Episode Four

Friday afternoon. Whisker Heights Academy. Just a few minutes left of school. The only thing between the kittens and the weekend is the last lesson of Gatarina Celestina Maullido’s Grace & Poise.

For some kitties though, their braincell is already in weekend mode.

Ronromeo Gabriel Felinez—the type of student that made learning so effortless he often forgot to make an effort and pay attention. Gatarina saw him laughing and talking with his friend Miaugusto Alejandro Gatierrez, so she decided it was her time to learn something.

“Ronromeo, would you mind telling me what’s so funny?”

Ronromeo and Miaugusto stopped laughing immediately.

“Nothing, Ms. Maullido”, Ronromeo replied.

“Ronromeo. Miaugusto. I can imagine you’re looking forward for the weekend, all I’m asking is a few more minutes of your attention.”

“But I already finished with the activities.”

“Ronromeo, you might have finished, but there are other kitties still working in them.”

“Why do we even have to learn Grace & Poise? My uncle says cats are graceful by nature.”

Gatarina had heard that before, she was immediately concerned about Ronromeo’s uncle influence. “Your uncle is not completely wrong, Ronromeo. There are things that come naturally to cats, and still, many a cat has not mastered paw placement, perfect loaf folding, or even advanced tail choreography.”

Ronromeo’s eyes opened wide. “There are levels to loaf folding?”

“Yes, there are. Once you’ve learned them, maybe you can teach your uncle.”

As the kitties focused again on the class, Gatarina wondered if she’d have to speak with Ronromeo’s uncle.

Miauricio Leonidas Felinez didn’t want to talk.

The meeting had extended a few minutes. Being the first week of working as Senior Nap Coordinator, he didn’t feel comfortable interrupting and cutting it short.

He kept looking at the clock knowing he had to leave and pickup his nephew from school.

Grrraciela Miauriana Oreiro was presenting. “We hope this makes the documentation purrcess more efficient. Are there any questions?”

Miauricio knew he had to give everyone a chance to come up with questions, after counting three Meowssissippis, he took advantage of his recently acquired authority. “I think we’re good Grrraciela. Thanks for putting that presentation together. I want to be respectful of everyone’s time, so let’s finish here and if needed, we can meet to clear questions on Monday.”

He could have sworn Grrraciela was about to say something else when he disconnected from the meeting. The apology could wait, right now, he had to move. He closed his laptop and made his way to the elevator as fast as HR allowed.

The clock said he had nineteen minutes to make it to Whisker Heights. It took him somewhere around ten to fifteen minutes to get there. That should do it.

He got in his car and put some meowsic. Alice Coopurr’s School’s Out came up.

The bell rang and the kitties started making their way out.

Gatarina had been thinking about Ronromeo. Despite having interrupted the class, he had a confidence to himself. She thought of her other student, Juliana “Juli” Miauría Orozco. Juli was very shy but also very bright. Gatarina had an idea.

Before the kitties left the classroom, she called the two students: “Ronromeo. Juli. Can you stay?”

The kitties sat back in their desks. Ronromeo looked annoyed. Juli looked concerned.

“Ronromeo, Monday you’ll sit next to Juli, alright?”

Ronromeo looked at Gatarina. Then at Juli. “Sure. Hi, Juli!”

Juli seemed flustered. “Umm, hi, Ronromeo.”

Gatarina continued: “The idea is that you two get along and learn from each other, you’re both excellent students”. She studied their reactions. The two students seemed to have accepted it very well. “Thanks for staying a few more minutes, you can leave now.”

The kitties left the classroom first. Gatarina grabbed her purse and after a second, she pulled her engagement ring from the top drawer. She still wasn’t used to wearing it in class and more than once she had to go back to the classroom just to pick it up. With everything ready, she stepped out, her friend—Laura Pantericia “Panty” Garrido—was waiting.

“Reorganizing for Monday?”

“Yeah, I’m sitting Ronromeo next to Juli.”

“Oh, good call. Ronromeo is a brilliant kitty but gets distracted so easily.”

The two teachers walked all the way out when they noticed Ronromeo waiting at the front gate with don Emichiliano, the guard.

They approached Ronromeo and asked him what happened.

“I don’t know. My uncle was going to pick me up.”

Don Emichiliano turned to the teachers with the look of a cat who had seen this happen a thousand times.

Gatarina’s concern grew. So not only was Ronromeo’s uncle making him think less of the Grace & Poise class, but he was running late too?

The teachers agreed that Panty would check at the Principal’s office in case Ronromeo’s uncle had notified about the late arrival, while Gatarina would wait with Ronromeo.

Gatarina, don Emichiliano and Ronromeo waited together. The two grown cats trying to keep up with the kitten slang, when a blue SUV parked in the front of the school and a white cat came running.

“Ronromeo! Sorry I’m late kittyo, my meeting ran a little longer than expected and I thought I had enough time…”

“Tío Miauricio!”

Ronromeo and Miauricio hugged. Miauricio continued: “I swear it’s like Purrphy’s Law, the more hurried you are, the more the universe conspires against you.”

“Who’s Purrphy, tío Miauricio?”

“A lawyer, I guess…”

“A captain. Captain Edward A. Purrphy Jr.” Interrupted Gatarina.

Miauricio turned his attention to don Emichiliano and Gatarina. “I’m sorry for making you wait, don Emichiliano and…”

“I’m Ms. Maullido, Ronromeo’s Grace & Poise teacher”. There was an emphasis in the way she said her class’ name.

“Oh, Grace & Poise. I’ve always been intrigued by that class.”

“Tío Miauricio, you said it was use…”

Miauricio put his paw on Ronromeo’s mouth.

“I think we should go, we’ve made you wait long enough. Thanks again for staying with Ronromeo.”

Before Gatarina could say anything else, Miauricio and Ronromeo were on their way to Miauricio’s car. As the two cats got in, Panty came back.

“Oh, Ronromeo’s uncle showed up?”

“Yes. Said he was late because of a meeting or something.” Gatarina’s voice was unimpressed.

“Oh shoot, I missed it.” Panty’s voice was… disappointed.

“You missed it?”

“Gatarina, you’re engaged to Rugelio Ricardo Tigrano so you might not see it, but Ronromeo’s uncle is a fine tomcat.”

“A fine cat who doesn’t know who Captain Purrphy is.”

“Captain Purrphy?”

Gatarina rolled her eyes. The two teachers left. Gatarina came to learn that not only Panty, but other teachers all thought Ronromeo’s uncle was good looking.

