Wrapped Up in Crosswords (10 page)

“Ahhh …” Winston's rotund body rocked from side to side. He looked as though he were shaking himself dry, but the action helped stimulate his brain cells. “And do you truly believe the two-legged creatures are that intelligent, Kitty? I've heard stories of them bringing turtles and even fish into their homes. Fish? Can you imagine?”

“Well, humans can drive cars, can't they?”

“Are you suggesting that's that a sign of wisdom—given their obvious need for exercise?”

“I'm not touching that line,” Princess yipped, as she eyed Winston's sizable girth.

He ignored the comment while Kit produced another weak growl. “Well … they know how to open tin cans and refrigerator doors. They can't be as foolhardy as you're suggesting.”

“I believe you've proved the point I'm attempting to make, Madame Kit: Humans invent nasty things like diets precisely because they have easy access to an overabundance of foodstuffs.” He looked at Princess. “Lawson's eatery, where your Martha toils, is a case in point, wouldn't you say, my dear? I've heard tales of waffles, French toast, pancakes, fried potatoes … the list goes on.” Winston heaved a sigh, although whether from envy or censure was uncertain.

Princess squealed her agreement with Winston's assessment while Kit did a brief, uncertain dance step and began scrabbling at the frozen dirt with two unhappy paws. “But what are we going to
do
?” she all but yowled.

“Ahh, there's the rub,” Winston woofed. “Well, I suggest you show them the disdain you feel for all forms of avian life.” The tone was assured and masterful. He shook himself once more.

“But
how,
if we don't have any birds in the house? If Rosco hasn't even made the connection between Canadian geese and lovebirds …” Kit whimpered, “which does seem dense … I suppose I could try to catch one of the feathered beasts in the garden. Belle keeps a feeder out there all winter—”

But Winston, as usual, had a better plan. “You mean to tell me that Belle and Rosco don't keep eiderdown-filled pillows upon their bed? Bartholomew does. And he has many more arrayed in the sitting room. He also has a quilt, which he and I enjoy during the cooler months. My point is, my dear Kit, these items are filled with feathers. And where do feathers come from, I might ask?”

Kit cocked her head to one side. Winston's suggestion seemed bold indeed. “You want me to—?”

But Princess interrupted. “Chew them up, dearie. A few feathers on the tongue may taste ticklish and dry at first, but your humans are bound to catch on.”

“And if they don't,” Winston concluded, “then I fear for the future of their race. A clearer message, one could never hope for.” But further appendices to this hypothesis were curtailed by a sudden and quite vicious snarl that seemed to emanate from beneath the broken floorboards of the Dew Drop Inn's ruined porch. “What on earth is that?” the bulldog demanded.

The sound repeated itself as Winston, Kit, and Princess walked toward the stairs leading up to the ancient porch.

“There's a dog hiding under there!” Princess, being the smallest of the three, peered into a crack in stair's lowest riser. “A dirty one, too. Yellow and very big. Bigger than Kit, anyway.”

“Get off my turf!” a sinister growl ordered.

“This property belongs to all of us, my dear sir,” Winston retorted, “or is it madam?”

“Do I sound like a female, you prig?” The growl grew in intensity. “Don't make me come out there and show you what's what. I'm telling you to hit the road, and I mean it. I've had enough of listening to the whimpers and whines of the pampered elite for one day.”

“But—” Winston began.”

“Scram!”

The snarl was so loud that Kit was certain the humans could hear, but when she looked in their direction they seemed oblivious.

“Get lost, you dimwits! And don't come near this burrow again. Ever. This is my spread.”

“Strays,” Princess sniffed as the four-legged threesome marched back to their two-legged companions. “They can be such unpleasant creatures. I suppose more should be done to find them decent homes, but who wants to share a dwelling with something like
that
?”

“It's awfully cold without a toasty house to return to,” Kit mused with a purring sigh.

And although Belle hadn't a clue as to the opinion being given, she inadvertently echoed it. “Our three buddies must be as chilled as we are. They look as though they're asking to be taken home.”

Her remark caused Winston to raise his heavy head. “Hardly
puzzling
given the temperature,” he snorted to Princess, who returned the gibe with a yipping:

“Don't be cross, Winnie. It's us canines who usually have the final
word.”

If Dogs Made Crosswords

ACROSS

1.  Mild oath, dog-wise

4.  Dog ___; baboon

7.  Nose out?

12.  ___ Dawn Chong

13.  Chew up

15.  Illinois river town

16.  Rin Tin Tin's network

17.  German admiral

18.  Brought up

19.  Favorite oilman?

22.  Verdi opera

23.  Oxen collar

24.  River in Spain

28.  Inventor Nikola

30.  Buster's housemate

33.  Stanley's housemate

34.  Point

35.  Black

36.  “Cool!”

37.  Favorite horse race?

41.  41-Down source

42.  Some dog-walkers

43.  Royal letters

44.  Director Lee

45.  Salty dog's domain

46.  Old anesthetic

49.  Chow

51.  Abrade

54.  Lemon drinks

56.  Favorite Peck film?

60.  Dog photo maker

63.  ___ blue

64.  Ghostly sound

65.  “With bated ___ …”, Shak.

66.  Posted

67.  ___ dog

68.  Jockey wear

69.  HST-JFK link

70.  A talking horse, et al.

DOWN

1.  Persona non ___

2.  Dog track tease

3.  Encrypt again

4.  Mild oath, for Winston

5.  Young love in Rome?

6.  “with a woof-woof here” refrain

7.  Boxer O'Grady

8.  Yip, yip, yip, yip

9.  Taxing grp.

10.  Mild oath

11.  Craze

14.  Collar locale

15.  Tense lead-in

20.  Of the snout

21.  Actor Edmund, et al.

25.  Result of 50-Down

26.  Some TVs

27.  Wordsmith's vol.

29.  Favors one leg

31.  Where, and how, to buy meat?

32.  Push forth

35.  Tiebreakers; abbr.

37.  “… her poor dog a ___”

38.  With 41-Down, a breakfast order

39.  Noah's early dilemma?

40.  “Gotcha!”, var.

