SNOOKERED
by Judith H. Simpson
Illustrated by Joyce Taddeo
When you have naturally curly hair and red toenails, you get no respect. You are automatically written off as a cute ball of fluff. Sometimes this works to my advantage. Who takes seriously a top-ranked, white standard poodle, recently retired from the show circuit, who is still a testament to her owner's grooming skill? Even though my butt isn't naked any more in the required Continental cut for the show ring, and I wear a kennel cut with red bows on my ears, I am still incredibly elegant. Perhaps that is why Dino did no more than grit his teeth when I asked, "And where were you when these nefarious deeds were taking place?"
The Doberman was not happy. Guarding the grooming shop and boarding kennel was his job, after all. It was painful to his dignity and self-esteem to admit he'd been snookered.
"I was tricked," he muttered, his body still vibrating with rage.
That much was obvious to me.
"So," I asked him, "this person broke into the shop, and came into the kennel, not awakening any of the dogs. How did he do that?"
Dino sat glumly in the corner, avoiding looking at our owner, who was occupied with a lively discussion with the police chief. "I didn't see anybody."
"Was it a he?"
Dino shrugged. "Probably."
I cast him a sharp look. "There's no probably about it! The person was either a male human or a female human and even you, Dino, can tell the difference!"
He bridled at my tone. "I'm a Doberman, not a bloodhound!"
"You had a respectable career as a drug dog before Maggie got you," I reminded him. "Anyone who can sniff out drugs should be able to tell a male from a female!"
"And so I could," he snarled, "if I'd ever gotten close enough to this person to get a whiff of him! And what's it to you, anyway? I presume you were safely at home, sleeping on your custom made cushions!"
I ignored his jibe. "It's not a matter of what this has to do with me. I was not on duty when this happened. I only thought you would be eager to discover the truth and clear your name and reputation."
Dino thought about this. "I would. I just thought..."
"...You would leave it to the humans to solve," I finished for him. "Consider it, Dino. They totally lack our sensory attributes, not to mention the ability to think logically that some of us have! The odds are greater that we can solve this crime."
"What was the crime?" Dino asked. He looked at the floor, unwilling to admit he didn't even know what had happened. I'd forgotten that he'd been left shut in the run during the early stages of this investigation.
"The bird was stolen."
"The bird?" His face lit up. "That stupid bird
with the red tail?" 
"That very one. His name, I recall, is Christopher. He's an African Gray parrot, a media star, and his owner boarded him here while she went on vacation. Our intruder took nothing but Christopher. Interesting, isn't it?"
"No. Stupid maybe, but not interesting. Who would want him?"
I tried not to let my frustration show. "That's exactly the point. I'm sure he's quite valuable..."
"Why? He's just a bird!"
"He's a TV star," I reminded him. "He does TV commercials and that makes him valuable. And he's not particularly easy to work with. He will only do his tricks for his owner. No one else can get him to do anything. So, why steal him?"
"Maybe," Dino said, his dark eyes gleaming, "whoever stole him doesn't want to work the bird. Maybe he wants to have him for lunch!"
"No, only you want to have him for lunch! Chris has been teasing you, has he? He's got quite a mouth on him."
"Doesn't he tease you, Angelique?"
"Not at all. The last time he got smart with me, I explained things to him."
"You threatened him?"
"Absolutely. I promised to remove those red tail feathers, one at a time, if he opened his beak again. He hasn't."
I turned and watched our owner, Maggie, as she harangued the police chief, who happened to be her first cousin. It was clear that Maggie was furious because Chief Robert didn't seem to be taking this abduction with the urgency she felt it deserved. I turned back to Dino. "If this is going to get solved, we're going to have to do it."
"So, how do we start?"
"With the scene of the crime," I said. I led the way out of the big grooming room, through the laundry room, and into the small room where the food was kept and prepared for the boarding dogs. To our credit, neither of us paused to check the lid on the storage bin where the dog biscuits were kept. Instead, we went into the kennel. The layout of the kennel was simple. A wide concrete floored aisle ran down the center, with runs on either side of it. The chain link runs, 12 down the right, 12 down the left, included both inside and outside areas. A dog door that could be raised and lowered by a cord allowed access to the outside area. Each run also had a pile of clean bedding and a bucket of fresh water. The last run on the left was Dino's. The inside run was the same width as the others, but the outside run turned the corner and ran down the wall at the end of the building. Dino spent most of every day in that run; at night, he was loose in the shop and kennel.
"Let's start at the beginning. When we got here this morning, you were shut in your run, instead of being in the grooming room. Are you telling me you didn't see who did it?"
"That's what I'm telling you, puff ball. Try listening."
It was clear this dog had an attitude problem. "Listen," I said coldly, "I find this a mildly amusing puzzle. That's all. It's not my problem, Dino. It's yours. If you want to be snarly about it..."
"O.K., I didn't mean that. I do want your help. The beginning is that run," he said, pointing.
I paced back up the aisle to the one empty run and examined it. The gate stood open and I went in. The dog door was also open. I knew the routine of the kennel. Maggie's kennel girl fed the boarding dogs and did one last clean up of the outside runs before going home. When Maggie locked up for the night, she made sure each dog had been brought inside and that the dog door to the outside run was closed. The dog doors were made of thin, lightweight wood. Each was raised and lowered by a long piece of white cord. Someone, I discovered, had first cut through the wire fencing covering the top of the outside run. The wire there was regular woven wire, not chain link, as the sides were composed of, and it could be easily cut. This someone then bent it aside and dropped into the outside run. It would have been a simple matter, then, for this person to slide open the dog door and crawl through. The wooden door had been removed and the cord cut away. I looked at Dino, who was still looking snarly. "So the person came in this way, through the dog door, and out into the kennel and you didn't see him?"
"I didn't see him."
"How could you miss seeing him?" I argued. "Unless you were in the outside run..."
"He didn't come in through that run. I was right here from the time Charlene left until this morning and nobody came in through that run."
I thought about that. If Dino was telling the truth, this information changed everything.
"Charlene shut you in the run?"
"Before dinner. She always shuts me in during dinner, then lets me out before she leaves."
"Has she forgotten before to let you out?"
"Never."
This gets more and more strange, I thought. I led the way back to the feeding room and turned left, into the small animal area. It was across the main corridor from the grooming room and was mostly used for cats, but occasionally birds or ferrets would be boarded there. I knew Christopher, the parrot, had been kept in here. The big wrought-iron stand was empty. A heavy cloth lay on the floor. I recognized it as the one used to cover Christopher at night.
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Updated: January 13, 1997