like a banshee. He’d been expressing his extreme displeasure ever since she’d delivered him to the kitchen of The Cookie Jar and placed him in the crate Eleanor Cox had provided for the week. The crate was large and roomy. Eleanor rescued huskies and malamutes, and these homes away from home were designed to accommodate large-breed dogs. It had a nice, soft pad on the bottom and Moishe had plenty of space to stroll around. Hannah had equipped it with his food and water bowls, his litter box, and even the feather pillow he loved so much at home. Despite all these comforts, Moishe was not a happy cat and he wasn’t one to hide his emotions.
Hannah had wracked her brain and tried every trick she could think of to make her pet feel at home. She’d turned the crate so that Moishe could see them working, and put music on the radio so that he wouldn’t feel deprived. She’d gone over to reach through the grating and pet him every few minutes, and she’d even resorted to bribing him with a fresh pot of catnip that Lisa had grown in her greenhouse. Nothing had worked. It was clear that Moishe would complain until he lost his voice and then heaven knew what he’d do!
“Six,” Hannah said, shaking her head as her usually accommodating feline roommate tipped over his bowl of water. “But who’s counting?” She glanced over at her partner, who was smiling despite the fact that Moishe was vocalizing, and that was putting it nicely, at the top of his lungs. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”
“Excuse me?” Lisa asked, frowning slightly. “I didn’t hear you, Hannah.”
It was little wonder, Hannah thought, shaking her head. Just like the teens who listened to music blaring from their earphones, Lisa had probably experienced what Hannah hoped would be a temporary hearing loss. “I said,” Hannah got set to repeat herself in a much louder voice. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”
“Oh, gosh! Sorry!” Lisa apologized as she reached up with both hands to pull two small, bright orange objects from her ears.
“You’re wearing ear plugs?”
“Yes. I got them from Herb. They’re the kind we use when we go cowboy shooting.”
Hannah laughed. It amused her every time Lisa referred to cowboy shooting. It sounded as if her partner went out to shoot cowboys, but the only things Lisa and Herb had in their sights were steel targets. Cowboy shooting was a sport with stages that replicated Wild West settings. Everyone wore period clothing and participants were judged on their speed and accuracy using replicas of guns that had been available during the period.
“I know, we don’t actually shoot cowboys,” Lisa correctly interpreted Hannah’s laugh, “but that’s what everyone calls it. When I told Herb that you were bringing Moishe down here and keeping him in a crate so he’d be handy when they needed him for a scene, he figured I’d need earplugs.”
Moishe gave another deafening yowl and both Hannah and Lisa reached up to cover their ears. When the sound stopped, Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another pair of those?”
“I was a Girl Scout. I come prepared.” Lisa reached into her apron pocket and handed Hannah a new pair of earplugs. “Just roll them around in your hands for a few seconds to compress them, and then push them in your ears. They’ll expand to fit.”
Hannah did what her partner advised and soon both women were working in relative peace. Moishe’s yowls, although every bit as loud as they’d been before, had faded by the grace of the bright orange barriers to fit into their auditory comfort zone.
Once nine o’clock approached, Hannah went to the cooler to retrieve the cheesecake she’d baked after Ross had left the previous evening. “I’m going to run over to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer to deliver this,” she told Lisa. “Have some coffee and relax. We don’t open for another hour.”
“Do you think
Hannah had wracked her brain and tried every trick she could think of to make her pet feel at home. She’d turned the crate so that Moishe could see them working, and put music on the radio so that he wouldn’t feel deprived. She’d gone over to reach through the grating and pet him every few minutes, and she’d even resorted to bribing him with a fresh pot of catnip that Lisa had grown in her greenhouse. Nothing had worked. It was clear that Moishe would complain until he lost his voice and then heaven knew what he’d do!
“Six,” Hannah said, shaking her head as her usually accommodating feline roommate tipped over his bowl of water. “But who’s counting?” She glanced over at her partner, who was smiling despite the fact that Moishe was vocalizing, and that was putting it nicely, at the top of his lungs. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”
“Excuse me?” Lisa asked, frowning slightly. “I didn’t hear you, Hannah.”
It was little wonder, Hannah thought, shaking her head. Just like the teens who listened to music blaring from their earphones, Lisa had probably experienced what Hannah hoped would be a temporary hearing loss. “I said,” Hannah got set to repeat herself in a much louder voice. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”
“Oh, gosh! Sorry!” Lisa apologized as she reached up with both hands to pull two small, bright orange objects from her ears.
“You’re wearing ear plugs?”
“Yes. I got them from Herb. They’re the kind we use when we go cowboy shooting.”
Hannah laughed. It amused her every time Lisa referred to cowboy shooting. It sounded as if her partner went out to shoot cowboys, but the only things Lisa and Herb had in their sights were steel targets. Cowboy shooting was a sport with stages that replicated Wild West settings. Everyone wore period clothing and participants were judged on their speed and accuracy using replicas of guns that had been available during the period.
“I know, we don’t actually shoot cowboys,” Lisa correctly interpreted Hannah’s laugh, “but that’s what everyone calls it. When I told Herb that you were bringing Moishe down here and keeping him in a crate so he’d be handy when they needed him for a scene, he figured I’d need earplugs.”
Moishe gave another deafening yowl and both Hannah and Lisa reached up to cover their ears. When the sound stopped, Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another pair of those?”
“I was a Girl Scout. I come prepared.” Lisa reached into her apron pocket and handed Hannah a new pair of earplugs. “Just roll them around in your hands for a few seconds to compress them, and then push them in your ears. They’ll expand to fit.”
Hannah did what her partner advised and soon both women were working in relative peace. Moishe’s yowls, although every bit as loud as they’d been before, had faded by the grace of the bright orange barriers to fit into their auditory comfort zone.
Once nine o’clock approached, Hannah went to the cooler to retrieve the cheesecake she’d baked after Ross had left the previous evening. “I’m going to run over to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer to deliver this,” she told Lisa. “Have some coffee and relax. We don’t open for another hour.”
“Do you think
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