Unfortunately, in a town as small as Stuarts Draft, Animal Services was covered by the Sheriff’s office and neither Sheriff Wainright or his single deputy, Officer McCall, wanted anything to do with the Fensters.
Deputy McCall did, at least, come up to check the first time, but the moment Mike Fenster fixed him with that crazy, snaggle toothed grin, he had backed down almost immediately.
“Just mind your dogs,” he’d said, getting back into his cruiser in a hurry. “Don’t wanna hear any more reports of animal abuse around here.”
“Oh, you won’t, Officer,” Mike Fenster had grated, through his handful of brown and broken teeth. “Don’t you worry, you won’t hear anything about us ever again.”
Then he had turned that crazy grin of his towards the bushes that ringed his property, just as though he knew Christine was crouching there, watching the whole exchange.
That insane, nothing-to-lose grin had frightened Christine too, but she hated to see animals being abused. The second time she’d called, to report that one of the Pitties was off its chain and had chased one of her feral cats up a tree, Sheriff Wainright had practically given her a scolding. He had told her that the Sheriff’s office had better things to do than chase after cats.
“I know that, but this animal is savage—they’ve made it crazy,” Christine had protested. “And it’s loose in my woods—I don’t dare step a foot outside!”
“Don’t then,” Sheriff Wainright said curtly. “Just stay inside until the owners come looking for it—I’m sure they will eventually.”
And then he had hung up on her. When Christine called back, she had gotten the recording that told her to leave a message because the officers were busy helping other people.
It was then that she had realized how really dangerous the Fensters were—they even had the Sheriff and his deputy spooked. Or else they had made some kind of a deal with them. Either way it was bad news.
“Dollars to donuts they’re cooking meth up there in that rusted out trailer,” Christine’s friend, Donna had said. She was the other vet tech at Whiskers and Tailsand she loved to gossip. “You oughta get out of there, Chrissy,” she told Christine, shaking her head as she held down a Chihuahua mix named Gracie while Christine clipped the dog’s toenails.
Gracie, who was always dramatic, was howling and crying so loudly that Christine could barely hear her friend’s words.
“Come on now, Gracie—you know I’m not hurting you,” she said, giving the dog a comforting pat. “Just hold still a little longer.”
“I mean it—just leave. Sell your cabin and come move in by me,” Donna told her as Gracie continued to howl.
“And who’s going to want to buy my cabin now that the Fensters are my new neighbors?” Christine demanded. “There—you’re done,” she added as she finished clipping the last toenail. “Let her up, Donna—poor little thing is going to shake herself to death.”
“I don’t know who would buy now, to be honest.” Donna had shaken her head as Christine gathered the trembling little dog into her arms and soothed her. Then she brightened. “Maybe out-of-towners? Tourists that don’t know anything about the Fensters? Just be sure you pick a day to show the cabin when they’re out.”
“I can’t do that!” Christine had objected. “It’s not right to lie to people like that!”
“Well, I guess not.” Donna sighed. “I wish you would have sold back when Maggie went away to college—it’s not good living up in the sticks all alone in the winter.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” Christine had told her.
Maybe she should have sold and moved when Maggie went off to college, she thought now, as she dusted herself off and began trudging the rest of the way to her cabin. All her kids had begged her to. But at the time, she’d thought she would miss the solitude of her little patch of woods too much.
Sadly, now that solitude was often broken by ear-splitting death metal music being blasted in the middle of the night. And nobody in their right mind would want to move in next door to the Fenster brothers with their crazy eyes and Nazi tattoos and savage Pitbulls.
“I know I certainly don’t want to be living next to them,” Christine muttered to herself. But for now, at least, she was stuck. And there was no use worrying about things you can’t change, as her mother had always said.
Christine had reached the part of the road which branched off towards her cabin as she thought this. It was past six and the winter twilight was coming on fast, covering everything in shadows. She would have to work fast herself, she reflected, to get in the wood she needed for the night and make sure the fires were all built up in the little potbellied stove and her own fireplace. The weather forecast had promised another chilly night with freezing temperatures and some more snow.