Саманта Сильвер - Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Barking up the Wrong Tree Willow Bay Witches #2

Samantha Silver

Blueberry Books

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Also by Samantha Silver

About the Author

Chapter 1

Standing in the middle of the entrance way to Healthy Paws Veterinary Clinic, the local vet clinic in Willow Bay that I ran, I couldn’t help but think this was hands down the most chaotic day of work I’d ever had. By a huge, margin.

It had all started early this morning, as soon as I’d come in to work. We weren’t even open yet when one of my regulars, the manager of the local hardware store, Mickey Kane, came in with his border collie Milo, who had gotten a huge splinter in his foot from a discarded log, and absolutely, positively didn’t want anybody touching his paw at all.

Sophie – my best friend and vet technician - and I instantly took Milo to the back, where it took me ten minutes of reasoning with the poor, panicked dog that letting us take the splinter out without complaining was going to be a lot nicer than having to put him in the muzzle and fighting him.

Being able to talk to animals has its plus sides when you’re a vet.

Oh yeah, I should mention: I’m a witch, and my special witchy superpower, that no other witches I know have, is the ability to talk to animals. It led to some crazy rumours when I was a kid, until I was old enough to understand that I shouldn’t do it around other people. Luckily, nowadays the people that knew me growing up just chalk it up to a very active imagination.

Of course, I don’t actually look like what you’d stereotypically expect a witch to look like: instead of warts and a crooked nose I have a nice button-shaped nose, a face that I’ve been told is pretty cute, framed by curly brown hair.

Sophie, on the other hand, is half Japanese, with a streak of bright purple hair among the rest of her straight black locks. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get the witch gene from her mom, and so while she’s aware that I have magical powers and can talk to animals, she’s as human as they get.

Once the whole adventure with Milo was over and done with, Milo leaving with a pretty little blue bandage wrapped around his paw and antibiotics to avoid infection, I figured we were going to settle into a nice day of calm appointments and happy pets.

It was only 10:30 and any dream I had of that happening had long gone out the window.

The first few appointments were completely normal, but then we had to deal with Missy.

Missy was a little bit of an adventurer, even by kitten standards. Nineteen weeks old, pure black, with huge, curious looking blue eyes, I always joked with her owner Kate that she should have named her Columbo.

The appointment itself went completely fine. Missy was just in getting the last of her kitten vaccines, which she wasn’t a big fan of. Unfortunately, when Kate went to put her back in the carrier and opened the door, she didn’t quite close it properly, and Missy took full advantage. It took only a couple of seconds for everything to go from completely normal to fully chaotic.

“Oh no Missy, come back!” Kate cried out, but it was too late. Missy slipped out of the door before I managed to get it back closed, and ran to where all the action was: the lobby.

“Uh oh,” Sophie muttered, and a minute later, I knew why: a sudden cacophony of sound made its way back towards us: dogs barking, cats howling; it was like the world’s most annoying impromptu concert. I looked at Sophie.

“The Maynard dogs are here for their yearly booster and checkup, and one of them is getting spayed.”

“Ohhhhhh boy,” I replied. The Maynards were a family of incredibly nice people, with a farm on the outskirts of town, and they had six dogs who were normally very well trained, who helped them herd the sheep and cattle around, but who absolutely hated coming to the vet. Apparently seeing a loose cat in the lobby was setting them off completely.

“We have to go get Missy!!” Kate yelled, and the three of us ran back towards the lobby. I wasn’t especially worried for Missy’s safety; the kitten was far more agile than even the fastest dog, and as we ran out there she was scampering along the blinds rod, moving back and forth, taunting the barking dogs below who the Maynards, Jackson and Mollie, were desperately trying to keep a hold of.

Karen, my receptionist, was trying to help by moving a chair over towards the window to try and get Missy.

I grabbed one of the Maynard dogs and started taking it towards the exam rooms, hoping to be able to calm them down by moving them away from the cat. Sophie saw and did the same thing, but we both paused to watch as Karen reached over for Missy.

“Be careful, Karen,” I called out, not liking how far over the edge of the chair Karen had to reach to get at the cat. Still, it looked like it might actually work. Missy saw Karen coming and was now standing still, and Karen made one last effort to grab the loose kitten.

“I got this, don’t worry Angela,” Karen replied.

Like a blur, though, Missy leapt off the curtain rod, landing on Karen’s head, who let out a yelp as she began to fall off the chair. Missy jumped off Karen’s head and onto the main counter, right next to my cat Bee, who to her credit had done very little to add to the pandemonium by staying on her bed, where she’d been curled up in a little ball since 8 o’clock that morning. Bee opened one eye to look at the kitten, who scampered along the edge of the counter as Karen fell to the ground with a squeal, the thud of her body hitting the ground sickening.

“Oh! Karen!” I cried, everything snapping back to life.

I took the dog I had and moved him quickly into an exam room.

“It’ll be ok, I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him quickly as I rushed back out to find Karen on the ground, laughing. Thank God.

“Are you ok?” I asked, worry etched on my face.

“I’m totally fine,” Karen replied, accepting kisses from one of the Maynard dogs who was still running free. “I did so much gymnastics growing up, I know how to fall safely,” she replied, and I let out a huge sigh of relief. I’d forgotten that Karen had at one point been Willow Bay’s top gymnast. No wonder she felt comfortable getting up on the chair to try and catch Missy.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Karen,” I told her, and I absolutely meant it. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I helped her to her feet.

“I think I should go to some adult classes though,” Karen replied as she helped me get the rest of the Maynard dogs into the exam room. “I probably shouldn’t have fallen in the first place.”

“Well,” Sophie replied, “I don’t think most gymnasts have to deal with a crazy kitten using their head as a launching pad.”

When all of the dogs were safely in the exam rooms, we found Kate cornering Missy in the little closet-sized room to the side of the lobby where we kept the scale to weigh the animals when they came in.

“Come on, Missy,” I told her. “It’s over. The dogs are gone, so you can stop taunting them. It’s time for you to get in your carrier so you can go home.”

“Absolutely not, I like being free,” Missy hissed at me in reply, and I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t exactly have a conversation with her in front of Kate. One of the most important rules of being a witch was to make sure humans never found out that witches existed. Close family members excluded, of course, which is why Sophie was allowed to know: her mom was a witch.