She didn’t see it. Maybe it was true she had eyes only for Rugelio.

Twenty minutes before seven. He’d arrive fifteen minutes early. He always did.

The reservation was for eight and Rugelio said he’d take her to a very special restaurant—Il Gatto Sofisticato—just the name sounded fancy.

She put on her white and lavender floral midi dress and violet cardigan, Rugelio’s request. The doorbell rang. Rugelio came in. He was wearing a black suit with a violet tie.

He extended his paw, Gatarina grabbed it, and Rugelio paused.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gatarina flushed. The engagement ring. She went back to her room and came back wearing it.

“Sorry, I take it off at school and sometimes I forget to put it back…”

Rugelio seemed thoughtful. “Are you not afraid to lose it?”

“Relax, that’s not going to happen.” She tried to be reassuring.

“And… you’re not concerned to be seen without it… tomcats thinking you’re single?”

“The only tomcats I talk to at school call me Ms. Maullido and think my class is useless.” She joked, still trying to reassure Rugelio.

Rugelio still didn’t seem satisfied with the response. Gatarina tried to be playful. “Ruge, are you jealous?”

“I just want to know it matters to you as much as it matters to me.” Rugelio smiled.

Gatarina wasn’t sure if he was trying to regain composure or if he was embarrassed by his feelings. “It does. It matters a lot to me too.”

They made their way out, Rugelio started talking about the restaurant and the food they were about to order. Gatarina was particularly excited about the seafood.

They got in Rugelio’s car. Enough time had passed and he had regained his composure. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to be so…”

Gatarina could think of many words, paranoid, jealous, distrustful, but she opted to stay playful. “Dramatic?”

Rugelio scoffed. “I don’t do drama.”

“Come on now. A little bit of drama never hurt anyone.”

The ensuing argument was dramatically playful. Rugelio played the part better than even he would admit.

The purrfect way to start the night.

End of Episode Five

Gatarina and Miauricio’s first encounter wasn’t as smooth.

Did you have a favorite moment?

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Sam found out about the Eclipse Gemstones and went looking for clues in the city’s jewelries and pawn shops.

Sam found a clue, but it wasn’t enough. He went back to the Angora Inn and had a conversation with Purrl Holiday, the Inn’s singer. The conversation ended up being more revealing than Sam expected.

And maybe not just about the Eclipse Gemstones…

Monday, August 24

Tuesday, August 25

Wednesday, August 26

Thursday, August 27

Friday, August 28

Saturday, August 29

Sunday, August 30

This is Act Four of an ongoing story. If you missed Act Three, read it here:

Act Three

If you want to go to the beginning, go here:

Act One

Act Four: Aequinoctium

Dreaming of kitty girls is usually cause for a blissful awakening. I had dreamt of kitty girls and I was awake, but I wasn’t feeling very blissful.

I was going to the Angora Inn following the instructions of a beautiful singer who liked sunbathing at the beach, and following the trail of another kitty girl who was the sun to my moon.

The expectations put on my braincell were monumental. I needed to be smart enough to crack the case, and stupid enough to do it all for a kitty girl destined to ruin me.

It was still early. The kitties in the lobby at this time of the day seemed like they were all law-abiding catizens. The morning sun made it difficult to conceal crimes, which is why I was there. To uncover what the sun couldn’t.

Thanks to my conversation with the restorer, I knew the Pawsworths were trying to cover the theft of the Eclipse Gemstones, and thanks to my conversation with Purrl, I knew that Milo Pawsworth and Purrnelope were involved somehow.

I said somehow, like my deduction skills failed when it came to her. Admittedly, they often did.

When you put your hope in a kitty girl, and you’re a hopeless romantic, she makes sure the hopeless part is true.

Purrl arrived earlier than the day before. She looked so different wearing a coat over that lavender long-sleeved blouse, gold necklace and red skirt.

Her cattitude though, that never changed.

“You know, Sam, having a cute face doesn’t excuse that outfit.”

“Unlike you Purrl, I try to not be the center of attention.”

“That’s insulting.”

“Pardon?”

“Implying I have to try to be the center of attention. Darling, when the stars align, they’re waiting their turn to see me.”

Her confidence was almost intimidating. I was used to being intimidated. It didn’t always work, then again, the threat of a good time was my purrpetual weakness.

Before I could say something to keep embarrassing myself, Reginald Pawsworth’s lawyer—Barnaby Clawford—came in.

“Ms Holiday, didn’t know you’d be here so early.”

“Mr Clawford, good morning. I had a date with my friend, Mr Sharpe”, she said while turning her eyes to me. “I also thought it wouldn’t hurt to rehearse a little bit more for the big day.”

I had met Barnaby on Sunday. He must not have remembered as he greeted me like it was the first time we met, just as cold and distant.

“Nice meeting you, Mr Sharpe.” We shook paws and he immediately turned his attention back to Purrl. “Reginald is going to be here in a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me.”

Barnaby walked to his office, probably to sign very important papers.

“Is he always in a hurry?” I asked Purrl.

“Oh you know, with Mr Pawsworth away from the hotel for so long, Mr Clawford has been more involved with some of the management and administrative work. Poor cat barely leaves that office now.”

We sat at a table in the lobby and waited for Reginald Pawsworth to arrive. She told me about her dreams of glamour and fame, I decided to not tell her about mine. Especially last night's.

Reginald Pawsworth showed up as expected. Unexpectedly, his whole family also showed up.

Reginald Pawsworth came in arm-in-arm with his wife and behind them, Milo Pawsworth came holding Purrnelope's paw.

I knew she saw me. I knew she was pretending like she had never seen me before.

“Purrl, nice to see you here. Thought rehearsals started later”, said Reginald.

“Mr Pawsworth, I was just having brunch with my friend, this is Mr Sharpe.”

Reginald’s eyes locked on me. It was the look of someone who wanted you to know you were welcomed, but also someone who wanted you to know you were there because he allowed it.

“Does Mr Sharpe have a first name?” asked Reginald.

“Sameowl. You can call me Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. This is my wife Frances, my brother Milo and his girlfriend, Purrnelope.”

There she was. Wearing a sleek black dress, long black opera gloves and a wide-brim black hat. And wearing the same purrfume I smelled on the note she sent me just a few days ago.

They all said hi. I shook paws with Reginald and Milo—the same Milo who had apologized about not leaving a note for the stolen gemstones the family was now pretending had not been stolen. The same Milo who was dating Purrnelope.

I had to keep apearances. I had to continue talking with Reginald.

