Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 16: The Crow's Performance

Jack dragged out the word "senior" with heavy emphasis.

Nancy only shrugged. "You never asked, did you?"

Jack choked, left with no comeback.

Mr. Samson, nearly forty, looked utterly lost. "Am I out of touch with the times? What even is an animal communicator? Do you… talk to cats and dogs or something?"

Jack explained, "Mr. Samson, it’s a new profession. With so many people keeping pets these days, some want to know what their pets are thinking. Like why a dog suddenly won’t eat, or why a cat keeps scratching the sofa."

At that, he shot Nancy a pointed look. "These so-called animal communicators claim to use ‘telepathy’ to talk with animals and solve problems for their owners."

"Telepathy?" Samson frowned. "That sounds like superstition to me."

"Exactly," Jack said coldly. "Ninety-nine percent of people calling themselves animal communicators are frauds. At best, they use psychology tricks. Same as fortune tellers." His eyes narrowed at Nancy. "I have every reason to suspect you’re just making this up to cover your tracks."

Nancy met his glare without flinching. "You just lack vision. I’m no fraud."

"She’s telling the truth!" Mandolin spoke up, her voice ringing through the tension. "Those two siblings, along with the crow, saved my life! She can really talk to animals."

Jack checked his watch with a sneer. "Where are the medics? The victim must be hallucinating now—already spouting nonsense."

Mandolin flushed with anger. "I’m the victim here! And I can prove Nancy and Simon have nothing to do with the killer!" She tugged on Nancy’s sleeve. "Show them. Prove you can really communicate with animals."

Nancy beckoned to the crow perched on a branch. "Come here, little crow."

All eyes turned upward.

But the bird didn’t budge.

Jack snorted. "Pathetic. Aren’t you embarrassed yet?"

Samson frowned, ready to cut the farce short. "Simon, cooperate and come with us to the station. If you’re innocent—"

From above, the crow cawed down at Nancy, "That’ll cost extra."

Nancy nearly fainted from anger. Shameless, money-grubbing bird!

She ground her teeth. "Do as I say today, and when bonuses come in, I’ll buy you a gold necklace!"

The moment the words left her mouth, the crow swooped down gleefully and landed on her shoulder, rubbing against her affectionately. "Director, you’re the best~"

The entire crowd gaped.

Samson froze, stunned. Was this bird really such a shameless little actor? Wouldn’t cooperate until bribed?

Nancy seized the moment, pointing at Jack. "Fly onto that man’s head!"

"Yes, ma’am!" The crow flapped over and landed squarely on Jack’s head, its claws tangled in his hair.

"Get off!" For once, the usually composed Professor Summers completely lost it.

Then came a wet, warm splat. Something unpleasant trickled down his head.

The crow had just defecated on him.

"Tissues!"

Jack scrambled in fury while a kindhearted policewoman handed him some.

To many female officers, Mr. Summers had always been a prince-like figure. But watching bird droppings slide down his hair, the illusion shattered in an instant.

Around them, officers fought to contain their laughter. It was wrong to laugh—but the bird’s cruelty was just too much.

"Nancy!" Jack raged after cleaning himself.

Nancy put on an innocent face. "It’s so hot, I only asked it to fan you with its wings. Who knew it’d suddenly feel inspired to use your head as a toilet? Sorry about that."

Then she turned sternly to the crow. "No more going to the bathroom wherever you like. Got it?"

The bird nodded furiously and even bowed toward Jack, looking utterly guilty.

The onlookers were speechless. The crow actually understood.

Nancy pressed her advantage, pointing at Samson. "Mr. Samson’s tie is crooked. Fix it for him."

Samson glanced down, realizing in his rush he hadn’t noticed the wind had blown his tie askew.

The crow cocked its head. "Mr. Samson? That sounds important!"

It immediately fluttered to his chest, tugging his tie straight with its beak, then fussed over it, even wetting the wrinkles with saliva to smooth them out.

That was taking it too far.

Samson, usually a decisive man, stood stiff as stone, letting the crow "tidy" him, not daring to move.