Рита Браун - Whisker Of Evil

“Blair, Sugar just died,” Harry sorrowfully told her neighbor.

“Good God.” Blair walked to the counter, leaning his elbows on it. “Never really had a chance, did he?”

“I need your help.” Harry walked to the counter directly across from the gorgeous man. “Sugar’s mares will be coming to my farm. May I borrow your tractor and the posthole digger? I can keep them in the upper paddock for a week maybe, but I’ll need to fence in those back acres. I wanted to do it, anyway—just put it off because of time and money.”

“You can have those fence posts I never used. I’ll drop them by your old shed and I’ll leave the tractor there, too.”

“I don’t want to put you out. And you’re too generous.”

“You’ve done plenty for me, Harry; let me do something for you—and Sugar.”

Harry opened her mouth to protest, but Miranda said, “Harry, he’s right. You can be too self-sufficient, dear.”

“Thank you, Miranda,” Pewter, stretched on the halfway shelf behind the postboxes, agreed.

“Humans are funny about favors.” Tucker thought Blair was fine, but some people would hold the favor to your face ever after bestowing it upon you.

“Humans are funny, period,” Pewter, resident cynic, said.

Mrs. Murphy, who had been behind the post office prowling through Miranda’s garden, burst through the animal door. “Cop!”

A loud knock on the back door was followed by an even louder knock.

“Just a moment,” Miranda called.

“Jerome Stoltfus. Animal control!”

Miranda opened the door, and Jerome, all one hundred twenty pounds of him, stepped through. “Where’s that cat?”

“She’s not here,” Mrs. Murphy called from under the mail cart.

“I want to see her papers,” Jerome, who had a large, drooping mustache, demanded.

“What papers?” Harry endured Jerome rather than liked him. This seemed to be the town consensus.

“Rabies vaccination.” He folded his arms across his scrawny chest. “And I want them for the fat cat and that tailless dog, too.”

“Who are you calling fat?” said she who was.

“First of all, Jerome, as you can see, Tucker is wearing her rabies tag. If you’ll bend down and examine it you’ll note it’s correctly dated.”

Jerome knelt down as Tucker glanced sideways at him. Being a good girl, she did not curl her lip, but she wanted to because she didn’t like strangers reaching for her. She thought it was rude, and the corgi could never understand why so few humans bothered to learn canine manners.

“Okay.” He stood back up. “But what about those two cats? Animals are here in a public place. Shouldn’t be here, Harry. Shouldn’t be here. Could be passing diseases. Allergies.”

“I’ve had my animals here since I first took this job, Jerome. It’s a little late to complain.” Harry’s face reddened.

Blair’s pleasant voice carried authority. “You know Harry takes excellent care of her pets.”

“I want the paperwork,” Jerome spat.

While he was laying down the law, Miranda called Martin Shulman, D.V.M. When he came on the line she quietly explained what was afoot, then handed the phone to Jerome.

“Yes.” Jerome sounded very important.

“Mr. Stoltfus,” Martin Shulman cleverly addressed Jerome by his last name, “I have the records for both Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, and they had their booster shots last February. Where would you like me to fax these so you need not trouble yourself to come to the clinic?”

“Well, uh, the county office.” Jerome gave the number. “Thanks.” He hung up the phone, glared at the two cats as Mrs. Murphy joined Pewter on the ledge. “Spoiled rotten cats.”

“Dimwit,” Pewter sassed.

“Wienie, ” Mrs. Murphy added her two cents.

Jerome, hand on the back doorknob, turned and said, “I’m going to protest to Pug Harper about these animals. It’s not sanitary. And Blair Bainbridge, I’ll be at your farm to check your paperwork in”—he checked his digital watch—“twenty minutes, and that means the cattle, too. Harry, I want to see the paperwork on your horses.”

“I’ll have Fair fax it to you.” Harry had written down Jerome’s office number when he gave it to Dr. Shulman.

“You do that.” Jerome opened the door, then pointed to the animal door and said, “Got to close that up. Dangerous. Rabid animals or terrorists could use this to gain entry.” With that jump of logic he left.

“Mr. Personality,” Blair dryly commented. “Well, I guess I have work to do.” He rapped the counter. “Harry, if you need it, you can use my adjoining pasture, the cemetery pasture. There’s plenty of water in that pasture, too, and the fencing is good. Oh—I’d keep my eye out for terrorists crawling through the animal door if I were you.”

“Right.” Harry half-smiled, for she was doubly unhappy. She was upset about Jerome and just miserable over Sugar.

“Bye, ladies.”

As Blair walked outside into the sunshine, Harry gritted her teeth. “I will kill Jerome Stoltfus, that idiot!”

“A little man with a little power is much worse than a big man with big power,” Miranda sagely noted.

“Oh, Miranda.” Harry threw up her hands, then sat down at the small table covered in a checkered tablecloth. Tears filled her eyes.

“Honey, what’s the matter?” Miranda, motherly and kind, put her arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Mrs. Murphy and Tucker hurried over to comfort Harry. Pewter walked over, but slowly. It wouldn’t do to be too obvious in her devotion.

“I don’t know.” Harry reached for a napkin to dab her eyes.

“Sugar is with the Lord. ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’ Sugar is forgiven and in a better place.” She had quoted Psalm 51, First Verse. “And as for Jerome, well, he will make trouble, so the way to head him off is to draw up a petition. Ned Tucker can do that for us and have every single postal patron sign it.”

“What?”

“A petition that declares Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker are valuable members of our community and the post office can’t function without them.” Miranda smiled down at the three faces looking up at her. It was uncanny, but sometimes Miranda thought they understood.

“She’s come a long way. Remember when she didn’t like cats and dogs?” Tucker recalled.

“ A lot of people are like that until they get to know us.” Mrs. Murphy rubbed against Miranda’s leg.

“Miranda, that’s a wonderful idea.” Harry cried a little harder.

“Now, you don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it.” Miranda patted her on the back.

“I feel like I’m slipping.” Harry wiped her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’m stalled out and I don’t know where I’m going. I feel terrible about Sugar and Barry, too. And I’m sitting in the post office getting cussed out by Jerome Stoltfus, whose IQ hovers at his body temperature. You know?” Her voice lifted up, lilting. “And Pug Harper is going to come on down here and be nice, but it won’t be nice for us.” She reached down to stroke Tucker’s glossy head.

“That’s why this petition is going on Pug’s desk.”

Harry, more composed, leaned back in the chair. “Miranda, I don’t say but so much, but I know how things work. Pug will acquiesce to the petition and be all smiles. Jerome will slow down once this rabies scare is over, plus he will irritate so many people in the pursuit of his duties that Jim Sanburne will haul him on the carpet. What will happen to me is when the new post office is built, that’s when the boom will be lowered. No cats and dogs.”