “Say, I have an idea, Suzy,” Josie said. “Let’s drive to Ottawa and check out those two pet stores.”

  Chapter 17

  We made the drive from Clay Bay to Ottawa the next morning in less than two hours. Since we’d eaten a hearty breakfast that had even left Chef Claire staring at us in disbelief, we decided to check out the two stores before worrying about refueling. The first store was a complete waste of time and not a pleasant experience. I doubted if the leade
rs of the Happy Family Time company had visited the store in recent years. It was located in a rundown strip mall on the far edge of the city, was filthy, and devoid of animals. The shelves were virtually empty, and the owner was an unpleasant man who spent the entire ten minutes we were there on the phone with his bookie scratching various body parts and whispering vague promises about making a payment on what we decided was a rather large gambling debt.

  “That was pleasant,” Josie said as we headed back to the car.

  “Yeah, I need a shower. I guess he could be the sort of guy who might get involved in smuggling,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Josie said. “But not dog smuggling.”

  “Unless they were Greyhounds,” I deadpanned.

  “Oh, good one,” Josie said. “Dog racing and bookies. I get it.”

  “No need to get snarky,” I said, checking my phone for driving directions to the second store.

  We had better luck there. The place was large and clean with a friendly staff and a lot of animals of all types and sizes. The dog area contained a variety of breeds of different ages and we repeated our cover story about wanting to buy a Lab for our niece.

  “I’m sorry, but we’re out of Labs at the moment,” the young man supervising the dog section said. “But we do have two Golden Retriever puppies from a recent litter.”

  I glanced down into the fenced area and saw the two puppies wrestling with each other on the floor. I started to reach down when I felt my arm being pulled back.

  “No,” Josie snapped. “You pick one of those up, and you’ll be toast.”

  “But just look at them,” I said.

  “I’m doing my best not to,” she said, laughing. Then she turned to the young man. “Would it be possible to talk with the owner about when he’s expecting to get some more Labs?”

  “Sure, I guess,” he said, shrugging.

  We watched him disappear into the back of the store, and a few minutes later a middle-aged man approached.

  “Hello. I’m Bill Waters. Jeff tells me you’re interested in a Lab puppy,” he said, beaming at us.

  His eyes lingered on Josie. It wasn’t an overt leer, but I knew he’d had to stop himself.

  “Yes, for our niece,” I said. “We’d like to give her the puppy for Christmas, but we’re having a hard time finding one that’s ready to go.”

  “Yeah, that can be tough this time of year,” he said.

  “Have you had any lately?” Josie said.

  He stared at Josie for several seconds before responding. I wasn’t sure if her question had touched a nerve or if he was just getting around to leering at her.

  “Yeah, I had four that came in the other day, but they were all pre-sold,” he said, shrugging.

  “Do you think you could give us the number of the breeder?” I said. “Maybe they have still some left from that litter.”

  My question caught him right between the eyes and he glanced around the store as he tried to compose a suitable response.

  “Uh, I doubt if there are any left. The four I got were beautiful, and I’m sure they all went fast,” he said.

  Josie took a step toward him and put a hand on her hip. She brushed the hair back from her face and released a full-on charm assault on the unsuspecting man. She didn’t do it often, but when she did it sure was fun to watch.

  “What kind of Labs were they?” she whispered.

  “Three yellows and a chocolate,” he stammered.

  “Oooh, I love chocolate labs,” she cooed.

  “Yeah, me too,” he said, unconsciously flicking his tongue over his upper lip.

  “How old were they?” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Eight weeks,” he said. “Same as always. They come in ready to go. They’re even already chipped.”

  “It sounds like you made an excellent choice going with that breeder,” she said, again touching his arm.

  “Well, sure,” he stammered. “Nothing but the best for the dogs, right?”

  “Of course. Are you sure the breeder doesn’t have any left?” Josie said, pouting her lips like a disappointed young girl.

  “Well, I guess I can’t say for certain,” he said.

  “Would you mind taking a few minutes to give them a call?” Josie said, gently placing a hand on the man’s arm. “We’d be so grateful.”

  The man swallowed hard and then nodded his head several times. For a moment, he reminded me of a bobblehead doll.

  “I’d be happy to,” he said.

  We watched him walk to the back of the store and disappear from sight.

  “Be careful,” I said, laughing. “He might have a bad heart.”

  “Do you think it’s odd that the puppies are already micro-chipped before they’re delivered?” Josie said.

