The Nose Knows
The
Nose
Knows
A Spunky Mystery
Holly L. Lewitas
The Nose Knows: A Spunky Mystery
Copyright © 2012 Holly L. Lewitas. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Wheatmark
®
1760 E. River Road, Suite 145,
Tucson, Arizona 85718 U.S.A.
www.wheatmark.com
ISBN: 978-1-60494-784-7
LCCN: 2011944537
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are not intended to represent any real, live human being. The humans in this book are fictional characters whose personalities and motivations I invented for the purpose of entertaining my readers.
To my muse—Sarah.
You convinced me I should write.
To Alvin.
My forever love.
Oh, how you mattered.
You convinced me I could do anything.
I owe an immeasurable debt to my editor,
John M. Daniel.
His talent, kindness, patience, and
encouragement were valuable lifelines.
His commitment to writing in a true voice might
annoy the comma police, but I treasured it.
The man has spunk!
I will forever be indebted to my mother,
Kathryn C. McCown.
At ninety-two, you are still teaching me
how to live in the moment with
dignity, humor, and grace.
You are an amazing woman!
CONTENTS
“H
umans baffle me. Why do they complain so much? They miss so much good stuff! This sun puddle is a perfect example. It just popped through the window. A human would see it, step right in it, and keep on walking. Me? I see this sun puddle. I appreciate this sun puddle, and I fully intend to make the best use of this sun puddle. I’m going to stretch out this good-looking body of mine and have a great nap. Humans sure miss a lot, don’t you agree, Fearless?”
Of course, Fearless was right in the middle of one of his endless cat-grooming rituals. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him from answering me in that arrogant tone he knows I despise.
“Spunky—
breath
—has it ever occurred to you that humans—
breath
—complain a lot because they have to deal with you—dogs?”
Despite Fearless’s respiratory problem, he always has enough air to deliver a snide remark.
And so do I. “Oh, quit being so uppity. The phrase ‘man’s best friend’ certainly was not inspired by a cat!”
Fearless jumped off the file cabinet and batted me on the nose. He was well on his way to the kitchen before I could retaliate.
I growled. “Hey, you coward, come back here. Try that again when my eyes are open!”
Fearless kept walking. He’s a big, muscular cat with brown and black tiger stripes. He weighs in at almost eighteen pounds, and he’s also long of limb. Right now, he was putting those long legs to good use doing his haughty walk. You know the one, where he saunters away with his tail straight up while sashaying his hips. The walk that says, “I’m better than you any time, any day!”
Despite the temptation to snatch some fur off him, I didn’t abandon my sun puddle. One must keep their priorities straight. Glorious sun puddles like this one don’t come around every day. They shouldn’t be wasted. Any fool knows that, even a cat!
Besides, Mom was busy at her computer and didn’t see Fearless swipe my nose. If we started a tussle now, Mom might blame me and then Fearless would gloat all day. It was much wiser to let Fearless think he’d gotten away with it. There would be time for payback later.
Besides, I had to behave—a pair of eyes was scrutinizing me. They belonged to the new pup, Mom’s latest rescue, named Willy. My job was to shape him up while Mom worked on finding him a new home. So far, he’d been a good student. Nevertheless, the idea of training up another one was—well, just plain exhausting.
I wish Moxie were here. She was my mentor. Any critter with as many grey hairs as I have knows great wisdom comes from great mentors. Moxie was the best but she went over the Rainbow Bridge years ago. My two-legged Dad, who also was a great help with the rescues, has also gone over the Bridge.
Oops, the pup was heading my way. He needed to understand that a sun-puddle nap should never be interrupted. I issued a warning stare. Good, it worked. I used the one that said, “Don’t even think about it.” He read it correctly, did a three-point turn, and lay back down. I decided he might not be so hard to train after all.
My quiet moment was abruptly broken by cats yowling and Mom yelling. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what’s all the ruckus? You boys had better quit it right now, or I’m going to beat your butts! Bobby, do you hear me?”
The commotion was occurring in the other room, so Mom was guessing at Bobby’s involvement. However, my ears had no trouble discerning the two voices involved—definitely Bobby and Sweetie. Mom headed to the kitchen. I had no fear she’d actually beat any butts. She’s all talk.
“Spunky, help!—
wheeze—
Sweetie is—
wheeze
—in trouble.—
wheeze—
Come quick!” Fearless sounded frantic. I ran to the kitchen.
