The Nose Knows (16 page)

They were about to do “the dance.”

Cats do the dance much better than any dogs I know, especially the young cats.

Fancy raised a paw, and Sweetie moved back on his haunches. Fancy slowly batted his paw at Sweetie’s head. Sweetie moved to the right. Every move was in slow motion. Their eyes locked onto each other. Their ears flattened back. Their movements seemed choreographed and precise as if they both knew the next move. The slowness of the dance, the steady tail swishes, and the absence of growling told me this particular dance was starting out as a friendly standoff.

Fancy moved forward. Sweetie hunched down. Sweetie swatted at Fancy’s leg. Fancy batted the paw away. They remained in a locked stare. Fancy leaned in to bite Sweetie’s ear. Sweetie rolled onto his side. . . .

Then in a flash, some unspoken cue occurred and the chase was on. Fancy turned and ran, Sweetie in hot pursuit. Fancy ran halfway up a tree and clung there long enough, I guess, to admit surrender. Sweetie turned and walked away as if nothing had ever happened. The dance had ended.

I don’t know which one was the winner. Maybe it was a draw. They refuse to tell me the secret code. But unlike most humans, these two will lovingly groom each other tonight, and this particular dance will be forgotten.

Suddenly Mom bolted upright. “Hey, you guys, we can’t be lollygagging. We’ve got to start getting ready. We’ve friends coming for dinner.”

Jacob and Quincy were due in six hours.

I made good use of the time and gave the boys some etiquette lessons on how to meet a new dog. Mom would never know how much work I was putting into making this evening a success. But I love her, so it was worth it. It took longer than expected, though. I’d forgotten that all of the boys except Fancy, had been babies when they’d come into our house. I was the only dog they’d ever really spent time with, since Mom always kept the rescued dogs, like Willie, separated or crated. These boys had a lot to learn. Quincy was a great dog, but they could never expect any dog to be as patient as I am with them. I told them they’d better take pity on Quincy and cut him some slack. Plus they needed to know that other dogs do things a lot differently. For example, they should never expect
two
warning growls. Nor should they expect Quincy to tolerate any paws on his butt. And under no circumstances should they try to snatch food away from him. I had them fairly well trained in the food department, but it was still better to play it safe. Most dogs have an automatic reaction around food and Quincy had some very big teeth.

As it turned out, if I’d known how long it was going to take Mom to get everything ready, I could’ve napped a lot longer. First she tackled the house. A full-blown cleaning session was out of the question, so she settled on dusting, mopping, vacuuming, and taking the cat covers off all the furniture. Once she had the house in adequate shape, she tried on at least ten different outfits! When she got that settled, she went out back and pulled weeds from around the patio area. She focused on the immediate area where Jacob would be cooking and sitting. We all helped the best way we could. We stayed out of her way.

Don’t get the impression from what I’ve just said that the house and the yard were a mess. Not really. They both had an “au naturel” look. Mom works hard, and if it’s a choice between pulling weeds or taking me to the park then she certainly has her priorities straight—the park and I always win.

After the yard work, Mom was all sweaty and grungy. She smelled great to us. But as I have said before, what critters think is a sweet perfume, humans define as plain stinky. I guess Jacob would’ve agreed; anyway, she got into the tub. Even a human nose completely stuffed with a cold could’ve detected all the lavender oil she’d poured into the bath water. It was the first time she’d used that oil since Dad had gone over the bridge. Things smelled hopeful.

The salad was made, the wine was ready, and the table was set. Mom liked to get the work done before a guest arrived so she wasn’t all harried when they showed up. Of course, the glass of wine she was sipping on may have also helped. She was pretty calm.

Bobby and Sweetie waited at the front window. They were to alert us when our guests arrived. About twenty minutes later I heard their soft meows, but Mom didn’t notice. I gave her one of my muffled barks. Mom still jumps when there’s a knock at the door and counts on me to alert her that the doorbell is about to ring. I take my job seriously. Tonight was no exception.

“Thanks for the warning, Spunk. Now let’s go greet our guests.”