“Nice to meet you Mr Pawsworth, your family is as wonderful as your hotel.”

“I can assure you Mr Sharpe, my family outshines any of my businesses any day of the week.”

Reginald Pawsworth seemed to believe it, and yet, everyone seemed to be playing a role for a carefully planned public performance. Milo didn’t speak unless given the word, and even Purrnelope seemed to know she didn’t have a part in the script.

“So, Mr Sharpe. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m something of a freelancer…”

“A freelance writer and meowsic critic. He wants to write a review of my show.” Purrl said interrupting me.

“I see. You better write a pawsitive review then, Mr Sharpe.” Reginald laughed. It was intended as a joke. I knew it wasn’t.

“Mr Pawsworth, I know Thursday’s gala is a private event, but I was hoping you’d let me bring Mr Sharpe as my purrsonal guest.”

Reginald’s face got serious. He didn’t seem to like the idea and was probably trying to figure out how to reject Purrl’s request. Before he could say anything, Purrl insisted.

“You know I don’t have any other purrsonal guests, Mr Pawsworth. Even if you’re in no obligation to entertain my request, I would be very grateful if you did.”

Her tone was almost pleading. I had heard that tone when she sang love songs. The ones about heartbreak. The ones I related to most.

My poor heart. You’d swear it was made of stone, yet the gentlest touch was strong enough to break it.

I was wondering what Purrnelope was thinking, seeing Purrl making the case for me.

Before Reginald could say anything, Barnaby came back. The whole family greeted him like he was one more member. The conversation shifted to business and they seemed ready to leave when Purrl interrupted them.

“Mr Pawsworth, about my request…”

“Purrl, yes, your request. I’ll have Barnaby update the list of guests so Mr Sharpe can attend. And remember Mr Sharpe, I want to read a pawsitive review.”

Purrl was smiling satisfied. I knew I owed her now. I also owed Reginald Pawsworth a meowsic review.

“So, I guess I’m a writer now.”

“I had to improvise. With that outfit, I couldn’t say you’re a businesscat.”

Purrl kept surprising me. I didn’t know if she lied because she knew who I was, or because she wanted to believe she did.

The Pawsworths were all on their way to Barnaby’s office when I saw Purrnelope speaking for the first time. She seemed to be excusing herself, but what caught my attention was that it seemed like she was asking Reginald for permission. He just nodded, and she went in the direction of the restrooms. It was my chance.

“Purrl, will you excuse me? I need to go to the restroom.”

“Don’t make me wait too long, dear. I’m here just for you.”

She didn’t mean it to sting. It stung anyway.

I made my way to the restrooms and hoped I could talk with Purrnelope even for a few seconds.

The restrooms were down a hall, just outside of view enough. I stood outside of the ladies’ restroom when she opened the door and pulled me inside. She opened a stall and pushed me there, but she stayed out.

“I’m being watched, we don’t have much time. They could come at any minute.”

“Purrnelope…”

“Don’t talk, just listen. Go to 95 Orchid Drive, Apt 5. You’ll get more answers there.”

I heard the door of the restroom open and Purrnelope’s footsteps leave. I waited a few seconds and exited the stall. As I was coming out of the bathroom, Purrl was waiting outside.

“Don’t tell me you’re a peeping tomcat, Sam.” She raised an eyebrow, accusatory.

“Oh my, did I go into the wrong one?” I tried to look as incompetent as I felt embarrassed.

I talked with Purrl for a few more minutes, and then she made her way to rehearsals. It gave me a great opening to go to 95 Orchid Drive.

The cab dropped me off in front of an apartment building. I made my way to the fifth apartment. I made it all the way to the third floor when I saw a cat wearing a hat and a coat. He looked at me and froze. It didn’t take a second before he started running.

I ran after him, following through alleys and parking lots. He was fast and clearly knew the city like the back of his paw. I was having difficulty keeping up.

We reached an alley with a chain-link fence and he was climbing it when I managed to pull him down and he fell to the ground. I grabbed him by his shirt’s collar ready to punch him, when I saw his face.

“Scratch?”

“Let me go Sam, I don’t want any part in this.”

“95 Orchid Drive, is that…”

“She sent you, didn’t she?”

He had stopped struggling, but he was not in a cooperative mood.

“I know about the gemstones. I know about the coverup. I still don’t know why they’re…”

“Yes you do.”

I paused. I had a pretty good guess. Scratch seemed to confirm it was more than a good guess. “They don’t want the authorities involved.”

Scratch nodded. I realized then that Scratch didn't just know more than I'd assumed—if he was running, he had to know something dangerous.

“You know where the stones are, don’t you?”

He nodded again. Even in a lonely alley, he seemed afraid to speak. If I wanted answers, I’d have to ask them directly.

“Where are the stones?”

He looked everywhere, put his paws on his face. I could tell he didn’t want to talk.

“Scratch, I need to find the stones. Please tell me, where are…”

“They’re at the Angora Inn. In the VIP Suite.”

The face he made. It was like it hurt him to say it.

I tried to make sense of it. Did the Pawsworths actually have the gemstones? Was there no coverup? How could they be at the Angora Inn?

“I don’t understand… why are the stones there?”

“Because I put them there.”

It was the first time he looked me in the eyes. The first time his voice didn’t sound scared.

He must have known I was trying to fix the puzzle in my mind, he added: “I stole the Eclipse Gemstones, Sam.”

End Act Four

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

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Episode Three

Santiago Raúl Bigotez had to go to the first floor. He got in the elevator and had just pressed the button with his destination when Minina Esmeralda Maullido got in. Santiago had never seen Minina before but knew instantly that he liked her. With no good reason to start a conversation, he had to improvise:

“So, nice day today, isn’t it?”

Santiago was actually not really good at improvising.

“What’s with cats asking me if it’s a nice day today?”

“Haha, sorry. Just wanted to make conversation.”

The elevator seemed to be taking forever as it slowly closed.

“Please, don’t.”

The door closed.

His strategy had failed. But improvisation wasn’t the only thing Santiago wasn’t good at, he was also particularly deficient at taking hints.

“Hey come on, it’s good to get to know your coworkers better! We don’t have to be all stuck up like HR was listening to our every word.” He laughed at his own joke, then asked Minina: “So, what account do you work for?”

“HR”, she replied dryly.

Santiago’s smile faded.

He might have been bad at many things, but there was one thing he was good at, and that was staying quiet after realizing he had said the wrong thing to the wrong kitty girl.

