Love Birds? Read online

  Praise for Pups in Teacups…

  "This wonderful book had me roaring in laughter, crying (at moments) and remembering all of the tiny babies our family has owned over the years. If you enjoy dog stories, or if you own one of these tiny miracles, you will enjoy this one."

  Roberta Karchner

  "Pups in Tea Cups" is another laugh-out-loud-keep-the-tissue-box-handy book from best-seller Carolyn McCray. After reading her other "animal" book, "Pet Whisper…er…rrr" I couldn't wait to read this one. I occasionally dog-sit for three adorable maltese pups, also known as "the girls." Not only was I highly entertained by this collection of essays, I learned a lot about the condition of "Littleness." I'll be an even better doggie-nannie next time.

  If you love tiny breeds or know someone that does you have to get this book! (And if you're considering adopting a tea cup pup, this book should be mandatory!)"

  Charlotte Abel

  Author, Enchantment

  "As a veterinarian, I could completely relate to all of Carolyn's stories. The joy and sometimes heart-wrenching moments. She had me laughing and crying at the same time. I couldn't recommend this book more to anyone who loves dogs, not just the Tea Cup variety!"

  Ken Herman, DVM

  Main Menu

  Start Reading

  Afterword

  Other Works by Carolyn McCray

  About the Authors

  Contact Information

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright Information

  Table of Contents

  Love Birds

  A Pet Whisperer…er…rrr Short Story

  Wyatt winced as he took the left turn, the hand-over-hand motion pulling on his most recent injury. His finger still hurt from where Diablo, the aptly-named devil Chihuahua, had taken a chunk of flesh out of the protruding digit. Wyatt should really know better by now than to point at the tiny land-shark while scolding him. Or Wyatt could just stop scolding the little demon. It didn’t seem to make much difference.

  One would think as a professional pet psychic, he could coerce the little rat, but no. Of course Wyatt wasn’t the real pet psychic, that was his uncle but with Bodhi laid up at the hospital, it was up to Wyatt to do his muddle through.

  As Wyatt rounded the corner, he saw his assistant, Jazmine stepping out of the beat-up monstrosity she called a car. Jazmine flipped her red hair up and over her shoulder as she turned to look in his direction. She gave him a crooked smile, her teeth white against the deep red of her lips. His hand slipped a little on the wheel. He recovered and flipped her a quick wave before pulling up to the curb and launching himself out of the car.

  “So what we got?” Wyatt asked, checking in the rearview mirror to make sure his hair was mussed, just so.

  Jazmine opened a folder. “Looks like a problem with some Lovebirds that are fighting.”

  “Right,” Wyatt snorted. “Fighting Love birds.”

  Then that expressive eyebrow of Jazmine’s shot up.

  “Seriously?” Wyatt asked. “Love birds fighting… on Valentine’s Day?”

  He chuckled but that eyebrow just kept going up.

  “Oh, okay. Dually Love birds it is.”

  Jazmine flipped a sheet over. “The birds have been together for nearly six months and—”

  Wyatt strode up to the house.

  “Wait,” Jazmine protesting rushing to catch up. “I haven’t even told you half the—”

  Wyatt held up hand. “I don’t like to prejudice my first reading.”

  His assistant stepped in front of him. “More like you have no idea what to do with the information.”

  “Tomato. Tomaato,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “Besides we need to a move on, I’ve got plans.” He checked his watch. Actually they needed to get through this appointment in under five minutes if he hoped to keep his first reservation.

  “You?” Jazmine asked. “You have a Valentine?”

  “Um, three.” Wyatt said as he rubbed his fingernails against his shirt, then snagged the dog bite on his button. “Ouch.”

  “Three? Isn’t that a little… Big Love, even for you?” Jazmine punched his arm, deadening it from the shoulder down. Man, that girl seriously didn’t know her own strength. He worked his shoulder, trying to get the frog out.