41.  See 38-Down

47.  Like canned dog food

48.  Refill the gun

50.  Noise order

52.  Dog ___; circus highlights

53.  Chew up

55.  Messes

57.  Leftovers

58.  Cheer

59.  Fountain or Rose

60.  Lassie's network

61.  Uris hero

62.  ___ Blanc, Wile E. Coyote's voice

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

Twelve

B
ELLE
gave Rosco a huge hug the moment he walked through the door. Happy to be home at last, Gabby jumped up and placed her paws on Belle's thighs, received a rather distracted pat, then trotted off into the kitchen for a long drink of water.

“I was so worried about you!” Belle gushed. “What if you three had walked into Don Oliver's a few minutes earlier? You could have found yourselves on the wrong side of those guns.”

Rosco gave her a long kiss. “Hey, that's what we were trained for, Belle—stopping felons in the act.”

“Not dressed up as Santa Claus, you weren't. I can't believe Al left without his pistol. What was he thinking of?”

“Kids?” Rosco chuckled, but the sound contained as much relief as it did humor. “You're right. The Police Academy rules should specifically outline toy collecting procedure: Don't conduct clandestine operations without a significant means of defending yourself; i.e., make sure your Santa suits have pockets for concealed weapons … not to mention I.D. And a clip for handcuffs might be wise, too.”

“I'm not joking, Rosco.”

“I know. And I'm glad you're not. I much prefer the greeting I got, than, say ‘What're you doing home so soon, pal?'” He kissed her again. “I do love you, Belle.”

“I love you, too … but I still wish you'd be more careful.”

“Gathering holiday gifts for needy kids isn't supposed to be a high-risk occupation.”

“Maybe you should be carrying your gun, too. At least until those cons are back in custody.” Belle sighed and held him closer. “Everyone was so worried when they heard the news: Bartholomew, Martha—”

“How is everyone's favorite comeback artist, anyway? I'll bet she had some choice observations concerning the Lawson's break-in. ‘No warm honey-blueberry syrup today, folks; we've been hit!'”

“No. Oddly she didn't have many wisecracks …” Belle paused in thought. “I think Sara's right about Martha … something seems to be bothering her—”

“Being subjected to a felony can have nasty side effects, Belle. You don't have to be physically present at the time of the crime to feel violated. And Lawson's is like a second home to Martha—”

“I don't think that's it. Besides, apparently nothing was taken. The police who responded to the call felt that Kenny's arrival put the kibosh on—”

“If it was the same clowns who robbed Don Oliver's Gun Shoppe, our Dr. K. wouldn't have scared them off: six-foot-four or not. Don said these guys were a pretty rough lot.”

“Maybe they just wanted some food, and—” Belle stopped, glanced at her watch, and spun around. “Oh, my dog biscuits! I almost forgot … the timer should have gone off by now.” She flew into the kitchen while Rosco followed at a more reasonable pace.

“You're
baking
dog biscuits? What's wrong with the kind that comes in a red and yellow box? We don't hear many complaints about them from the girls.”

Belle didn't respond to his questions. Instead, she whipped a cookie sheet out of the oven. Creative pride sparkled in her eyes. “This batch is banana and peanut butter. Then I'm doing honey and banana. Winston loves bananas—at least according to Bartholomew.”

“You're making biscuits from
scratch
for Winston?”

Belle looked at her husband as if he'd lost either his hearing or the momentary use of his brain. “For my Secret Santa gift. Sara's instructions ‘suggested' that we ‘either find a reasonably priced remembrance or create something handmade.'” Belle slid the finished product onto a cooling rack, then rolled another ball of dough and began stamping out more cookies with a bone-shaped metal cutter.

“And Sara assigned you a
dog?
What's Winston supposed to give the person on his list? Or is a hand-me-down chew toy okay? Maybe something with a little slobber still attached? Or perhaps a molested slipper?”

“Rosco! These are for Bartholomew!”

“I know the man's last name is pronounced ‘cur,' Belle, but I didn't think he ate dog food.”

“You know, sometimes you are so dense.” She chortled, then returned the cookie sheet to the oven and looked at her watch once more. “Twelve minutes … I don't know what's wrong with that timer.”

Rosco shook the small clock near his ear and said, “You need to wind it up. It works much better that way.” He then set it back on the counter, peered into the glass bowl with the remaining dough, and frowned. “I didn't know you could bake cookies. In fact, I didn't think you could bake anything.”

“I can't,” was Belle's breezy reply. “At least I couldn't until just now. I found the cutter in that fancy, new cooking store in town this morning. The owner also supplied two recipes—and
voilà,
or should I say: ‘Here you go, matey'—biscuits for the English bulldog, Winston!”

“And how are we going to know if they taste okay?” The question was asked with a certain amount of delicacy. He reached into Kit and Gabby's ceramic jar and removed one of their treats. “Have you ever noticed that these store-bought dog biscuits have the word
Tasty
embossed right on them? See, dogs read that, and they know what they're getting into.”

“What, you don't trust me to make dog treats?”

“Well …”

“That's it for you, buddy,” Belle chuckled. “I was going to add to my repertoire and begin making you gingerbread bones, but you can just forget about it after that crass comment.”