The elevator door opened on the third floor and he got out as other cats got in. The other elevator was slowly on its way up. It would take a while before it went back down. Santiago decided it was a good day to take the stairs.

As it turns out, extreme embarrassment was an excellent motivation to increase one's daily physical activity.

Minina got out on the second floor, where the HR offices were located. Unfortunate conversations aside, Minina wasn’t having a great day, and her mood was a reflection of it.

She hoped this was her last trip back and forth between the fourth and second floor. Her first “official” day of work and it had been an absolute mess so far.

Looking back, the signs were there since morning.

It had been a turbulent Monday morning. Daily Kitty Promotion LLC was growing and filling the four floors of the building fast. Minina herself had just started three weeks ago.

The first two weeks were for onboarding and training and she was excited to start until today—Monday of the third week—when the first thing her computer decided to do was install updates.

“It’ll only take a few minutes”, the computer promised. The computer must not have known the principles of over-promising and under-delivering. What took only a few minutes was Minina losing her patience after the computer restarted and closed some documents without saving them to the cloud. After it came back it proudly announced new features—none that Minina needed.

It was the first incident of what would become Minina’s battle against technology.

Trying to make sure her documents would be saved in the cloud, Minina consulted her CatGPT assistant to see why her files didn’t synchronize. CatGPT told her to check her security settings.

“There are security features disabled”, said the notification in her security settings. Minina contacted the IT hotline as any responsible kitty should.

“So, is this going to fix the synchronization issues with the cloud?” Minina asked Humberto Grrregorio Torres, the IT cat.

“No, that’s probably an issue with your VPN.”

Every other issue added another “few” minutes of troubleshooting and not a single minute of work done.

Humberto confirmed that the VPN was working, the cloud was synchronizing and everything was working correctly. Finally.

It was a rough start but surely it couldn’t get worse. All she had to do now was print some contracts for some cats getting promotions. No big deal.

She went to the printer room in the second floor and… it had a network error. She contacted Humberto again, he asked her to open a ticket and informed her there was a printer working on the fourth floor.

Minina took a deep breath and tried to be positive. Things were not great at work but at least she’d get to see her father after he had been away on business trips the last few weeks. Just the thought of dinner with him and her family was comforting. And Rugelio Ricardo Tigrano would be there too.

But it was still Monday morning. She created the ticket IT needed, went to the fourth floor to print the contracts and came back ready to start receiving cats who had just received promotions.

On any other day, she’d be joyous at seeing others succeeding and being promoted, but with hours of work behind and a growing number of IT issues, she was more focused on catching up than on celebrating.

That went on for most of the day. Back and forth between the fourth floor and the second floor every time she needed to print another contract. By the time Santiago awkwardly tried to make conversation, Minina had probably used the elevator more times in one day than any other kitty did in a whole week.

But as she made that last trip, she had only one thing on her mind: dinner time.

Minina left her office feeling some relief. She had already printed, organized and filed all the contracts she’d need the next day. Monday might have been a nightmare, but it was over. Tuesday was going to be a better day.

She had to stay a couple of hours after her shift, but she felt it was worth it if it meant not having to deal with the unforeseen consequences of technological malfunctions. Her phone buzzed.

She was about to order a Lypspspst to go home when she got a call. It was Fabiola Gatalia Pinzón, HR Manager and more importantly, Minina’s boss.

“Minina, we have a problem.”

“Is it urgent? I was on my way out…”

“It is urgent. I just got a call from the Whitmore account. They say Miauricio Leonidas Felinez’s contract is the wrong contract.”

Minina felt like her soul left her body. “That can’t be, I’m sure I gave him the Whitmore contract.”

“You did, it was the Whitmore contract… but it was an outdated one.”

Minina’s soul came back to her body to scream all the curse words Minina’s mouth couldn’t let out. The synchronization issues.

She ran back to the elevator. Started pressing the “2” button repeatedly as if pressing it more times made the elevator come down faster. It didn’t.

The elevator came down, then back up to the second floor and Minina checked the contract. A whole section was missing. A whole section she had updated and ironically, the computer deleted with its own updates.

Frantically, she turned on the computer. She tried to enter her credentials and couldn’t login. Tried again. Another error.

Tried again, a message: “Your account is locked. Contact IT to unlock it.”

Minina had never felt so much irrational hate towards an inanimate object as she felt towards her computer at that moment.

She pulled her phone and searched for Humberto on the corporate chat app. Humberto was offline.

Her paws covered her face. She called Fabiola back.

“Fabiola, I can’t access my computer, it’s locked.”

“Does anyone else have that contract, Minina?”

Minina didn’t even need to think hard about it. “No, I don’t think so. Grrraciela Miauriana Oreiro sent me the section that needed to be updated, but I had the contract.”

“That contract is urgent. Whitmore is one of our most important accounts and they need their legal team to approve it. We need that tomorrow, first hour at the latest.”

“What do I do about my computer?”

“I’ll open a ticket with IT for you and ask them to contact you.”

Minina sat down holding back tears. She hated her computer, hated the Whitmore account and hated Miauricio Felinez.

Her phone rang. It was her mom.

“Minina, where are you? Dinner is ready and even Rugelio is here now.”

“I’m sorry mom, I had to come back…”

“Come back? Why? What happened?”

“There was an error with a promotion contract… I need to rewrite it and reprint it…”

“Look at the hour, Minina. Are they going to pay you overtime?”

“No…” Minina heard her mom talking with Gatarina Celestina Maullido on the back. When her mom was back she continued. “It’s not overtime because it’s kind of my fault… I gave this tomcat an outdated contract the account had asked to update the policies for, their Purrcess Manager sent them to me, but I lost the changes when my computer installed updates. Now my computer is locked, my boss is creating a ticket with IT but I need to update that contract today because it needs to be ready tomorrow first time in the morning. I’m also scared now because what if the computer is locked tomorrow? I need to fix this today má.”

Minina could hear her mom talk with Gatarina again, misquoting half of what Minina was saying.

She could even hear her father, Gatarina and even Rugelio talk in the back. Her mom came back, “Dinner is getting cold, Mini, but we can wait.”

“It’s no use má. They haven’t even fixed the printer…”

As she said that, she saw an incoming call. It was IT.

“Má, I have to go, IT is calling. Look, don’t wait for me. It’s not fair for pá to eat a cold dinner because of me. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Minina hung up with her mom, picked up IT’s call and they managed to get Minina back online.

Minina checked the contract, the section Grrraciela sent was missing and there weren’t other versions saved. She updated the contract and prepared for yet another trip to the fourth floor.