  “Not all at the same time, Sugar Ray,” Wyatt responded. “I’m spacing out the goodness. I’m meeting one for lunch, one for dinner, and the last for dessert at her place. And by dessert, I mean a heaping helping of Wyatt.” He spun around in his best James Brown impersonation. “’Cause I’m all about the sweetness. Jump back. I wanna kiss myself. Heh!” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “I doubt if anybody is going to be asking for a second helping with those maneuvers.” Jazmine said shaking her head.

  “Hey, Valentine’s Day is an important national holiday. I’m just doing what I can to spread the love.” Wyatt pointed to his assistant, “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Whatcha got goin’?” Wyatt asked sure she had some swank dinner plans then a long slow, boring walk along the beach. You know, chick stuff. “What are your plans?”

  “Um…” Jazmine wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Well, he’s older.”

  “Oh, so you want to keep your guy a mystery. I feel ya.”

  Jazmine turned away, heading to the house. “It’s about that time, yeah?”

  “Definitely!” Wyatt began jumping up and down, slapping his arms around his chest, then did ten jumping jacks in quick succession.

  Jazmine cocked her head. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready.”

  “For what?”

  Wyatt went into some hamstring stretches. “Remember the speed whispering event? Dumbo?” Wyatt shuddered. “I still have nightmares about that elephant’s trunk.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure a couple with fighting lovebirds is not going to require this much prep.”

  “You may be right,” Wyatt replied. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry. Okay, let’s do this sucker!”

  * * *

  Walking up, Jazmine studied the architecture of the house. Anything to avoid watching Wyatt attempt deep knee bends.

  The house was a salt box colonial, red brick with white trim. The lawn was neatly kept, the edging razor sharp, the grass an emerald green. A silver Mercedes station wagon was parked in the driveway. The entire place screamed understated wealth and attention to detail, especially in the renovations. While most of it appeared done, you could still see evidence of paint drops clothes and discarded scaffolding.

  No wonder the birds were upset. Change like that, the noise of repairs and workmen streaming in and out the house could challenge even a lovebird’s affection.

  As they reached the front door, a loud screech sounded. Wyatt turned to Jazmine. “See?”

  Jazmine rang the doorbell not wanted to egg Wyatt on. How she ended up in this job still baffled her. To act as an assistant to a man pretending to be a pet psychic? But that one hundred thousand dollars in student loans needed to get paid.

  “It’s open!” a voice called out. “Come in!”

  From all the screeching maybe Wyatt was right. It did sound a little like a combat zone. Her “boss” puffed out three quick breaths then opened the door.

  “Hurry,” the voice called out, “Close the door before—”

  Jazmine slammed the door close just as a green and red bird streaked up, screaming all the way. Its bright plumage a blur. It banked over their heads then dove.

  Straight for Wyatt. He ducked, covering his head but somehow the bird landed right in the middle where Wyatt couldn’t reach. He stood up abruptly as Jazmine tried contained her laughter.

  “What?” he said, running his finger throu
gh his hair. “What’s so funny?”

  She pointed to the bird on his head, but Wyatt just couldn’t find the little thing as it settled down on the top of his head. Jazmine’s eyes teared up from suppressing the laughter.

  “You’ve… You’ve got…”

  “Got what?” Wyatt exclaimed turning in a tight circle. “I’ve got a what?”

  By now the lovebird was preening its feathers, right on top of Wyatt’s head.

  “You’ve got a…”

  “A what?” Wyatt demanded.

  “I am so sorry,” their client, Mrs. Kaufman, said running up. “I don’t know what’s gotten into—”

  Another huge screech and suddenly a second lovebird banked around the corner, zeroing in on Wyatt.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Wyatt yelled trying to duck, but the second lovebird came at him, talons out. “Um, hey! A little help here? Ow! What the—”

  “Shoo!” Jazmine said waving at the two birds until they finally flew off, fighting all the way.

  “I can’t possibly apologize enough,” Mrs. Kaufman said as she extended her hand.

  “No, no you couldn’t,” her boss said, shaking his head, sending green feathers everywhere.

  “I’m Ragan,” the client explained. “They have been going at it for weeks. I can’t understand why.”

