Chihuahua Conspiracy

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.

I sighed again. “However, given your stance, it would probably be best if I brought your litter box up here as well. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

After pushing myself back into a standing position, I left my tower bedroom, careful to latch the door fully behind me. As much as I didn’t want to trap Octo-Cat inside, I was also incredibly worried about what might happen to Paisley if she nosed her way in there. She was half his size at most and clearly didn’t have an aggressive bone in her whole body.

My cat on the other hand?

He had a whole skeleton’s worth.

I found Nan in the kitchen setting out a pair of dog bone-printed ceramic bowls for Paisley in a spot just to the left of the pantry. “Sorry about Octo-Cat,” I muttered, ignoring the fact that he would be upset that the dog’s bowls were so near his stash of Fancy Feast.

“That cat was mean,” the Chihuahua whined as she rubbed at the fresh claw wound on her nose.

“He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just difficult sometimes,” I offered with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

The little dog jumped up and pawed frantically at my leg, wiggling her whole body as she cried, “Hey! Hey! Hey! Did you just talk? Do you know how to talk? You’re a very good, very smart girl!”

I bent down and scooped her up, and Paisley immediately set to licking my face as if it were covered in gravy or bacon grease or some other irresistible treat. “Yes, I can talk to both animals and people,” I explained. “I don’t know why, though. It’s kind of just the way things are. Would it be okay if I talked to you?”

Paisley wagged her tail so hard her entire body shook, then she broke apart into a shivering fit. Whether she needed a sweater or some anti-anxiety medicine, I couldn’t say for sure. The shivering continued as she jumped into an excited monologue. “I’ve always wanted my own humans, and now I even have one that talks! The other dogs back at the shelter won’t believe it! When are they coming for a visit? Or, oh! Maybe they could move in with us, too. This house is plenty big, and there are lots of dogs that need homes.”

I laughed at her enthusiasm, even though her reminder of all the homeless pets that had remained behind following Nan’s impromptu adoption of Paisley made my heart feel heavy. “I’m sorry, Paisley. I wish I could adopt all your friends, but I already made a promise to take care of my cat the best I can, and he would be very upset if we filled our house up with dogs.”

As soon as I set Paisley back on the floor, she curled up against my foot and pouted. “He’s a very mean kitty.”

“Yeah, he kind of is, but he’ll grow on you, I promise. And I bet you’ll grow on him, too. He just needs time to get used to having you here. It’s a very big change.”

“It’s a big change for me, too.” The little dog ran in a circle to indicate the giant manor in which she now lived. “At the shelter I had to share a cage with two other dogs. It was very crowded. That’s why I thought we could give some of the others a home, too.”

Three to a cage?

I hadn’t spent much time at the local animal shelter, but from what I remembered, we’d never had an overcrowding problem in the past. Maybe things had just been a bit different for Paisley than the others due to her extremely small size.

I already felt guilty about not being able to adopt more animals. Thinking of them now all cramped together made me feel that much worse. Maybe a few volunteer shifts or a small donation were in order, both to help them out of a potentially tough spot and to ease my guilty conscience.

“Hey,” I said, crouching down so that Paisley and I were at closer to the same level. “How would you like to visit the shelter with me tomorrow? You can say hi to your friends, and I’ll see if there’s anything we can do to help them find new homes.”

Paisley let out a high-pitched cry and began to shake furiously once again. “You’re not making me go back. Are you?” the dog yelped. “Because Nan said this is my home now.”

This poor thing. No wonder Nan had been charmed enough to bring her home.

“Oh, sweetie. I promise I wouldn’t do that to you. Nan’s right. This is your home now, and nothing’s going to change that.”

Paisley stood on her hind legs and reached her paws up my leg. “I love you, new mommy,” she said. “This is the best day of my entire life.”

My heart swelled at the Chihuahua’s confession of love. It had taken me almost dying at the hands of a gun-toting psychopath to get Octo-Cat to even admit he liked me. Yet Paisley had only needed a single short conversation to forge the deepest of bonds. As much as I adored my Octo-Cat, it sure felt nice to be appreciated rather than insulted.

Hmmm. Maybe I’m not as much of a cat person as I once thought.

Of course, I immediately felt guilty for thinking that even in passing. It was our petaversary, after all, and I’d promised my feline overlord freshly grilled shrimp by way of celebration.

It was time to leave Nan and Paisley to celebrate their own adoption day together while I did my best to ease the poor, put-out kitty that sat waiting for me in my bedroom tower.

I closed my eyes tight and wished that one day we could all be one big happy family. I didn’t have a candle to blow out and it wasn’t anyone’s birthday, but I hoped the special wish magic I’d grown up believing in could save us now.

Honestly, we were going to need a miracle to get my stubborn cat to change his heart when it came to the poor, shivering dog that needed us.

Just in case, I said a quick prayer, too.

One way or another, we would find a way to all live peacefully together.

After all, we didn’t have any other option.