Minina finally arrived home. The Lypspspst trip was a silent one, she spent the whole trip listening to her “Sad/Angry” playlist trying to not think about her family having dinner without her.

She made her way to the door, pulled her keys out of her purrse and opened the door. She could hear some voices, her father and Rugelio. Then a pause. She went to the dining room and saw Rugelio on one knee.

“Gatarina, will you marry me?”

Minina froze.

“Yes, Rugelio. Yes.” Gatarina said while throwing herself in his arms.

Minina stepped back, away from the dining room, as she heard her mom and dad congratulate Gatarina on the happiest day of her life.

End of Episode Four

Now we have the other side of the story. Minina’s side.

Minina had a pretty bad day at the same time her sister was having a really good day. Incredibly unlucky.

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Last week we learned about the valuable stolen object and the powerful cats it was stolen from.

Detective Sam Sharpe is investigating where are the… Eclipse Gemstones!

Monday, August 17

Tuesday, August 18

Wednesday, August 19

Thursday, August 20

Friday, August 21

Saturday, August 22

Sunday, August 23

This is Act Three of an ongoing story. If you missed Act Two, read it here:

Act Two

If you want to go to the beginning, go here:

Act One

Act Three: Careless Whispurrs

I tried to reconstruct the latest events trying to make sense of them.

It was Sunday when I got Purrnelope’s message. That whole day I spent trying to find out who Scratch was, and it was evening when I finally had a conversation with him.

Now it was Monday and the first thing I did this morning was get the Weekly Whiskers Scratch pointed me to.

Weekly Whiskers is a weekly publication, it comes out every Friday, and they published the “coverup” story last Friday. Two days before I got Purrnelope’s note.

The original report I read on the Feline Chronicle came out on a Saturday, the week before. Which meant the theft of the gemstones had to have happened Friday night. Exactly one week before the coverup story.

So today being Monday, the Eclipse Gemstones had been missing for about ten days, and counting. It was still early afternoon and I finally had something to investigate.

I got in touch with my informant. Oscat, a kitty with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing exactly which alleys keep their secrets and which ones give them away, for a price.

The Pawsworth Estate was on the outskirts of the city. Oscat gave me a list of places the gemstones could have ended up if the thief was from that zone. If the thief was an enemy of the family though, this list could be useless.

But a start is a start.

After the first four dead ends, I was running out of names and patience in equal measure.

I wasn’t getting any closer to learning more about the sapphires or about Purrnelope.

You’d think after all these years with her in my heart, I’d know everything about her. Yet she lives both stuck to my heart and outside my reach.

A mystery lover. You know you love her, and yet, learning about her makes you see: you know nothing about her.

It was getting late and I had only one place left to go. A restoration studio.

The studio was the kind of place you’d only find if somebody sent you there on purpose—quiet street, no sign worth reading, exactly where you’d take something you didn’t want noticed.

The restorer looked elegant enough. I asked him about the stones, his response was swift.

“A twin-gem piece? No, nothing like that’s crossed my table.”

I’d heard that line four times already that day. I almost turned to leave when…

“What’s the deal with these twin-gems anyway? Everyone keeps asking about those stones. Pawlice, reporters, businesscats. You’re not even the strangest cat to walk in here this week.”

Finally. A clue.

“Strangest how?”

The restorer studied me for a moment with the kind of look that weighs whether a stranger’s worth the risk. I almost felt flattered when he decided I was worth it.

“Strange enough I’m not talking about it for free.”

So much for feeling flattered. But I had to know.

I put enough on the counter to loosen a tongue and not enough to buy a lie. The restorer counted it without touching it, then nodded once, like the sum had passed some private test.

“Cat came in a while back. Wanted to know what it’d cost me to backdate a receipt. A polishing job that never happened. Wanted my signature on it too.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“Didn’t feel right. Too much risk, not enough reward.”

“Did you get a name?”

“Didn’t need one. Cat is a celebrikitty by association. Never in the spotlight, but always next to it.” The restorer paused, still studying my reaction, then finished in what was almost a whispurr: “Always next to Reginald Pawsworth III.”

I started thinking about all the pictures of Reginald Pawsworth III. In most of them he’d be with his wife or with a famous cat, I had to think about a cat that was always close enough to Reginald, but never with the spotlight on him. I tried to get more information from the restorer.

“Anything else?”

“Just that he seemed very eager to get it done real quiet. You know… the kind of eager that says more than the actual ask does.”

I thanked the restorer and left the studio almost feeling like I owed him more than I paid. The information was better than I expected, it confirmed some of my suspicions.

The Pawsworths were indeed, trying to coverup a crime.

I still didn’t know why. My suspicion was that the stones must still be missing, which is why Purrnelope alerted me to it. Scratch also said it, “Something very valuable was stolen from some very important, and very dangerous cats.”

My other suspicion was that the Pawsworths wanted the authorities off their trail. But why? What were they hiding? Who were they trying to protect?

It was late, but I thought there was one place that could still whispurr answers. I made it to the Angora Inn a little after six, found a seat at the bar, and waited.

I had a great view of the lobby and some of the administrative offices, including Barnaby Clawford’s office. We didn’t hit it off the first time we met, but I had to wonder if visiting him now that I knew about Pawsworths involvement could reveal new clues.

I ordered a coffee to stay alert. I needed to have my eyes everywhere. At least, that was the plan.

The lights dimmed. Purrl Holiday took the small stage near the bar, and the whole room seemed to lean toward her at once. I knew the stage had no clues, but when it came to being lost in the beauty of a kitty girl, my eyes had a mind of their own.

She wasn’t wearing the shiny red dress of the other night. She was wearing a shiny amber dress. She sang a romantic song that for a moment made me think love wasn’t just fiction.

I suspected her eyes locked on mine at least a couple of times during the first song. My suspicions were confirmed as she announced the second song.

“Some prefer songs about cold nights or freezing moons, but you know a beautiful kitty girl’s place is on a sunny beach”. Her eyes never left mine while saying this. “This next song is ‘Summer days, kitty days.’”

She sang and danced like she owned the night. No, like the night had surrendered to her.

I wouldn’t have realized the set was done if she hadn’t announced it was the last song. Was it five songs? Was it a hundred? I couldn’t tell.

She found me after the set, same easy confidence as the first night. All I could hope was that I hadn’t blepped the whole show.

“So, did you like the show? Or was it too hot for you… Freezing Moon?”

She raised an eyebrow when she said that. She also raised my heartrate.