  Jazmine was about to reply when a male voice called out, “Ragan! Have you seen the Goltz brief? I put it down on the mantle and now I can’t find it.”

  Ragan’s lips fell into a hard frown as she yelled back. “I put it in your desk, Dan. You know. Desk? The place where paperwork’s supposed to be kept?” She grimaced at Jazmine, apparently looking for some feminine solidarity. “But how about you come and meet the pet psychic and his assistant?”

  “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be there in a minute,” the husband responded. “I need to make a quick call.”

  “Quick call,” Ragan muttered then raised her voice. “It’s never a quick call.” Their client turned her attention back to them. “I’m sorry. I really thought that doing this on Valentine’s Day would make it so that we could do this all together.”

  “Hey, yeah, no problem,” Wyatt said, still trying to get his hair back in place while eyeing the arguing birds. “They always so friendly?”

  The woman sighed. “They used to be so in love. Grooming each other. They could barely be apart, but now?”

  She indicated to the curtain rod. Each bird had settled on either end, glaring at one another.

  Mr. Haufman came out of the office, setting both birds squawking at one another. “Satisfied?” he asked his wife. “A short call.”

  Ragan did not seem satisfied at all especially with the two lovebirds high pitched cries. “And its only taken how many weeks to schedule a simple appointment?”

  Jazmine stepped forward before the humans started fighting as badly as the birds. “Well, I think we will need to do a thorough history and then discuss—”

  “No need,” Wyatt announced. “I’ve got this covered.”

  She turned on her heel. Wyatt seldom had anything “covered” and this? They had barely walked into the house. Jazmine knew they had to keep up appearances that Wyatt had “psychic” abilities, but she comforted herself in doing their job properly. Figuring out all the environmental factors, making sure the pets had been to a veterinarian to be certain there were no underlying medical conditions, reviewing the pet’s diet, basically making sure that the clients got their money’s worth.

  “Wyatt, perhaps we should take a moment—”

  “Nope,” Wyatt stated. “I am hearing those lovebirds loud and clear.”

  * * *

  Wyatt, of course, had no real idea what he was going to say. When did he? But those lovebirds were looking a little twitchy, flapping their green wings and snapping open and closed their hooked beaks. Sure they might be weighed in grams, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t take a chunk out of you.

  Besides he’d seen a couple like this before. Not the birds, but the humans. They looked just like his sister and brother-in-law. The way the husband was turned away from the wife, and the wife’s arms were wrapped around her waist. Add in this big rambling house, recently purchased as evidenced by the smell of fresh paint plus the station wagon out front.

  A couple didn’t buy all that without an expectation of the pitter-patter of little feet.

  “You see,” Wyatt started. “I think the lovebirds want to start a family.” Jazmine backed away, shaking her head, but he ignored her peculiarities and marched on. “They want to build a nest.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Haufman frowned but not the scowl like Jazmine more like a frown you get when somebody is talking turkey or in this case, lovebird.

  “And sometimes the guy—”

  “Bird,” Jazmine interjected.

  “Yeah, the guy bird feels like he’s got to build this amazing nest. Since he can’t lay the eggs, building a tricked out nest, that’s his job, ya know?”

  Mr. Haufman nodded as one of the birds flittered down from the curtain rod and landed on his shoulder.

  “He’s worried he won’t be a good enough dad,” Wyatt hurried over Jazmine, “Bird dad. That his kids, I mean, chicks, I mean hatchling, I mean… Oh, you know what I mean, will need more than he can provide.”

  While Mr. Haufman’s head was bobbing up and down in agreement, Mrs. Haufman had adopted Jazmine’s scowl. Wyatt turned to the wife.

  “And while the dad, bird dad, of course, bird dad, is off getting the nest ready the mom bird feels left out and lonely.” The second little green and red monster swooped down landing on Mrs. Haufman’s shoulder as Wyatt continued, “Then she starts to wonder if the dad bird even wants little love birds anymore.”

