The Silence of the Chihuahuas by Waverly Curtis

because I talked. Now she is beginning to think she is crazy because I do not talk. But a vow is a vow and I am a dog of my word.
    I could use some of the corny devices I have seen on TV and the Internet. Writing letters in the sand. But how can I get Geri to take me to the beach? Hiring a skywriter to write the letters and numbers in puffs of smoke in the sky? Arranging for the fans at a Seahawks game to spell it out with flash cards?
    Perhaps I will find the solution on the Internet. That is what it is for, n’est-ce pas ? (And yes, in case you are wondering, I do speak French, having spent several weeks soaking up the sun on a beach in Cannes during the famous film festival.) Also a bit of Italian: Ciao , baby!

Chapter 6
    Felix helped me calm down. He’s always good in a crisis. Although I didn’t appreciate the fact that he kept asking me if I had seen the license plate. It was true that when I tried to look back in my mind, I thought there was something funny about the number. Like maybe it was an official license plate, not the usual string of three letters and three numbers assigned to civilians. But that didn’t make sense, either. The government doesn’t send men in suits to intimidate private eyes.
    Felix ended up spending the night and we reconciled some of our differences in bed, but when he left in the morning, after writing down the number for the Laguna Beach pet therapist, I was still puzzled about what to do next.
    I decided finding out what was wrong with Pepe was my biggest concern, so I pulled up the number for Dr. Mallard. The receptionist wanted to know what was wrong with my dog. I couldn’t tell her my dog didn’t talk. So I told her my dog was acting very strangely.
    â€œLike what?” she asked.
    â€œLike he’s usually very communicative about what he wants,” I said, “and now he isn’t.”
    â€œSo he’s withdrawn? Isolating himself?”
    â€œWell no, he’s not isolating himself.” In fact, he was in the living room and I could hear the sounds of his favorite telenovela, Paraiso Perdido . “But he doesn’t seem to have any interest in being around me.”
    There was a moment of silence. “So he’s afraid of you?”
    â€œOh, no, not afraid of me. Just ignoring me. Sort of like a child sulking.”
    â€œDid you do something to him?”
    â€œNo, of course not!” I was indignant.
    The receptionist was clearly puzzled. “Well, the doctor doesn’t have any openings for several weeks but I will put your name on the waiting list, in case we get a cancellation.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThat’s the best I can do,” she said firmly, “Dr. Mallard has a very busy practice.” And she hung up.
    My phone rang almost as soon as I set it down and I snatched it up, thinking maybe Dr. Mallard had a sudden opening in his schedule. But it was my sister. Not Teri. But my other sister, Cheryl, who lives with her dentist husband out in a subdivision on the east side of Lake Washington. How odd that she would call the day after Teri called me.
    Without even thinking about it, I asked: “Did Teri call you too?”
    â€œWhat? What are you talking about?” Cheryl sounded offended.
    â€œJust that I thought she called me yesterday,” I said. “She sounded stressed out and frightened. I thought maybe she called you too.”
    â€œWhat did she say?”
    â€œThat someone was trying to kill her. And then she hung up. The call came from a clinic and spa out near Duvall.”
    I could almost see Cheryl shaking her head. “Geri, I think your new job is having a terrible effect on you. You’re getting paranoid. When will you get a normal job and settle down?”
    Cheryl is my older sister and she had to become a mother to me and my younger sister, Teri, when our parents died. She was only eighteen and we were sixteen and fourteen, respectively. It was a hard