Page 11 of Cats and Dogs

Chapter 5

Fleabag

“Wait, you’re telling us there’re actually witches in New Orleans,” Christine asked, while they walked around the town perimeter.

Rain nodded. “Witches, werewolves, vampires. That close to a permanent portal to an infernal world, all kinda sups converge. My family has guarded the portal for generations. The problem is, everyone's power hungry, greedy, and treacherous as fuck. Got out as soon as I could. They figured I'd run back with my tail between my legs." She shrugged. "It's been ten years and I'm doing just fine on my own."

"Do you miss it?" Jas asked. "I mean, I went to Nola once, during Mardi Gras. It's definitely something else."

Rain sighed. "Yeah, how couldn't I? The vibrancy, the beauty of the city, the music, the food! It's more than that, though. I'm a witch; a witch practicing ancestral magic. When I kissed Nola goodbye, I left most of my powers behind."

"Wait." Christine chuckled "You mean when you hid a whole army by magic, and created walls so strong I can actually feel them all around us, you weren't at your best?"

Rain winked. "Trust me when I say you don't ever wanna see me at my best."

The wind turned and Jas grimaced. Catching the same repugnant scent, Christine winced.

"What? What am I missing?" Rain asked.

"Dog."

"Yeah, that one's a stinker."

A second later, an enthusiastic brown and white bulldog appeared from the forest line, barking at them.

"How cute!" Rain exclaimed.

"He's ugly as fuck," was Jas' comment.

"And stinky. Let's not forget stinky."

Of course, the dog was fascinated by Jas' and Christine's scents; feline shifters in their human forms always excited domestic dogs. In their animal forms, it was another story.

"Aww," the witch cooed, "I think this baby's a stray. Look how thin he is..."

"No." Jas was already shaking her head. "Uh-uh. Never. We're not bringing that bag of fleas into our home."

Turned out, Rain wasn't bad at doing the pouty face. Or maybe she just hocus-pocused them until they gave in. Either way, three hours later, at the end of their shift, they were hosing the fleabag down in the garden. The kids, with Rain and Vivicia, half laughing, half puking, rubbed some shampoo over him, while Christine called the closest vet.

"Valley Vets, Tania speaking, how can I help?"

"Oh, hi! Look, my friend and I picked up a stray dog close to Lakesides and we were wondering if we could bring him in for a checkup? See if he had a microchip, maybe."

Then they'd find the owner and the mutt would be out of their hair pronto.

"I see. Can you get here tomorrow at two? I have a last-minute cancellation. If not, we can fit you in on Friday—"

"Nope." No way were they waiting for five days. "Tomorrow at two sounds great." Then she hesitated. "I have to mention that we're shifters, by the way."

On the other end of the phone, Tania stilled.

"I mean, if that's a problem, we have a witch who can come instead."

"No, no, no," said Tania. "I mean, no problem. I kinda never saw a shifter. You know. But," she cleared her throat. "That's fine. As long as I'm not supposed to treat, like, you. Not sure my license clears me for that."

"No, it's just the bulldog. We're all good here."

And shifters healed very fast, in any case, if they were ever wounded. The one type of wounds they couldn't heal from were only treatable by a witch, not a vet.

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