  “No, I don’t think it’s that unusual. We put chips in all the time.”

  “Yeah, but we have the owner’s information available when we do it,” Josie said.

  “He said they were all pre-sold. All he would need to do is give the info to the breeder, and they could enter it in the dog registration system and print out the owner certificates.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Josie said, shrugging. “Never mind. False alarm.”

  “Three yellows and a chocolate,” I said. “Think it’s a coincidence?”

  “Not a chance,” Josie said.

  “You think this guy is dirty?” I said.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Josie said. “But let’s not make a final decision until we see what he has to say.”

  “Good thinking,” I said, noticing him heading back toward us. “Here he comes. Whatever you do, go easy on him.”

  “I was thinking about showing a bit of cleavage,” Josie said.

  “I wouldn’t,” I said, laughing. “You might kill the poor guy. Besides, I don’t think you’ll need it.”

  He stopped a few feet away from us and spoke to Josie.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But they’re all gone. Apparently, I got the last four.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe we missed out,” Josie whispered. “It sounds like they were great puppies.”

  Josie put her hands on her hips and posed as she stared off into the distance.

  “Perfect,” he mumbled.

  I suppressed a laugh.

  “Would it be possible to get the breeder’s number?” I said.

  He looked at me and seemed surprised to see me. I assumed he’d forgotten I was even there.

  “Uh, I don’t know,” he said, stalling. “This particular breeder is pretty private and only deals with a handful of select sellers.”

  “Like you, right?” Josie said, again placing her hand on the man’s arm.

  “Well, you know,” he said, his face turning red. “What can I say? I take great pride in the dogs I sell.”

  “I understand completely,” Josie said, her pouty lips on full display. “If I were a local breeder, I wouldn’t even consider dealing with anyone else.”

  “Oh, he’s not local,” the man blurted before catching himself. Then he must have decided that revealing the location didn’t matter. “They’re down in Kingston.”

  “Well, you must take our number and be sure to give us a call the next time a litter is ready,” Josie said, finally removing her hand.

  “Oh, I will,” he said, again doing the bobblehead thing. “Maybe I’ll give you a call just for the heck of it.”

  “I’d love that,” Josie said.

  She slowly removed the pen from his shirt pocket and wrote a number on his hand. He glanced down at it, then beamed at Josie.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he said.

  “Oh, you can bet on it,” Josie said, flashing him a big smile.

  “You know,” he said, doing everything he could think of to prolong the conversation, “I’ve been waiting on a litter of Cocker Spaniels. I haven’t gotten an update lately, but I’d be happy to check. Great dogs.”

  “Yes, they are,” Josie said, glancing at me.
“But we’re looking for a bigger dog.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, are you sure I can’t interest you in one of those Golden puppies?” he said.

  “Actually,” I said, taking a step toward the dog area.

  I stopped short when Josie grabbed my hand.

  “We’d love to,” she said, staring directly into his eyes while continuing to apply the death grip to my hand. “But our niece really has her heart set on a Lab.”

  “I understand,” he said, then waved goodbye and walked away staring down at the phone number Josie had written on his hand.

  We left the store and headed for the car.

  “You almost broke my hand,” I said, massaging it.

  “You got off easy,” she said. “You would have bought both of them, wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Unbelievable,” she said.

  “Whose number did you give him?”

  “My Uncle Fred’s office number in Georgia,” Josie said, laughing.

  “The one who works for the FBI?”

  “Yup,” Josie said.

  “You’re too much, I said. “What do you want to do now?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Really?”

  “Fake flirting always makes me hungry.”

  Chapter 18

  The microchip used to help identify lost dogs is about the size of a grain of rice and is implanted under the skin between the shoulder blades via a quick injection. Some people think the chips work like a Global Positioning System where the animal can be tracked, but GPS requires a battery and, therefore, the two systems are very different. The microchips that are implanted in dogs have one function; storing a unique number used to identify the pet’s owner.

  When a lost dog is found, a scanner can be moved over the skin and, if a chip exists, the scanner reads the microchip’s unique ID number. Once that number is identified, either an online search or a call, placed to the company that maintains the registry database, will obtain the owner’s contact information.

  We have one of the scanners and use it all time. We also implant the chips often and are very familiar with the enrollment process. The enrollment form includes a lot of information. In addition to the chip ID, the form included the owner’s contact information, a description and name of the dog, and other information such as the name of the dog’s vet and an emergency contact person.