the Cocker Spaniel Caper
A Happy Paws Mystery, Book One
Opening a doggie daycare has been a dream. I get to spend my days with all my furry friends, and the antics never stop.
But when Gustave, a feisty cocker spaniel, was dognapped, everything I had worked for was on the line.
When word gets out about Gustave, no one will trust me with their furbabies ever again. Can I find out who stole Gustave before I lose everything?
Chapter One
Many dog parents are a little apprehensive the first time they bring their furry babies to daycare, and Phoebe Woodley was no exception. She didn’t have to tell me she was nervous—by the way she tightly gripped her dog’s leash and bit her lip, I could tell.
“Who’s this little fellow?” I asked, kneeling to pet the little tan cocker spaniel, whose wagging tail and excited expression showed he didn’t share his mother’s separation anxiety.
“This is Gustave,” Phoebe said. “My little baby.”
“Hello, Gustave,” I said, rubbing my hands around his head. “Welcome to Happy Paws!”
He jumped on me, putting his two front paws on my leg, and tried to lick my face.
“Friendly little fellow,” I said, laughing and trying to avoid getting drenched with dog affection. “How old is he?”
“He’s six. I’ve had him since he was a puppy.”
I stood up and told her Gustave would be fine and perfectly happy during his visit. “I’m sure he’ll make several new friends today,” I said.
Phoebe seemed to study me for a moment before she asked me for assurances that her little dog would be well looked after. “Gustave goes with me almost everywhere I go,” she explained. “I really don’t like leaving him alone.”
“We treat all our furry visitors like family,” I replied. “I know he’s your little baby and how much you love him!”
She smiled. I was glad she seemed to relax a little bit about leaving little Gustave in our care.
“This is your first time at Happy Paws, I take it,” I said as I started the process of checking her dog in.
“It is.”
“What brings you here today?”
“I own a gallery,” she said. “You might have heard of it. Woodley Fine Art.
“I’ve heard of it, but I’m afraid I’ve never been in.”
I couldn’t tell if her smile was genuine or judgmental.
“I’m visiting an exciting new artist in Taos today, and he’s deathly allergic to dogs,” she continued. She looked down at Gustave and sighed. “That’s why my little darling can’t be with me today.”
Gustave seemed indifferent to Phoebe’s anxiety. Hearing the dogs barking in the play area, he seemed more interested in joining in the fun than in his owner’s guilt.
Phoebe looked the part of a Santa Fe gallery owner. Her outfit was impeccably curated to look expensively casual, from her red designer cowboy boots to her brightly patterned skirt, silk wrap and jewelry, and layers of pricey Southwestern bling and diamond jewelry.
“Gustave will have a wonderful time with us,” I reassured her. “Don’t worry about a thing.” I handed her one of our business cards. “If you log on to this website, you can click on our doggie cams,” I explained. “You can watch him play and make new friends.”
Phoebe ran her finger across her chin, and after a brief pause, she smiled again and said, “Do you have cameras everywhere?”
“Just in the play areas—except one of the cameras in the indoor play area needs to be replaced, so that feed is blank. But all the dogs move around enough, so you’ll be able to watch your little boy play.”
“That sounds nice,” she replied, “but I’m afraid I’ll be too busy today to stare at webcams.”
“I understand. But just in case you want to peek in from time to time.”
She put the card in her pocket.
“When will you be picking Gustave up?” I asked.
“I should be back before four. I’ll call you if it’s going to be later.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you this afternoon, then. And don’t think twice about Gustave. He’s going to have a great time today.”
“I’m sure he will,” she said.
Espi, my twenty-two-year-old helper, took Gustave back to the play area while I finished with Phoebe. “What a good boy,” Espi exclaimed as Gustave followed her to the door leading to the back room. For a dog who was always at his mom’s side, he didn’t seem to have any reservations about following Espi to be with the other dogs.
The rest of that morning was typical for a Monday, a rush of check-ins before our doggie mothers and fathers went off to work. When the rush subsided, I went back to the outdoor play area where I was grateful to see my prediction about Gustave was true. He romped around with four other dogs—a husky, a black Lab, a boxer, and a Welsh terrier—each of them taking turns chasing the others.
Gustave saw me and bounded towards me, inspiring his four new friends to do the same.
“I told your mom you weren’t going to have a problem meeting new friends,” I said, chuckling at how the five dogs were competing for my attention. There hadn’t been a single day at the Happy Paws Doggie Daycare when I wasn’t filled with joy and gratitude. After years of waiting tables and working for someone else, spending my days in furry company always made my heart sing.
The five dogs quickly lost interest in me, likely because I didn’t have any treats, and frolicked off like a band of carefree five-year-olds.
My mind wandered, thinking about my date with Dylan when he got back from his backpacking trip later that week. For the previous several weeks, he and I had been talking about trying the Tulip, a new fusion restaurant that had been getting some good reviews. As much as I enjoyed being around the dogs, I was looking forward to an elegant evening out, wearing clothes that weren’t decorated with tufts of fur. Dylan even promised me he would dress in something other than cargo shorts and a T-shirt.
