There’s an old adage that dogs are a man’s best friend. Leave it to humans to gloss over the fact that we cats are the literal guardians keeping their species alive.
“Dinah?” my girl Alice called to me as she lounged in the garden grass. As far as humans went, she wasn’t the worst.
“Can you get the door, Miriel? Peaches here is a real handful,” Stephanie Brent said to me as she struggled with a little orange tabby. It snarled shrilly and scrabbled at her pink jacket’s collar. Tyler Galaro and his Shetland ponies had already arrived.
We were at Ladbrook Assisted Living—a nice place,
I was almost positive Puddin Joe had sold me bad intel, but when I tapped in the code for Arbister’s personal office, the door slid open in silky silence.
Stepping through, I ran straight into a diminutive woman wearing glasses so thick the eyes behind them looked like a pair of emerald fish too
“We’ve got a fanfiction character on the loose, Agent Spaulding.” Fledgling hands me a dossier.
I kick my heels onto my desk. “And?”
Fledgling’s eyes widen. “And? Regulations state we need to hunt it down before it tangles the timelines, sir!”
“I know
Wan December sunlight shone down on Fairyland, softening the edges of nearby buildings. The clear blue sky boded well for the first day of business at Frank’s Detective Agency.
My detective agency.
I turned toward my desk, clapping my fore-hooves in anticipation. Perhaps my first case would be a big one, like those portrayed
October 29. National Cat Day. Once a holiday for sharing feline photos on social media but now a day of remembrance. The day I singlehandedly averted an interplanetary crisis and the world changed forever.
It started out as a normal, autumn morning. Felix and I had just finished breakfast on the patio.
So, I did something stupid.
A barn cat’s number one rule is simple: catch the rats, leave the chickens alone. It’s not a hard rule to follow. Chickens are mean. The ones with the larger combs threaten to kill me just for walking by—rude considering I protect their nests from rats.
“We risked going to prison for a flashlight?” Big Ricky’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. Meager light from a flickering yellow streetlamp outlined the alley’s brick wall and a dumpster off to the side. A brisk September breeze swept past them as Ricky and Jimmy crept down the alley. You wouldn’t have guessed…
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Since the last thing I needed was to draw negative attention to myself while visiting my girlfriend’s family, of course my brother had to knock over a decorative vase.
I stared down at the ceramic shards and uttered a Motervian curse.
Jorgaa knelt and dipped a blue finger into the scattered powder.
The air smells like history, old paint, and other cats.
Your stomach flips as you look around the basement, the human who carried you down already retreating back upstairs. Cats of varying breeds mill about, lounge atop antique pipes, and nap in the crumbling nooks and crannies of the hall, a patchwork of…
Merit flicked his tail in frustration. His best servant—Pharaoh something or other—was dead. He knew this because when he’d arrived for his morning scratch, the human had just lain there, eyes open but unseeing. The body had also been cold. Not good for curling up next to.
Still, to be sure…
Sir Gregory stepped out from behind the overturned table, dusted the ash off his boots, and exhaled in relief. Not even a scuff on the shiny leather. He ran fingers over his cape made from a manticore’s pelt. That, too, was as luxurious as ever. He stared through the broken wall at the departing
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