As per my instructions, the boys moved to higher ground until Quincy and I finished our meet-and-greet. Since we were both pretty wound up, I knew one of them could have been whacked off their feet by Quincy’s strong tail. But we both remembered our manners and quickly settled down.

“Come on, Quincy, I want to introduce you to the boys.”

Of course, Bobby and Fancy-Pants were the first to step up. I’d already warned Quincy about Bobby’s belief that cats rule so he didn’t take it as a challenge when Bobby walked up and butted him right in the leg. Thankfully, Quincy didn’t return the gesture. Given their size differences, he could’ve butted Bobby into the next room. Bobby, of course, was counting on my opinion that Quincy would be kind. Quincy didn’t let me down. Then Fancy swooshed himself up onto the coffee table. He sat right down. His fluffy tail swished from side to side. He looked Quincy right in the eye.

“Hey, you are a mighty big dog. A handsome one, too. Welcome to our home. They call me Fancy-Pants, but you can call me Fancy.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Fancy. Who’s that behind you?”

Sweetie, as usual, had chosen to stay in the background until he saw how things were going. But he certainly wasn’t about to let Fancy speak for him. He jumped up and plunked his bottom down.

“They call me Sweetie. But, sir, don’t let my name fool you; I can take care of myself just fine whenever necessary.”

“There won’t be reason on my account, Sweetie. I’m pleased to meet you too. But aren’t there supposed to be
four
cats?

“ We all looked around. No Fearless. I told the boys to keep Quincy entertained while I checked out the bedroom. Sure enough, Fearless was hiding under the bed.

“Hey Fearless, what’s the matter?”

“Sorry Spunk—I thought I’d be fine.—But when Jacob—
wheeze
—walked into the house—I panicked—
wheeze
—I’d heard—so many good—things about Jacob that—I thought it wouldn’t—happen this time.”

“Oh, Fearless, I’m the one who’s sorry. I was too caught up in the mission. I completely forgot about your problem. Please forgive me for forgetting.”

Jacob had come in wearing boots—heavy cowboy boots.

Fearless had made a lot of progress, but a man wearing boots, had come into our house. I’d seen the boots. I should’ve immediately helped Fearless. Usually we’re a lot more sensitive. Whenever a man comes in, one of us stands between the man and Fearless so he’ll feel safer. But this time we were so focused on our plan that we forgot.

“It isn’t your fault Spunk.—I should have said something.—It was my responsibility—not yours.— I’ll be all right in a minute.—Just go on back out and I’ll—slip into the room in a little bit. I am feeling much better now—Thanks for checking on me.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll send one of the boys in to check on you if I don’t see you out there pretty soon.”

I went back into the living room and quietly told them what had happened. Sweetie immediately went to check on Fearless. He couldn’t help himself. His compassion for Fearless was greater than his curiosity about Jacob.

When Quincy heard about Fearless he said he understood and would move real slow around him. However, his next comment riled me some. “Fearless, huh? Sure is an odd name for a scared little guy who’s hiding under a bed.”

I was compelled to enlighten him. “Listen, Quincy, don’t think Fearless is afraid of everything just because he happens to be under the bed. That would be a big mistake, my friend. Yes, he has panic attacks, but they are triggered by men in boots and fighting cats. That’s where his fear threshold ends. Look close; see this scar on my nose? Fearless put it there. He has absolutely no fear of dogs whatsoever. He’s one tough boy. So be polite. I’m warning you— it’s not wise to treat him like he’s a scaredy cat. He’ll make you regret it big-time.”

While I was in the bedroom, Mom had introduced the boys to Jacob. He was now sitting on the sofa with Bobby on his lap. Fancy was on the back of the couch licking Jacob’s ear. Jacob seemed to be enjoying both of them. Sweetie emerged from the bedroom. He said Fearless was much better and was grooming himself to look good for his entrance. Sweetie hopped up on the couch and added himself to Jacob’s lap.

“My, my, you two look alike, except of course for the back part. If I remember correctly, you two are brothers, right?”