  Tears sprang to Mrs. Hauffman’s eyes. “I can see why the birds have been so upset.”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Haufman took his wife’s hand. “So the birds really should be building the nest together.”

  “Pretty much, yeah.” Wyatt said giving Jazmine a knowing look, like “I know what I’m doing” look. Even if he did luck out a little on this one. “They are lovebirds after all.”

  Ragan leaned her head onto her husband’s shoulder as the two birds took wing, flying together, swooping in and around one another.

  “They just had to remember it,” Wyatt finished, looking to his watch. Like he said, under five minutes. “All right then, I think we are done here. Nice to meet you both.”

  He put his hand out to shake but the lovebirds, the human ones, had eyes only for each other. Just as well. It was Valentine’s Day.

  “We will let ourselves out,” he said.

  They didn’t really reply so much as start making out. Time to exit stage left.

  Once out the door, Jazmine elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What?” Wyatt protested, rubbing his bruised side. “They’re happy.”

  “Um, did you not notice?” she asked.

  “Notice?”

  “Those two lovebirds?” Jazmine said, that eyebrow on the move again. “They are both girls.”

  Wyatt just smiled. Sometimes he even impressed himself. “So they are very progressive lovebirds, what can I say? I’ve got the magic touch.”

  His assistant rolled her eyes as they walked to their cars. So what if he didn’t know a weevil from a weasel? He knew dysfunction when he saw it. He lived it. Heck, he made it a viable lifestyle choice.

  Which unfortunately meant he picked up on the droop in Jazmine’s step. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your older man not wanting to build a nest?”

  She stopped, eyes downcast. “Yeah, about that, I kind of fibbed.”

  Fibbed? That was Wyatt’s thing, not Jazmine’s. “About what?”

  “I don’t have a date, per se.”

  Ugh. Wyatt hated it when people used weird words. Was “per se” Spanish? French? Seriously, speak English for goodness sake.

  “You don’t?” he asked hoping that was vague yet prompting enough to get Jazmine to say what she really
meant.

  “I…” she looked up and caught his gaze. “I was going to visit your uncle in the hospital. I didn’t think he should be alone today.”

  Wyatt could feel even his well-gelled hair wilt. His Uncle Bodhi. After that stupid stroke he’d been in a coma. Wyatt had visited him every single day. Mainly because Diablo, the demon Chihuahua insisted, but today, today Wyatt had sworn off the hospital. He had three, count ‘em three dates.

  And who could sit through another round of Where the Red Fern Grows? Which by the way, someone might put a warning label on that sucker because the ending? Dear goodness, they had kids reading that book? Then he thought they’d be safe with Bambi and what do you know? The momma dear gets shot. Again, this is kid’s fare? And don’t get him started on Marley & Me.

  What was wrong with an animal story that was fun and heartwarming all the way through? Seriously? He didn’t want his uncle waking up to a blubber-fest.

  “But you go have fun,” Jazmine said fighting with the rusted lock of her beater-mobile.

  “Nah,” Wyatt said jiggling the door’s handle, opening it. “I’ll follow you there.”

  Jazmine cocked her head. “But you’ve got three, count ‘em three dates.”

  “Um, hello?” Wyatt stated making sure he sounded plenty exasperated. “Don’t you know what day this is?”

  “Valentine’s Day?” Jazmine answered slowly.

  “No. It is meatloaf day down in the cafeteria and who, I ask who is going to miss out on that?”

  “Not you, I take it,” his assistant said chuckling.

  “And not you either,” Wyatt reassured her. “But since it is Valentine’s Day, we are putting extra ketchup on that sucker to honor the occasion.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jazmine said as she hunched over to get in her tiny speck of a car.

  “You know it,” Wyatt responded walking back to his car, then turned back to Jazmine. “So do you know how Old Yeller ends?”

  “I think we might want to go with Free Willy.”

  Wyatt stopped short. “That’s a animal movie?”

  Jazmine’s dimples showed as she laughed. “Yes, Wyatt. Yes it is.”

  Huh. You learned something new everyday.