“I don’t think he’s homeless, but I do think he’s lost. He isn’t exactly little, either.”
“Awww. Well, you were sweet to help him.”
“I’m going to try to find his owner. But if I don’t, would you like to have him? He seems to be a really nice animal.”
Mrs. Arnold pressed her palms against her cheeks, the multiple diamond rings on her fingers glittering under the fluorescent lighting. “Oh, my Lord, honey, I couldn’t. My husband thinks four dogs and twenty cats are enough. Three of our doggies are Labs, you know. We’ve given one whole bedroom to them.”
She leaned closer to Sandi and spoke in a whisper. “I don’t tell just anyone, but the kitties have taken over the pool house, which upset my husband terribly. When he tells people he spends his weekends herding cats, they think he’s crazy.”
Instantly, Sandi thought of Jake, her African Grey parrot. She’d had to give him his own bedroom. Well, actually, Jake’s room was the spare bedroom she had used for her office. So now, she conducted LaBarkery’s clerical chores at her kitchen table and kept her files in the dining room. Beyond taking over her house, the bird had taken over her life and she sometimes found herself having conversations with him and following his advice.
He had been added to her little throng a few months back. As a registered foster parent at We Love Animals, she often got a call when they had a hard-to-place resident. Having spent some time—maybe his whole life—in a biker sports bar, he had come to her with a colorful vocabulary. He was so smart that after living with him for a few weeks, Sandi wondered if he had cognitive abilities. And after doing some research on African Greys, she was convinced he did.
“I know what you mean,” Sandi said. “Mention him to your friends if you don’t mind. Maybe someone might need a dog that’s already trained.”
“I certainly will,” Mrs. Arnold said, “and I’ll put a note on the bulletin board at church.”
Sandi stepped behind the counter, quickly washed her hands and turned back to her customer. “Well, what can I get for your babies today? I’ve got lots of Energizer, made fresh this morning.”
“Hmm. I still have plenty. I’ll save that for later. I haven’t treated everyone to Bare Paws in a couple of months. Let me have a dozen of those and a dozen of those cute little mice for the kitties.”
Sandi reached inside her display case, removed a dozen Bare Paws from their paper containers. “Did you say a dozen of the Mousekins also?”
“I’ll tell you what. Make that two dozen. The kitties come and go, but I want to be sure I have enough for everyone to have one.”
Sandy counted out twenty-four little oval salmon cakes she decorated to look like pink mice with big white-and-black eyes and black noses. She carefully placed all of the treats in two bakery boxes that bore a LaBarkery logo.
“Oh, and let me have one of your birthday cakes. Mikey, my youngest is turning two. We’re having a little party with six of his friends.”
Sandy gave Mrs. Arnold a wide smile. “Oh, how cool.”
She sidled along the long display case and lifted out one of her two-layer cakes filled with beef, chicken and vegetables and frosted with nutritious frosting that looked like chocolate. “Would you like the candles? They’re really beef sticks, you know.”
“Oh, by all means. Nothing’s too good for Mikey. But two won’t be enough. You’d better give me seven candles so everyone can have one.”
“Coming right up.” The corners of Sandi’s mouth tipping up with another huge smile, she plucked seven doggie treats she had molded to look like birthday candles out of her display case and bagged them.
She packaged the cake in a fancy cardboard box worthy of a human gourmet bakery, handed it and the boxes of goodies across the counter to Mrs. Arnold and collected $158.76.
“Thank you, dear,” the woman said. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Arnold and don’t forget to spread the word about the dog I found.”
Another happy customer strolled out the door, leaving Sandi humming. Yes, indeedy. 48-million Americans might be on food stamps, California might be out of water, Colorado might be going up in wacky-backy smoke, but tonight, in Midland, Texas, a pooch named Mikey was having a birthday party with six canine friends all chomping happily on birthday cake and candles made of healthy homemade dog food.
And for that, Sandi was ecstatic.
As she wiped the front of her display case, her mind spun backward to the beginning of LaBarkery and its exclusive pet treats that looked like fine gourmet bakery wares. Just four years ago, she had held a good job in a Midland bank where she had gone to work right out of college. On a fast track, she had moved up to a low-level vice-president and loan officer and was in line for another promotion when a mega-bank bought her employer and laid off more than half the staff, including her.
Sandi hadn’t loved that job, but she had been good at it. Interacting with people—the bank’s customers—seemed to be what she was meant to do, not to mention the bank paid her well and offered great benefits.
Though disappointed by being laid off, she took it in her stride because she was one of the lucky ones. At home she had a loving man who had a good job with an oil company and who supported her in all things. She would simply stay at home, tie on her apron, clean her house to spotless perfection and have elegant meals waiting for him when he came home in the evening. After feasting on her mouthwatering cuisine and washing it down with fine wine, she would slip into her sexy black nightie and allow the rest of the evening to take its course.
She hadn’t even finished her unemployment application before Ken Coffman