“I knew you were talented, and I still think I underestimated how talented you were.”

“Is that a compliment? Don’t answer, I’ll take it as one.”

It was good she didn’t let me answer, truth is, I wasn’t sure myself. I only flirt with kitty girls for one of two reasons: to have them tell me what I want to hear, or because I can’t help myself from telling them what they want to hear.

I wasn’t sure which one it was right now. I hadn’t planned asking her anything about Pawsworth, and I also hadn’t planned on getting involved with her… or her getting involved with me.

Focus Sam.

“You like purrforming here?… working for Pawsworth?”, I asked, trying to lead the conversation back to what I came for.

Something shifted behind her eyes. Careful, but not closed off.

“I love the Angora Inn, it’s the type of place I always dreamt of purrforming at. I haven’t seen Mr. Pawsworth in over a week.”

Over a week? So Pawsworth hadn’t been at the Inn since the theft? I had to be smooth.

“I would have thought the owner of the place would want to see your purrformance, I mean, it’s one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.”

So much for smooth…

She giggled.

“I think he did want to see my show two weeks ago for the gala. Not just him, the whole family and a big list of guests.”

Two weeks ago. That was when the gemstones were stolen. Was Pawsworth at the Inn at the time of the crime?

“That sounds like a tragedy… missing what must have been a fantastic event.”

“Friday was supposed to be the most important night. Mr. and Mrs. Pawsworth were here, young Milo couldn’t come because of an illness, but Miss Hunt came looking radiant as always.”

My heart stopped for a moment. Miss Hunt… could that be, Purrnelope Hunt?

I had to know more about that night.

“Friday? I think I read something in the news… was it…” I intentionally trailed off hoping she’d pick up on it.

“The alarm went off at the Pawsworth Estate.”

She didn’t disappoint. But she was going with the coverup story. I had to go back to that night.

“Oh, I thought something had been stolen.”

“That’s what we believed on Friday. One minute I’m getting ready to take the stage, next thing I know the whole family’s gone and half the staff looks like they’ve seen a ghost.” She studied me a beat too long. “Good thing it was a false alarm.”

I had to be careful. Her going with the coverup story could mean she was being deceived like everybody else was… or she was part of the coverup. My mind went back to its usual clarity, could Purrl’s interest in me have a dangerous motivation?

That’s what happens when you overestimate your charm Sam. Had to find a way out of the conversation.

“Good thing it was a false alarm, and now they should be able to come see the show.”

“They will. This Thursday, for the second gala.”

“Second gala? What’s the celebration?”

“What they couldn’t finish celebrating for the first. Reginald never got to make his announcement the first time around, and cats like that don’t let go of an announcement easy.”

Announcement? Purrl had mentioned Milo Pawsworth and Purrnelope together… could they?

I couldn’t let my emotions betray me at a time like this. I didn’t want to make it too obvious, but I had to know.

“I’m sorry, I’m not up to date with all the pawssip. What announcement?” I was hoping my laugh sounded natural, not tortured.

“The opening of the second Angora Inn, of course.”

Of course…

So the Friday when the gemstones were stolen, the whole family was at the Inn for a gala to announce the opening of a new hotel. Well, the whole family except for Milo Pawsworth who was sick.

But something didn’t quite fit in now. If Purrnelope was at the Angora Inn at the time of the crime, how was she involved in it?

Why was she in danger?

I didn’t want to alert Purrl to my real intentions. I tried to end the conversation and assuming her interests weren’t aligned with Pawsworth, I had to keep her on my side.

“If Thursday’s gala is going to be half as good as today, I should come again.”

“Oh darling, your pretty face might get you almost anywhere, but Thursday’s gala is a private event. It’s reserved for investors, press and the family.”

“That’s a shame. And here I was thinking I could… meet with a friend again on Thursday.”

She smiled.

“A friend? How many friends do you have here?”

“Right now? Just the one.” I said while locking eyes with her, hoping that did the trick.

“You want to get me in trouble, handsome?” her eyes locked with mine. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Sameowl Sharpe, but you can call me Sam.”

“I have to go Sam. It was nice meeting you. Come here tomorrow morning, Mr Pawsworth will be here, I might be able to introduce you as my new… friend.”

The way she talked. She didn’t have to sing every word to get under my skin.

She walked away and I couldn’t look away.

I came to the Angora Inn looking for clues. I found them. And as with every kitty girl I meet, I found a whole lot of trouble too.

End of Act Three

Act Four

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

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Episode Two

There was resistance at first, when Rugelio Ricardo Tigrano asked for a specific type of desk and design in his office. He knew modern offices went for more neutral, “sterile” style, but he also knew his desk had to be real wood and no substitute was good enough.

Numerous times someone tried to persuade him about something that fit better with “the times”, and Rugelio wouldn’t budge. He knew from his father that getting what you want sometimes means saying “no” to what others want. If a designer said the styles clashed or “didn’t work together”, Rugelio’s answer was simple: “Make it work.”

And make it work they did. With enough subtlety and restraint, the Meowdern Purrfection, Inc. president’s office looked both modern and classic. Now, Rugelio sat in the desk of his choice and the chair of his choice. What wasn’t his choice, was the meeting with Andrés Emilio Zarpazo, VP of Markittying and Rugelio’s best friend since Meowxford.

“All I’m saying is that, we haven’t had anything as big as you being named Weekly Whiskers’ Bachelor of the Year in a while…”

“If your strategy to keep Meowdern Purrfection relevant is to continue milking my bachelor image then I’ll have to get a new VP of Markittying”. Rugelio’s deadpan delivery would have had anykitty else in a zoomies attack, but not Andrés.

“Ouch, and here I was thinking pawlicking was a good thing.”

“Make no mistake. I agreed to do that because you said it would work—which it did, but the spotlight is more of a you thing”. Rugelio’s tolerance for banter was limited during working hours. “So, unless you have a strategy to become this year’s Weekly Whiskers’ Bachelor of the Year yourself, I’m done talking about that.”

Andrés knew when to stop pushing. But knowing how much traffic Rugelio generated, he still dared to ask: “If things go right in the dinner…”

“That’s off the table”. His tone didn’t even change. It didn’t have to.

It was the end of that professional conversation, but not of the friend’s conversation. Andrés pivoted, “I’m sorry Ruge, I hope you know that although I get carried away, I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks, Andrés. I know you are. Just, let me keep this night private”. Rugelio’s tone changed this time. Still firm, but with an undertone of vulnerability reserved for only those closest to him.