“Good morning, Lisa!” Carlos’ greeting snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Good morning, Carlos. How was your class this morning? Was it your world literature class?”
One of my employees who helps corral and take care of the dogs, Carlos was in his first-year studies at the university, hoping to one day become a veterinarian. He stood taller than anyone else at Happy Paws and had a slender build that made his clothes seem to drape over his frame. He was a good-looking young man who took pride in his appearance—clean-shaven, without a strand of hair out of place.
He nodded and said, “It was good. We’ve been reading an epic poem called The Knight in the Panther Skin.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I admitted.
“Neither had I,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a story of love, friendship, and heroism.”
“Sounds interesting.”
Carlos was one of the most unusual eighteen-year-olds I had ever met—a young man who was deeply interested in so many fields. He was quiet and introspective, often lost in a book in his free time. He was also quite an accomplished musician, playing beautiful classical guitar.
He asked me how everything was going that morning.
“The usual,” I replied. “Do you want to help me check the water bowls?”
“Of course,” he said cheerfully.
After we finished making the rounds, refilling all the water bowls and topping up the food dishes, I sat in the office and ate my lunch, leftover pasta from my solo dinner at home the night before.
There were times I was tempted to go out to eat at lunchtime, but after a morning of being around dogs, I had a collection of fur on my clothes that ensured I would stick out like a banana at a barbecue if I went anyplace nice.
As I ate, a voice filled the hallway outside of the office, singing “De Colores.”
Y por eso los grandes amores
De muchos colores me gustan a mí.
It was one of Tammy’s favorite songs, and she habitually sang it when she was working or lost in her thoughts.
“How are you doing today?” I asked when she came into the office.
“On top of the world like usual,” she replied, swinging her hips from the folk song still playing in her head.
“Did you and June have a good date night last night?” I asked.
“Always do.” She winked. “We saw that new movie. The one with the spaceships and the guy. Then we went out and had a late dinner at L’étoile.”
“The French restaurant?” I asked.
“Oui,” she replied with a grin. “And I had snails.”
“I think I’d pass,” I joked. “In my mind, slug and dinner are two words that shouldn’t go together.”
“You know me,” she said. “I’ll try anything once.”
“Were they good?”
“If I didn’t think about what I was eating,” she laughed. “Very garlicky.”
“I’d still pass. I’d rather have garlic on pizza.” I looked at my watch and realized it was later than I realized. “I better go to the bank before the lunch rush,” I said. “I might run by the office supply store on the way back and get more computer paper and toner.”
“Take your time,” she replied. “I’ll be here.”
As I ran my errands, the thought of Tammy eating snails kept popping back into my brain. I was certain her partner, June, put her up to it as she was the more adventurous when it came to food. Left on her own, Tammy would be quite content with a diet of steaks, potatoes, and the occasional side of broccoli.
I also knew that Tammy would, for the next several days, tell everyone she ran into that she tried snails for dinner. It’s the way she was.
As I filled out the paperwork for the bank deposit, a warm feeling of joy came over me. It had been a good year. More and more people were bringing their fur babies to Happy Paws, and the deposits were slowly but steadily increasing. If the trajectory continued, I would be able to move the daycare to a larger building and offer more services.
Life was good.
The rest of the afternoon was normal for Happy Paws, and the dogs busied themselves with playtime and naps.
Phoebe came back a few minutes before four to pick up Gustave. I asked Carlos to bring him from the play area. “He made quite a few friends today,” I said. “I suspect as hard as he was playing with the other dogs, he’ll probably sleep for the rest of the evening. A tired dog is a well-behaved dog.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Phoebe said dryly.
“Did you have a good visit with the young artist?” I asked.
“I did,” she replied. “He has such a vision and so many important things to say with his work. I wanted to get him in my gallery before anyone else snatches him up.”
“Were you successful?”
“I think so,” she said with a sly smile.
As we waited for Carlos to bring Gustave, Jessica Miller came in to pick up Leo, her border collie mix.
“You’re early,” I said. Jessica was an attorney in a small practice and was often the last one of the day to pick up her dog.
“Happily so,” she said. “I’m treating myself to a well-deserved quiet and relaxing evening.”
“That sounds lovely,” I said, thinking about my upcoming date with Dylan.
I paged the play area, telling Espi to bring Leo to the front.
Leo always knew when his mom was there to pick him up. Whenever he heard her car outside, he would emit a high-pitched whine, which would eventually turn into euphoric barks that echoed through the indoor play area.
“Here you go, Mrs. Miller,” Espi said as she passed the hoop of the leash to Jessica.
“See you tomorrow?” I asked as Jessica led Leo toward the front door.
“Same time,” she responded as the rambunctious dog excitedly pulled toward the door.
Phoebe looked at me, not saying a word, as if she were silently trying to hint that she was in a hurry.
“I wonder what’s taking Carlos so long,” I said to her after Jessica left.
I had just spoken the words when Carlos opened the door to the front lobby—without a dog.
“I can’t find Gustave,” he said, his face pale. “He’s gone.”