Once there, I paused. No fool gets between two fighting cats. Claws are horrific weapons. My ears had correctly identified the culprits, Bobby and Sweetie. The other possible suspect, Fancy-Pants, was already halfway to the critter door. While I knew Fancy hadn’t been scared off by the cats’ fighting, Mom’s pounding feet and shrill voice must have convinced him he’d be safer outside.
I was all set to distract the cats with one of my loud, angry barks, but then I realized they weren’t fighting. Bobby and Sweetie were roughhousing. It sounded like they were killing each other, but these two adolescent brothers were having a good old wrestling match.
This didn’t matter to Mom. She arrived armed with her squirt bottle. Both cats got a heavy dose of water. It worked. They backed away. Bobby started to advance again. He was being stubborn, not threatening. His ears weren’t even back. But Mom’s were, and this time her squirt caught him right in the head. “Bobby, I mean it. Enough!” She scooped Bobby up and tossed him out the back door. “You just stay out there for a while and cool off.” I heard the lock snap into place on the critter door. I also heard Bobby complaining, “Hey, Ma, chill out!”
Bobby and Sweetie are brothers. Like Fearless, they too are tiger-striped tabbies, but they are younger than Fearless. They’re not even two years old. From the front, these boys look a lot alike. But it’s a different picture from the back side. Bobby is a bobtail, Sweetie is not. If you’re observant, you’ll notice Bobby has rusty brown colors mixed in with his black stripes, while Sweetie’s colors are grey and black.
Their personalities are also poles apart. Bobby is the first to check out what’s going on. He has his nose into everything, especially if a human is involved. He lives out his belief that cats rule! Some cats rub on you. Bobby head-butts you. He’s clever and cagey. He’s also the reigning escape artist. He can sneak out a door so quick Mom’s oblivious until she spots him running toward the woods. Bobby loves a challenge.
Sweetie, on the other hand, stays in the background and waits to see what Bobby discovers. Maybe Sweetie’s the smarter one; he lets Bobby take the risks. Sweetie will always show up, but he’s never first. He’s a big, kind, gentle cat. Have you ever noticed that certain dogs or cats stay closer to you when you’re sad? It’s as if they know, at that moment, you need a friend. These critters are endowed with empathy that surpasses what the rest of us have. Sweetie was born with it—he has the gift of compassion.
In short, Bobby will make you frown, laugh, or yell. Sweetie will make you smile.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” Mom asked. By now, Sweetie was under the couch. He doesn’t like the squirt bottle or Mom yelling. Neither one really fazes Bobby. He backs off but he looks at Mom as if she’s crazy. Sweetie, however, gets upset.
Mom was down on the floor trying to convince Sweetie to come out. Finally he did. He climbed up in her lap and started rubbing her face. As Mom talked and petted, Sweetie’s purr volume increased. “Oh, Mom, I love you. Please don’t yell anymore.”
I looked around for Fearless. “Fearless, are you all right? Hey, where are you?” Fearless hates it when the other cats fight. As soon as they start quarreling, he usually vanishes. Whenever possible, I try to ignore the cat squabbles. I have to; there are four of them in this house and a bunch more outside. Heck, I’d never get a nap if I responded to every disagreement.
Fearless, on the other hand, is unable to ignore this behavior. A big, nasty tomcat hurt his mother when he was just a baby, so the sound of a catfight still causes him to panic.
“Fearless, they’re fine. No one got hurt. Where are you, buddy?” I walked into the bedroom. His scent was concentrated under the bed. I stuck my nose under the dust ruffle. “Come on out, Fearless. It’s all over.”
“You—
wheeze—
promise?—
breath—
Is Sweetie
—
breath
—all right?” Fearless was more breathless than usual. He always needs to take extra breaths, but when he’s upset he wheezes, and then it’s even harder for him to catch his breath.
“Yeah. He’s fine. Just calm down. Besides, you know as well as I do, Sweetie can whip Bobby’s butt. He weighs eight pounds more than Bobby does. No one can beat up Sweetie.”
“I know—I just saw Bobby—biting Sweetie’s neck—Sweetie yowled and—I got scared.”
“You don’t seem so scared when you try to do that neck biting trick on me!”
“Oh, well that’s different—
You
don’t have any real claws!” His breathing was returning to normal.
“Good thing for you I don’t! Are you going to stay under there? ”
“Yeah, it’s peaceful.—I’m okay now. Thanks—for checking on me.”