For anyone who ever loved All Creatures Great and Small, Annie England Noblin’s newest novel—about a big city vet transplanted to a small Wisconsin town—is pure delight as we meet aging alpacas, stump-tailed cats, goats in tutus, a vagabond border collie named Kevin, and the people who think they own them. And through it all, Goldie McKenzie, DVM, navigates the small town of Blue Dog, Wisconsin.
Welcome to Blue Dog Valley. Home of the Fighting Elk. Population 3,411.
When Goldie McKenzie, DVM, vet to the L.A. pet stars, arrives from Los Angeles to Blue Dog Valley she realizes three things.
1. Never agree to upend your life when you’re hungover
2. Pot-belly pigs are not true farm animals
3. She’s going to need a warmer coat
At first, Goldie is nothing more than a fish out of the water, with few clients and few friends. But after a less than pleasant encounter with a man whose dog is suffering from a possibly fatal case of bloat, she’s finally earning the trust and goodwill from her fellow Blue Dog Valley citizens. Her clientele grows to include the many farm animals in the town, including a horse named Large Marge, a cape-wearing therapy alpaca, and a yardful of sweater-wearing goats. Add in Kevin, the “worst sheepdog in Blue Dog Valley,” and a Sphinx cat named Airport, and Goldie is having the best time a vet can have. . . aside from the annoying attractive town grump, Cohen, who seems intent on making sure she always feels like an outsider.
With her newfound goodwill, Goldie comes up with an idea to reinvigorate the once flourishing Blue Dog Valley: a Christmas carnival. A petting zoo, pictures with Santa, a baking contest, what more could they want? After only some brief resistance from Cohen and his father, they begin the great plan to reinvigorate Blue Dog Valley.
Will Christmas be enough to salvage this dying town—and be enough to bring Goldie closer to a certain grumpy man?
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Goldie McKenzie watched the pet carrier circle around on the conveyor belt and disappear into the bowels of the Milwaukee airport. There was a cat inside the carrier. She knew that, because she’d watched a man—probably about her age, in his forties— walk up beside her as she waited for her luggage, chattering into a Bluetooth headset attached to his ear like it was 2004.
“What am I looking for?” he was asking. “A cat? You’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me, Brenda. A frickin’ cat?”
The first time the carrier passed by them, the man did not make a move to pick it up. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, listened for a moment, and then said, “You didn’t tell me nothin’ about pickin’ up a frickin’ cat.”
The carrier made another trip around the belt.
“Well, if you don’t even want this frickin’ cat, why am I here to pick up a frickin’ cat?”
Goldie looked down at her phone, pretending to read an email while she listened.
“I can’t believe I paid to park just to pick up a frickin’ cat,” the man continued. “Cost me ten bucks. Why didn’t your sister tell you she was sendin’ your dead mother’s cat on a frickin’ airplane? Of all the ridiculous . . . What? No. I don’t want the frickin’ cat.” By this time, Goldie had picked up her own bags, the carrier was nearly the only thing left on the belt, and a crowd of people had come and gone. She only had two suitcases; the rest of her belongings would be arriving later, sent to her new home in Blue Dog Valley, Wisconsin, once she got settled.
Next to her, the man sighed. “If I leave it, won’t they just send it back?”
Goldie flicked her eyes up to the man. Surely, he wasn’t just going to leave the cat at the airport. Was that even a thing a person could do?
Apparently, it was something a person could do, because the man turned around and walked away, vanishing into the thick onslaught of people who’d already claimed their luggage. All around her, people were hustling and bustling, meeting loved ones and embracing, and grabbing their suitcases until it was just Goldie and the cat and the low hum of the belt as it continued to circle.
She stood there so long that it must have started to look suspicious, and she jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Behind her, there was an airport security guard, and he looked concerned. “Everything all right, ma’am?” he asked. “You need help with something?”
Goldie blinked. Did she need help? She didn’t even know where to begin. For starters, she was in Wisconsin, which was an entire solar system away from Los Angeles, where she’d spent nearly her entire life. And then there was the small matter of that life, the one she’d left behind, which was currently in total shambles.
Obviously.
Because why else would anyone come to Wisconsin on purpose? Clearly, she was having a complete and total breakdown, and she doubted very much that the pubescent security guard could help her with that.
“Ma’am?”
“What?”
The security guard cleared his throat. “Are you all right? Can I call someone for you?”
“Oh,” Goldie replied, shaking her head. “No, no, I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” He didn’t look convinced. “That your pet taxi there on the belt?”
Goldie turned her attention toward the cat. “Uh, well ”
“I swear to Father Christmas, if that’s another abandoned animal, I’ll lose my crackers,” the guard said. “That’s the third one this month.”
Goldie tried not to laugh. So far, she hadn’t heard a single curse word uttered since landing in the Midwest. She wondered if the people here were physically incapable of using bad language. As she’d been exiting the plane, she’d heard the flight attendant mutter “cheese and rice” under her breath when the businessman who’d been flying next to Goldie in coach asked the flight attendant for her number.
When the security guard reached out to grab the pet carrier, Goldie stopped him. “No,” she said. “No, it’s my cat. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Cat?” The guard bent down and peered inside the carrier. “It’s one of them hairless cats? Lady, you need to get that cat a sweater.
Do you know how cold it’s about to get here in the city?”
Goldie hid her surprise at finding out that there was a hairless cat—a Sphynx cat to be exact—and said, “Well, I guess it’s lucky I’m not staying in the city.”
“Oh yeah?” the security guard asked. “Where you headed?” “Uh, Blue Dog Valley?” Goldie replied, annoyed that her response came out as more of a question. “Have you heard of it?” The guard lifted up his stocking cap to scratch his head, looked
Goldie up and down, and then said, “In that case, I think you’re both gonna need to be wearing more than a sweater.”
From CHRISTMAS IN BLUE DOG VALLEY by Annie England Noblin. Copyright © 2022 by Annie England Noblin. Reprinted by permission of Avon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
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