Molly Fitz - Chihuahua Conspiracy (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 6)

He’s given his old device to the president of his fan club, a raccoon who lives under our front porch. His name is Pringle, and he’s a pretty all right guy most of the time. Octo-Cat definitely enjoys having a fanboy to support every single decision he makes, including his regular criticism of me.

It’s true. Octo-Cat complains a lot, but I also know he loves me tons. That’s why I’m planning a special evening to celebrate our petaversary. I’m not sure he remembers, but after tonight he will.

I can’t wait to see the look on his little kitty face when he sees what I have planned for him. Let the games begin!

It wasn’t easy hiding my party preparations from Octo-Cat, but so far he hadn’t managed to catch on. Rather than cooking something myself, I asked Nan to pick up some grilled shrimp and lobster rolls from the Little Dog Diner in Misty Cove. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth every mile.

Nan would be returning any minute, which meant it was time for me to wake the guest of honor. I found him sleeping in his five o’clock sunspot on the western side of the house. “Wakey, wakey!” I cried in a sing-song voice he loathed.

“Angela,” he groaned, “haven’t you ever heard that you should let sleeping cats lie?”

“I’m pretty sure the expression is—you know what? It doesn’t matter. C’mon, I have a surprise for you.”

Whoa, close one. I almost used the word dog in a sentence. That little slipup would have ruined our whole night, but I caught myself just in time.

“A surprise?” he asked, yawning so wide that his whiskers overlapped in front of his nose. “What is it?”

“You’ll see. C’mon.” I patted my leg and motioned for him to follow.

But he sat his butt back down on the hardwood floor and flicked his tail. “Tell me, or I’m not coming,” he demanded.

“Octo-Cat, can’t you just—Ugh, fine. Today marks one year since we first met. Do you remember that day?”

“So you mean it’s been one year and one day since Ethel died?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and staring me down.

Oh, I didn’t think of that. I hoped he wouldn’t be too sad to celebrate.

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” he said with a cruel laugh, trotting over as he shook his head. “Happy anniversary, Angela. I’m glad you’re my human.”

Footsteps sounded on the porch. I hadn’t even heard Nan pull up, but now she was here, and we could officially begin our little party. I’d asked my boyfriend, Charles, to wait a couple hours before he turned up, since he and Octo-Cat didn’t get along particularly well as of late.

I secretly loved that my cat was jealous of my boyfriend but hoped that he’d eventually get over it.

“Nan?” I called when Octo-Cat and I reached the bottom of the stairs, but she still hadn’t entered. Padding over to the door, I twisted the knob and—

A wagging ball of black fur pounced into the house.

“I’m here! I’m home! Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy!” the little dog cried, then immediately squatted and peed on the welcome mat.

I turned to Octo-Cat, who stood on the last stair with his back arched and his tail at full-blown puffball status. “Angela, what is this?” he screamed, unwittingly drawing the dog’s attention over to him.

“A cat! A cat! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy!” The dog, who upon closer examination appeared to be a Chihuahua, bounded right up to Octo-Cat and pressed his nose to the cat’s butt.

Octo-Cat hissed, growled, swiped with his claws, and sent the little dog shrieking away.

Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!

“What’s all this commotion?” Nan asked, charging into the house, spotting the little black dog and scooping the poor, whimpering baby into her arms. “Okay, fess up. Who hurt my Paisley?”

“Nan…” I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the rapidly building headache. “Why is there a dog in our house?”

“This is Paisley. Yes, she is,” Nan cooed in a baby voice, and the Chihuahua licked her cheek, the horrible, scary cat and the pain he’d inflicted apparently forgotten. “She lives here now.”

“Oh, heck no!” Octo-Cat shouted from his spot on the stairs. “I thought we were celebrating me tonight, not taking a visit to the ninth circle of hell!”

“Nan,” I said trying to make peace before everyone lost their cool. “We can’t have a dog here. Octo-Cat hates dogs.”

“Hatesssssss,” Octo-Cat hissed, then growled again.

“He hates me?” the shivering little dog asked. “He doesn’t even know me. I’m Paisley, and I’m a good girl.”

Nan continued to talk in a goochie-goo voice, keeping her eyes glued to the mostly black tri-color Chihuahua in her arms. “Well, I saw this little girl at the shelter and right away she stole my heart. What was I supposed to do?”

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at me. “Was I supposed to let her stay in that cage all by herself? Or, Heaven forbid, let them put her down when the shelter got too full?” She covered Paisley’s oversized ears and frowned at me.

“No, I mean…” I sputtered. “No, of course you couldn’t do that.” Ack, I was such a softie.

“Octavius is just going to have to get used to his new housemate, because I’m not taking her back,” Nan said in a way that made it more than clear that this topic was not up for discussion. “C’mon, baby, let’s go outside and meet the forest creatures.”

Once Nan and Paisley were safely outside, I searched around for Octo-Cat so I could both explain and apologize on Nan’s behalf.

But he was nowhere to be found.

Crud, he was never going to forgive me for this one.

Chapter Two

I found Octo-Cat at last in my bedroom, where he was crouched under my bed, his wide amber eyes glowing in the darkness. When I flopped down on my belly to get a closer look, he emitted a low growl that made me jump in my skin.

“Go away,” he added in a rumbly, somewhat terrifying voice.

“That’s not fair,” I enunciated as if scolding a petulant child. “Might I remind you that I was just as shocked by that as you were.”

I searched my brain for the right way to spin things, the way that would make him understand. Unfortunately, all logic tended to go out the window whenever Octo-Cat was unhappy—and today’s unhappiness had already reached a record-breaking level.

With great difficulty, I managed to put a happy-go-lucky smile on my face as I said, “But, I mean, if you think about it, it kind of makes sense. Right? We have each other, and now Nan has a best fur friend of her own, too. Isn’t that nice?”

“No,” the tabby replied stubbornly and turned his face toward the wall.

I hated that he was this upset, but there was nothing I could do without him being willing to at least meet me partway. “Will you at least come out for our petaversary?” I begged, practically whined.

Octo-Cat turned toward me again; his eyes still held that eerie glow as he considered my request. “I’m not coming out,” he said at last. “But if you bring my shrimp and my Evian here and promise not to let that dog in, I shall consider sharing the celebratory meal with you in our private quarters. Privately.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. “Are you really not going to leave the room at all?”

He flicked his tail, waking a cloud of dust and pet hair that rose from the carpet in a sickening flurry. Wow, I really was not a good housekeeper.

If Octo-Cat noticed the filth, he didn’t seem to mind—not when he already had much bigger fish to fry. “Not until that interloper is gone,” he informed me with another hiss. “Need I remind you that this is MY house?”

“No, you needn’t.” It felt strange using Octo-Cat’s overly refined language, but he often listened better when I did. And right now, I needed him to understand that controlling Nan was every bit as difficult as trying to control him. Both were so stubborn about the things they wanted that we would have no choice but to find some kind of compromise to the Chihuahua situation.