“You gotta call me after though, don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”

The two cats rose from their chairs, bro-hugged, and as Andrés made his exit, Rugelio added: “I’ll call you even if you deserve the suspense.”

“You’re ruthless”. Andrés laughed.

“You don’t get to where I am any other way”. Rugelio snapped back.

“That’s why I’m happy where I am…” Andrés’ voice faded as the door slowly closed behind him.

With Andrés out of the office, Rugelio pulled his phone out and sent her a message.

Gatarina Celestina Maullido’s phone buzzed.

With the last of the students out of the classroom, Gatarina realized she hadn’t had a proper conversation with Rugelio all day. She responded.

She sent Rugelio a selfie. He reacted with a heart.

As she made her way out, Gatarina saw Laura Pantericia “Panty” Garrido, the Purrtuguese teacher also on her way out.

“Como foi seu primeiro dia?”

“Muito bem”, Gatarina said shyly.

“Really good, Gatarina! I’ll let you cover for me next time!”

“Oh please no, Panty. Those are the only two words I could teach those poor kitties.”

Both teachers laughed. They walked together and reached the parking lot. Gatarina stood at the entrance and got close to Panty to say goodbye, when Panty stopped her. “Why are you standing there, don’t you have a car?”

“Not yet, I was going to order a Lypspspst and wait outside.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home, it’s on 22 Acatcia Ave.”

“That’s East, isn’t it? I can drop you there on my way home. Come with me, more time to pawssip!”

They got in the car. And as they left the school, the conversation also moved away from whiteboards and hyperactive kitties.

“So, is there anyone waiting at home?”

Gatarina laughed. “No, not yet.”

“Oh, but there’s a tomcat then…”

“Yes, we’re going to have dinner today with my family. My dad travels a lot and he’s going to be home for a few weeks, and…”

“Dinner with the family? Sounds serious then!”

“I mean… we’ve been dating for a few months.”

“What’s his name?”

“Rugelio.”

“Rugelio, that’s hilarious. Does he get confused with Rugelio Tigrano a lot?” Panty said before laughing heartily.

Gatarina contained her laugh. “Actually…”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Big Time Bachelor!”, said Fernando Minino Maullido as he opened the door to Rugelio.

“Not you too, Don Fernando…” Rugelio shook Don Fernando’s paw and laughed more out of mortified respect than amusement.

“He’s been waiting to make that joke for hours”. Gatarina kissed Rugelio. “Come in now!”

Inside the house, Ana Dolores de la Michinidad was on the phone. “Are they going to pay you overtime?”

“What’s going on, má?” asked Gatarina.

“It’s Minina, says she’s still working.”

“But it’s so late!”

“Something about having to stay late because they needed to rewrite some promotion contracts.”

“How’s that her fault? Tell her to come.”

“She says it was kind of her fault. She gave a tomcat an outdated contract and she didn’t realize the account had changed some of the policies.”

Minina Esmeralda Maullido, Gatarina’s sister. She had also just recently started working at a new company. Rugelio knew Gatarina’s mom wanted to have the whole family together for the dinner. He also wanted the whole family present. He tried to be helpful: “Doña Ana, tell her we can wait for her.”

“She’s really upset now. Something about her computer being locked.”

Doña Ana kept talking with Minina, Don Fernando, Gatarina and Rugelio went to the living room while they waited.

“So what’s the name of this dreadful company that forces their employees to work extra hours without compensation?” asked Rugelio in a judgmental tone.

“Daily Kitty Promotion, I think”, replied Gatarina.

“Tell me you’re not serious.”

“What’s wrong with Daily Kitty Promise?” asked Don Fernando.

“Promotion, pá. Daily Kitty Promotion.”

“They’re a relatively new company but they’re a direct competitor of Meowdern Perfection”, shared Rugelio. “Clearly Minina couldn’t end up in a worse place.”

Rugelio took advantage of the opportunity to vent professional grievances with Daily Kitty Promotion, calling them a collective of amateurs who thought they could get away with silly writing and kitty pictures alone.

Doña Ana walked into the living room with her head down. “She says it’s no use, she’ll be late for dinner. She’s with IT trying to unlock her computer.”

“I wouldn’t let something like that happen at my company.”

“Rugelio, can you not?” said Gatarina poking Rugelio with her elbow.

“I’m sorry, Doña Ana.”

“Well dear, what should we do?” asked Don Fernando.

“Dinner is going to get cold, you must be hungry Fernando. And Rugelio can’t be here all night! Let’s eat. I’ll save some for Minina.”

Dinner was delightful. Don Fernando and Rugelio would talk business and Gatarina would often interject with observations that made both cats wonder why she chose education over law or finance.

Watching the two cats at the table fall into easy conversation, seeing her mom happy, still in love with her husband despite the distance and the years, Gatarina felt… fortunate.

Then, she noticed Rugelio looking back and forth between her and her dad. He had been unusually quiet too, mostly listening to Don Fernando.

Don Fernando must have caught it too, as he joked: “I know, I know, I’ve been talking non-stop and you and Gatarina might want some alone time before you go…”

“That’s not… I’m sorry Don Fernando, I just think there’s never going to be a perfect time, is there?”

All the eyes turned to Rugelio.

“Gatarina”, Rugelio said standing up. “I had a whole speech planned”, and for the first time all evening—purrhaps the first time she’d ever seen—his composure slipped.

Doña Ana covered her mouth with her paws, Don Fernando couldn’t contain his smile. Gatarina’s heart felt like it could pop out of her chest.

Rugelio had closed the distance between him and Gatarina. He dropped to one knee.

“Gatarina, will you marry me?”

End of Episode Three

Episode Four

A quick paw-ssary 🐾

Como foi seu primeiro dia? / Muito bem: Portuguese for “How was your first day? / Very good.” The full extent of Gatarina’s Portuguese vocabulary, by her own admission.

Má / pá: Casual shortenings of “mamá” and “papá”—Spanish for “mom” and “dad.”

A very eventful evening! We got to meet Gatarina’s parents and Rugelio proposed!

Minina missed everything though. She’s not going to be happy.

Did you have a favorite moment?

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Last week we finally learned the detective’s name, his lost lover’s name, and we learned who Scratch was.

Yet despite everything we learned, it seems there’s still more that remains a mystery.

This week, we follow the only lead provided by Scratch in Act Two: Where There’s Smoke, There’s Sapphire.

