Wrapped Up in Crosswords by Nero Blanc Page B

dog do with a tree?”
    â€œI can only imagine.” Rosco then nodded thoughtfully. “And how, may I ask, were you intending on separating Winston’s, or rather Bartholomew’s, gift bones from my bones—the ones I might find edible?”
    â€œI hadn’t gotten that far yet,” Belle admitted.
    This time it was Rosco who chortled. “That’s one of my favorite things about you … dining is always an adventure.” He gave her another tender kiss, but the loving moment was interrupted by the arrival of Kit, who jumped up and placed her white forepaws defiantly on the kitchen counter and then leveled a solemn gaze upon Rosco and Belle. The dog’s black and brown muzzle was covered with white feathers; there were more stuck to the top of her head and a few pasted wetly above each eye, where they gave the impression of bushy eyebrows.
    Belle gasped; she tried not to smile. “You don’t suppose she’s trying to emulate your Santa wig and beard, do you?”
    The woof that greeted this comment was clearly one of disdain. Even the humans couldn’t mistake its intent.
    â€œI thought she’d outgrown her puppy chewing stage,” Rosco observed.
    â€œSeems more like payback time to me,” was Belle’s resigned response. “Maybe she’s mad because Gabby had all the adventures today.”
    â€œOr perhaps she’s annoyed at you for cooking up a batch of treats for another dog?”
    â€œBut I’m planning to make more for their—”
    Kit interrupted by woofing briskly again; then she charged into the living room with Belle and Rosco on her heels. There, a scene of almost comical destruction greeted the humans. Feathers clung to every object as if purposely attached with glue: A lamp shade was speckled with small plumes of white; the couch and chair looked as though they were about to sprout wings; the hooked rug had an unusual downy finish; even the ceiling was daubed with snow-colored tufts.
    â€œThis can’t be the result of tearing apart a single pillow,” Belle said, while Rosco’s sole comment was a scientific:
    â€œTalk about a lot of static electricity. It’s amazing; the feathers are almost perfectly spaced throughout the room. How’d she do that?”
    Kit barked in annoyance again, then raced upstairs and flew back down again, a fresh and as yet undefiled pillow clenched in her jaws.
    â€œKitty, no! Bad girl! Give me that,” Belle ordered, but Rosco had begun to laugh.
    â€œI’d say you’re going to need to make Kit’s days a heck of a lot more entertaining when Gabby spends her time with me. Maybe the sedentary life of a crossword editor—”
    â€œRosco! This isn’t funny!”
    â€œActually, it is pretty comical. Look at this room. It’s like the inside of a chicken coop.”
    But Belle remained unamused. “This is a serious regression on Kit’s part. Remember my beautiful red shoes—”
    He corrected her. “ Shoe, not shoes. It was only one red shoe. As I recall, she only liked to munch on a single piece of your footwear at a time.”
    Belle frowned as she removed the pillow from Kit’s mouth. “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her.”
    But Rosco was still chuckling. “Maybe she’s trying to tell us she’d like a couple of little feathered pals. Is that it, Kitty? Is all this work supposed to be your idea of a message? Are you really a bird dog in disguise?”
    Kit’s irate and incredulous yap in response to this obviously fatuous query immediately brought Gabby, who sauntered down the stairs with her own contribution to the cause dangling from her mouth.
    Belle shook her head. “And this one’s taken to chewing paper …”
    Rosco ceased his chortling in a trice. “Where did you find that, Gab?” He reached down to retrieve the wet and mangled sheet of paper, and his