Bobby looked up and squeezed his eyes shut once in agreement, while Sweetie turned on his purr motor.

“My goodness, Sweetie, you have a loud purr. Bobby, I don’t hear anything coming out of you—how come?”

Bobby again looked up, squeezed his eyes shut twice, and meowed in a highly aristocratic manner. “For your edification, Jacob, the purr amplifier is located in the tail. I’m obviously a little short in that department.”

We critters all burst out laughing. The humans only heard a sudden outburst of barking and meowing.

Then Fearless made his entrance. We all stopped laughing.

Even though Jacob didn’t have the gift, the next thing he did was mighty terrific. He stopped paying attention to everyone else. He gently moved Bobby and Sweetie off his lap. Very slowly, he slid down and sat on the floor.

Then in a soft and gentle voice he said, “Is that Fearless? Hi, Fearless. Don’t worry, boy, I won’t hurt you. Your mom here told me what happened to you as a baby. I’m so sorry some stupid man kicked you in the head.”

My mouth dropped open. How did Mom know Fearless had been kicked? Guess she has a secret or two of her own. Obviously, she still didn’t know about the boots, or Jacob would be wearing sneakers.

Jacob continued talking to Fearless. “You’re a handsome guy. A mighty big boy, too. Not one ounce of fat on you. You’re all muscle. Your coat is so shiny and you have the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. Do you want to come over and say hi?”

He extended his hand, palm up, and waited to see what Fearless would do. Fearless wasn’t ready to trust that much, but neither did he move away. He stayed where he was and sat down on his haunches, keeping his eyes fixed on Jacob. A certain dog I know might have taken that as rejection and made some stupid comment about Fearless’s lack of bravery.

Jacob did not.

“That’s okay boy, you just take your time. Whenever you’re ready, it’d be an honor to give you a pet, but I’ll leave it up to you when that should happen. Okay?”

There was no doubt about it. Every cat in the room now had proof. Jacob’s heart was not limited to merely dogs.

Fearless leaned forward and touched his nose to Jacob’s hand. Jacob had no way of knowing what a milestone that was.

Fearless then turned and walked straight up to Quincy. The big boy respectfully lay down. They were now eyeball-to-eyeball.

“Quincy, welcome to our home. It’s an honor to meet you—
breath—
but I must give you fair warning. You and I can be great pals—
breath
—just as long as you never—ever—do anything to hurt my family. I may be a little short on lung capacity—but I’m very proficient at letting my claws speak for me.—Do you promise to respect everyone in my family?”

Quincy lowered his head to his paws. “Yes, sir, I promise.”

Nice answer! Good thing too, since Quincy’s nose was much bigger than mine and made a tempting target.

T
wo hours later the phone rang. Luckily, I’d already gotten more than my fair share of Jacob’s steak. As it turned out Jacob was a good cook. He kept the meat nice and rare the way Mom and I both liked it. Just as importantly, I learned he was a sucker for the exact same begging strategy I’d used on Dad! Jacob was a pushover. This relationship was showing great promise.

Mom turned on the speakerphone. It was Mabel from the answering service.

“Dr. Richards, that patient of yours, Joyce Capello, just called. She left this message: ‘Tell Dr. Richards I killed Hank. I’ve been arrested. I only get one phone call and this is it. I’m in jail, downtown at the Fifty-Third Precinct. Would you ask the doc if she’d come here, since they won’t let me use the phone again. Thank you. Bye.’ That was all she said. Do you want me to read it again?”

“No, Mabel, I got it. How did she sound to you?”

“Doc, I’ve handled all kinds of calls for you, even hysterical patients, but this one gave me the chills. This lady was way too calm. Sounded like she was in some kind of a trance. She didn’t sound upset at all. She didn’t sound upset that she’d been arrested. She didn’t even sound upset that she’d killed somebody! I’m telling you, it gave me the creeps!”

Mom told Mabel she’d call the precinct right away. In the meantime, if she received any other calls about Joyce she should patch them through immediately to her cell phone.