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The good thing about having absent minded hippie parents, Birdie thought as she hooked up Sassy’s leash, was that you never had to lie or sneak around about your plans.  There simply wasn’t anyone to ask about them.

The bad thing was there was never anything good in the fridge.  She thought of Frankie’s mother, the home baked cookies and bread and simmering stews that greeted her every time she came over.  Ignoring her growling stomach, she waited until Sassy had finished eating.  “Ready?” she asked the dog.

The King Charles Cavalier’s ears perked up, her tail shaking from side to side.

“That’s right,” Birdie informed her.  “We’re going to go investigate.”  Grabbing her mother’s completely unstylish but useful fanny pack, she filled it with what she considered were essential investigator tools: a Swiss army knife, tiny flashlight, binoculars no bigger than the length of her thumb, a small roll of tape and a recorder her dad had used for his doctoral paper about whether plants responded to singing in ancient languages.

They didn’t.

Locking the door, she and Sassy bounded down the steps and skipped down the sidewalk.

“Birdie!”  She turned to see Mrs. Jones waving her walking stick from her porch.  Stifling a sigh, she stopped and waved.

“Hello, Mrs. Jones.  How are you?”

“Well, my hip is acting up again–it’s going to rain, I’m sure–and my son came over earlier–you remember Harold, don’t you?  You met once at a party at Abigail’s…anyway, Harold came over and brought the kids and ate me out of house and home so I had to go to the store, and you’ll never believe who I saw at the store.  I swear, I thought the Good Lord was going to come down and strike me dead!”

Birdie shifted impatiently.  “Who, Mrs. Jones?”

“Dolly Parton!” the older woman cried gleefully.  “Hair and boobs and all!  I almost keeled over!”  She guffawed, slapping her good knee.  “Now, Birdie,” she said seriously, “When are you coming over for supper?  I’ve got cabbage stew and tuna sandwiches–your favorite.  And the kitties!  I’ve gotten three new kitties since you last came over.  You’ll love them.”

Sassy growled.  She hated cats.  Today, Birdie was inclined to agree.  “Maybe tomorrow, Mrs. Jones.  I’m off to a friend’s to study.  And her mother said she’d fix me dinner.”

Mrs. Jones sighed, tapping her walking stick against the porch railing.  “What a shame.  There’s a Jeopardy marathon tonight…you’ll be missing out!”

“I’m sure,” Birdie muttered.  Waving, she hurried down the sidewalk before Mrs. Jones could start talking again. She was hungry, but not hungry enough for cabbage stew and tuna sandwiches that could be served to cats as easily as humans.

By the time Birdie and Sassy reached the pet shop, the sun had long since retired.  Grey clouds covered the stars, and the air was thick and muggy.  If Birdie hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it was going to rain.

Peering through the dark shop windows, she saw a sliver of golden light from the back room.  Good.  He was here.  Bending down, she slipped off Sassy’s harness and leash and tied them to her belt loops of her jeans.  “Sassy, I’ve got a theory,” she whispered.  “If Mr. Pemberely sees you, just act like you’re one of the animals in the shop.  Don’t let on we’re together.  Got it?”

Sassy cocked her head, her ears perked up.

“Trust me,” Birdie implored her.  The dog’s warm brown eyes smiled at her, and she licked her owner’s hand.  Rising, Birdie slowly pushed the front door of the shop open.  Just as she had suspected, Percy had left it unlocked.  Creeping into the shop, she shushed the excited cats, dogs, ferrets, lizards and hamsters that bounded over to her.  A snake curled around her ankle, a kitten leaped on her shoulder and a hamster somehow buried into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hi, everyone,” she whispered.  “It’s great to see you too.”  That just set the animals off into a wagging, barking, mewing and hissy frenzy.  Waving her hands, Birdie tried her best to shush them.  “Please, please, don’t make any noise.  I don’t want Mr. Pemberely to know that I’m here!”

After a few minutes, the animals eventually calmed down and returned to frolicking about the cageless store.  Dogs settled down to tear into stuffed animals, cats lounged about in the open cages, glaring at anyone who passed, gerbils ran on their wheels and several lizards climbed up to the top of the aquariums, soaking up the warmth from the aquarium lights.

Taking a deep breath, Birdie stalked closer to the back room.  With every step, the murmuring of a man’s voice grew louder and louder.  Creeping into the backroom, she placed a finger over her lips as a signal to the tiny elephants and hippoes, as well as the chattering monkey that ratted her out last time.  Luckily, they were too involved with their feed to pay much attention.

Sliding behind a metal shelf, she pressed her ear to the crack of the door.

“But that’s not what I had planned!” Mr. Pemberely’s voice rang out, honestly astonished.

“Plans change.”  The second voice was lower, harsher.  “Get over it.”

“This wasn’t our deal.  You promised me that I could try these experiments, that I could help the animals!”

The second voice laughed hollowly.  “You think that’s what you’re doing, you crazy fool?  You think you’re helping animals and people? Look at yourself!  You’re a circus freak.”

Mr. Pemberely’s voice was stiff.  “You didn’t think I was a freak when you asked for my help.”

“Because I knew I’d make sure you wouldn’t screw it up,” the voice informed him, arrogant.  “And I plan to do the same for this.  I don’t see the problem.  The zoo is the whole reason we came here.”

“But these aren’t my reasons!  I want to help the animals.  I want to free them!  Your reasons are crazy!  They’re insane!”

“You’re calling me insane?  The mad scientist insulting me? What a joke!”

“I refuse to help you in this!”

“Oh really?”  the second voice had lowered to a deadly whisper.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.  I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

Fascinated, Birdie had failed to notice Sassy and a large tabby cat were having a barking and mewing battle on top of two stacks of dog beds.  The cat lunged for Sassy, who ducked and barreled into the stack of beds the cat was perched on.  The cat went flying into the wall, its claws slowing its descent and leaving identical tears in the paint.  As the barking and crashing of goods rose to a fevered pitch, the metal door went flying open.  Ducking back, the door whipped past her nose by an inch, the door handle centimeters from crushing her chin.  Pressing her back to the wall, Birdie forced herself to stay silent.

“What is going on here?” Mr. Pemberely cried, his whiskers twitching in frustration.  A long orange and black tail swished behind him.  “Who is causing all the trouble?”

Birdie prayed he wouldn’t see Sassy.  Holding her breath, she watched as he began sniffing the air.  His ears perked up, his golden eyes narrowed.  “There’s someone here,” he muttered, scanning the shop.  “Someone who doesn’t belong…”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a new delectable recipe and Friday, a new Dallas Jean!  Stay tuned!