THE WITCH AND THE TEA PARTY (A Rachael Penzra Mystery) Read Online Free

have all the animals you plan on adjusting to the new surroundings at the same time, so none of them is jealous of a newcomer.” Our salesman (his smirk barely hidden) assured us. I had a feeling that the story was being invented as he went along. No doubt the man was used to having people change their minds about getting more pets. It made sense on both sides.
    There were kittens. Sigh. Not that I was interested. Only a monster would bring a helpless kitten home to a household that Aunt Myrtle’s cat Alexander tyrannized. They were awfully cute, though, and of course we ended up with two litter mates. A good idea, our now visibly cocky guide told us. Company for each other when no one was home. The kittens were a soft gray and a calico, thought to be male and female and would have to be brought to a vet to be fixed soon.
    I swear I didn’t mean to look at any more animals as we treaded our way to the office. I think it was the jerkiness of the little dog’s gait that caught my eye. I looked. Bad move. The animal was small, a grayish brindle, and it was missing a front leg. It hobbled happily up to the front of the cage, apparently thinking we were coming just to see it. It wiggled so hard it fell over sideways.
    “Oh!” I gulped.
    The attendant choked on his discussion with David about the care and feeding of his new pets and launched quickly into a sales pitch to me. “Poor little gal,” he shook his head dolefully. “Not much of a life so far. She was part of a puppy mill and her leg got hurt and so badly infected that by the time she was brought here it was too late to save it. If we hadn’t had a special fund for just such an emergency, we would have put her down right away. The fund was left by a woman who had a three-legged dog. When she found out that animals desperately needing expensive and extensive care are usually disposed of immediately by poor shelters like ours, she decided to use some of her fortune to save a few.”
    I’d stooped and was petting the little dog by that time. She was, it turned out, only about six months old and probably a cross-bred of small terrier and shih tsu. Or not. She was a designer dog, a fancy name for mongrel. Bred for cuteness, usually cross breeds, they are quite popular nowadays. And she was cute. A little odd-looking, but cute.
    And so we left the shelter with three dogs and two kittens.
    It was embarrassing.
    David was absolutely thrilled with his acquisitions. The big dog had trotted along on a leash quite happily. The mottled one had to be picked up and carried out, but didn’t seem to be aggressive, more like she expected life to do what it wanted with her. I wondered what she would turn out to be like, and what would happen if she didn’t manage to adjust. I was pretty sure that if she didn’t, David would keep her anyway and work around her problems.
    The puppy went into a cardboard carrying case, as did the kittens. The two older dogs sat quietly in the backseat. We had used my SUV rather than David’s truck, fortunately as it turned out. We were rather quiet as we rode along. His silence felt comfortable, someone making happy plans and seeing delightful vistas ahead. Mine was a bit more stressful. Among other potential problems, I was going to be stuck with admitting to my own reckless impulsiveness, something I often lectured my aunt about. I needed a good story and I needed one fast.
    I dropped David off at his place, wishing him the best of luck and telling him to call me and let me know how things were working out. I’d have liked to stay, but I thought it best to get the puppy home without causing her any extra stress.
    Of course paying the cost of getting the little creature out of jail wasn’t the only expense. I stopped off at the store long enough to run in and grab some puppy food, a few toys, a cute little bed, a collar and leash, along with a few treats. I usually waited until I hit a wholesale outlet to buy treats for George. Even the biggest