Retriever Ransom

Chapter Two

I sat in the enormous bay window of my home library sipping an oversized mug of English breakfast tea while watching the snow swirl past.

Octo-Cat sat at my feet flicking his tail back and forth to the tuneless hum of our mostly silent house. “You wouldn’t catch me dead in that mess.”

I lowered my mug and cuddled deeper into the woven afghan wrapped around my shoulders. “What? The snow?”

He scoffed at my apparent naivete. “Snow, yeah. You can’t fool me. It’s nothing but semi-solid water. No, thank you.”

“You know…” A smile crept across my face as I waited for him to turn toward me. “Maine Coons supposedly love water, and you are part Maine Coon, right?”

He always claimed to be, but we both knew that was a lie.

Octo-Cat’s eyes slitted and his tail stilled. “Yes,” he answered slowly, cautiously. “But I’m also part tabby. Tabbies don’t like the water.”

“Of course.” I took another sip of tea to prevent a chuckle from escaping. Far be it from me to point out that Tabby was a coloration and not a breed. Everything Octavius said had to be taken at face value, lest we upset him.

He’d also gone to the Holiday Spectacular last month when the ground was covered in fresh snowfall and hadn’t complained too much—at least not for him. It seemed we’d now crossed the acceptable level of snow since then. Either that or he was passing judgment on my less than stellar job keeping up with the shoveling.

Light clacking sounded on the floorboards, and a moment later Paisley appeared, tail wagging in its usual dark blur. “Hello, Mommy. Can I cuddle, too?”

Octo-Cat groaned and rolled his eyes when the Chihuahua jumped onto my lap.

“I wanted to say hi before Nan and I go on our run. Hi!”

I gaped down at her. “You’re running in this?” The snow had to be twice as deep as she was tall.

She blinked wide eyes at me, confused by this question. “Why, yes. We run every day, come heck or high water.”

“Water,” Octo-Cat emphasized with a pointed flick of his tail. “Told you it was water.”

Nan and Paisley had started their recreational running hobby on January first and had kept up with it every day since. That was my grandmother for you. She always had a number of hobbies going, usually at least one that was artistic and one fitness based. Often many more than that, too.

This month’s commitment to running, however, seemed to be more about me than about herself. I often pointed out the fact my seventy-something Nan was in far better shape than twenty-something me, and that had become incredibly evident last month when we ran around downtown Glendale chasing killers, kidnappers, and more.

Apparently, I’d complained a bit too loudly and too often, because now Nan invited me to join her every single day—and I said “no” every single day.

Did she really think I’d be up for starting a new exercise regimen at the height of the cold season? Nope. No, thank you.

Sure enough, my worst fears were answered when Nan appeared about five minutes later. She was wearing a hot pink velour tracksuit and held a leopard print coat with a fur collar draped over one arm. “C’mon, we’ve got to get going a little early today. I have a quick stop-off to make before we hit the trail.”

I doubted there was a trail, unless she’d woken up early to shovel one herself. A giant yawn pushed its way out from my chest as a massive shiver racked through my body. “You and Paisley have fun out there!”

“Oh, no. Today you’re coming too,” Nan insisted, reaching for my hand and attempting to pull me from my seat.

I ripped away as if she’d scalded me with her soft touch. “Ha, ha. Nice try. Today’s answer is the same as it’s been every other day you’ve asked me. Octo-Cat and I will hold down the fort here. See you when you’re back.”

“Nope. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.” She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze threateningly.

“Why not? You’ve taken it every other day.” I was pushing my luck and I knew it.

She motioned toward the galactic space cats calendar that hung on the wall above my desk, then groaned and marched over to it. Flipping the page up, she pointed to a calico kitten flying through the stars in a giant cartoon taco shell. “It’s the first day of a new month. February.”

I stayed silent, accepting that the more I argued the harder she’d come down on me in the end.

Nan, however, refused to be dismissed. “You may have completely flubbed up January, but a new month means a new start.”

“Can I maybe start in a warmer month?” I glanced out the window again. Everything was white—the ground, the sky, my reflection as all the color drained from my face in fear. She meant it this time.

I was doomed, but I still had to give my resistance one last ill-fated shot. “I don’t have anything to run in,” I complained and forced a sad look.

“Ahh, but you do.” A giant smile lit Nan’s face. “You’ll find a new jogging suit that matches mine exactly. I also picked up some sport boots and thick wool socks. Everything’s waiting for you in your room. Chop, chop. Like I said, we have a quick stop-off to make before hitting the trail.”

Not even cute corn shell taco cats in outer space could save me now. I lifted my eyes to meet her, telepathically pleading for her to have some mercy.

It did not work.

“Five minutes,” she said firmly and then began tapping her foot, already beyond the limits of her patience with me. “Then I’m dragging you outside, whether or not you’re ready.”

We both knew she’d push me butt naked into the snow if I took even a second longer. We also both knew that she was the stronger of the two of us.

I raced out of the library and up to my tower bedroom to get ready. Octo-Cat’s smug laughter followed me every step of the way.