Monday, August 10

Tuesday, August 11

Wednesday, August 12

Thursday, August 13

Friday, August 14

Saturday, August 15

Sunday, August 16

This is Act Two of an ongoing story. If you missed Act One, read it here:

Act One

Act Two: Where There’s Smoke, There’s Sapphire

I couldn’t sleep that night. The thing haunting me this time wasn’t just a memory, it was a deep uncertainty: where was she?

The note had to be hers… the refrain, and Scratch confirming it, it couldn’t be a coincidence. And yet, I still didn’t know anything about her whereabouts or what trouble she was in this time.

Purrnelope. There was a reason why she was the sun to my moon—she had the power to burn everything to the ground with nothing but a wink and a smile, and here I was, like a moth to her flame.

The coffee was perfectly hot and bitter. What I needed to get me going.

I wasn’t any closer to her than when I started but if my feline instinct didn’t fail me, the sands of time, for her, were running low.

I needed more info. More clues.

Scratch’s voice kept looping in my head. “Don’t follow her. Follow what she’s after.”

Following what she’s after is what made our paths diverge—what drove her away from me. Cryptic advice from a cat who swings his razor on throats for a living. I should’ve expected nothing less.

I also hadn’t stopped thinking about the other thing he said, the one that sounded like deflection: “I hear Meowxine Sapphire was on this week’s Weekly Whiskers.”

It couldn’t be deflection. Everything out of his mouth had an edge to it, even the small talk.

But this is what had my mind racing: Meowxine Sapphire was at the Angora Inn the day I met Scratch. Why would Scratch point me to an article of hers on Weekly Whiskers? How was she involved in this?

One thing was sure though: The secrecy wasn’t a coincidence, it was the rule at the Angora Inn. Maybe that’s why I was here: she found a place that held as many secrets as her heart.

I remember when we held the keys to our hearts. I used her keys looking for warmth, she used my keys to steal everything. Purrhaps not everything, since I’m willingly holding the doors for her again.

Just what are you after, Purrnelope?

I had to get my paws on that dreadful publication.

I found the newsstand outside the Angora Inn and asked the fella running it for the latest issue.

The cover talked about an affair, not Meowxine Sapphire. Did I have the wrong issue?

“Does this have anything on Meowxine Sapphire?”

He didn’t even blink. “No, I don’t think there’s been anything about her in a while. That kitty girl was everywhere a couple of weeks ago when her new movie came out, but there’s been nothing about her recently.”

Nothing about Meowxine Sapphire in a while. Makes sense, if she was at the Angora Inn yesterday, that means Scratch was directing me to the magazine, not the celebrikitty.

I quickly went over the headers, most of them were announcements for new movies, all types of pawssip and braincellrot disguised as opinion pieces. And among all that, five columns that stood out.

I figured going back to the Angora Inn would be beneficial to my investigation. The place smelled like trouble. One more thing it had in common with Purrnelope.

I sat down at the lobby and read the columns. They all had something about a crime or uniquely important cats. But there had to be one Scratch wanted me to read.

Time to put those detective skills to the test.

The divorce column gave me nothing but two rich cats fighting over a diamond collection neither of them actually wanted anymore—a petty disagreement over something neither cat wanted the other one to have. The entertainment page gave me a recast actor and a movie called The Golden Paw, inspired by a heist I’d never heard of and had no reason to care about yet. The business page gave me a lawsuit over emeralds that might not have even been real.

Then I got to the fourth column, and the lobby went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with the Angora Inn’s usual crowd.

“Pawsworth”, that name rang a bell. I read the article again.

A missing item. Police on the scene. Then, days later, a brother’s forgetful errand explains it all away, and everyone involved is suddenly very eager to stop discussing it. It was too… convenient.

Rich cats lose things. Rich cats find them again. That’s usually where the story ends, and most readers would’ve turned the page right there.

I wasn’t most readers. And “Pawsworth” wasn’t a name I was hearing for the first time.

Something was clear, I had to go back to my office. I stood up and was about to leave when I saw her come in—Purrl Holiday—the singer from the night before.

It was hard to recognize her at first in regular clothes. I had only ever seen her wearing a shiny red dress.

“I didn’t see you at the show last night, was it because I didn’t sing anything about a freezing moon?”

“That’s not... I had to meet with a friend”. It felt like a lie even if it wasn’t technically a lie.

“I see”. Her voice was something between skepticism and disappointment. “Do you have to meet with that friend again tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

“I’ll see you tonight then. If it works better for you, think of it as... meeting a friend.”

She was already leaving as she said those words. I hated to admit it took more will than expected to not follow behind her, but I managed to leave the Angora Inn.

I finally got back to my office. I poured a coffee.

I dug through the stack of week-old papers piled behind my desk—the ones I never throw out, on the theory that everything eventually comes back around if you wait long enough. Funny how Purrnelope coming back proved the theory true.

Didn’t take a lot of digging. Found what I was looking for on page six of a local paper nobody reads for anything but the obituaries. The one I read to ease my heart every time her name doesn’t make it there.

There it was. A break-in at the Pawsworth estate.

No suspects. Ongoing. And then, less than a week later, the same family telling a very different, very tidy story to a gossip magazine instead of the police.

The Eclipse Gemstones, a Moon Sapphire and a Sun Sapphire. I had to give it to Scratch, that was a clever way to point me to it.

Moon and sun. Of course it was moon and sun.

I sat with that for a while, long enough for my coffee to go cold the way everything in my life eventually does.

Scratch said some very valuable was stolen from some very important cats. The Pawsworth’s were businesscats of the highest order. If my memory served right, they were film producers and—most importantly for this case—the owners of the Angora Inn.

If my feline instinct was right, those gemstones were still missing. And if my feline instinct was right, Purrnelope had something to do with those missing gemstones.

I was about to get involved with some very dangerous cats all for the promise of another heartbreak. My beautiful, ever-burning heartbreak.

I grabbed the Weekly Whiskers again. Milo Pawsworth’s line stuck with me most. “I should have left a note.” Written like an apology to an associate, not a confession to the law.

A cat covering for someone, and not particularly well.

I didn’t know who Milo Pawsworth was to Purrnelope yet. But two gemstones named after the same two things she used to call us, showing up in a story somebody wanted buried fast—that wasn’t a coincidence I was willing to write off.

Time to find out who Milo Pawsworth really was, and what he was covering for.

The note said “Trust no one”. Even without the warning, I knew I couldn’t just go straight to ask Pawsworth about the Eclipse Gemstones or Purrnelope.

“Follow what she’s after”. That was it. If Purrnelope was after the sapphires, I had to find them first. If the family was trying to cover up the disappearance of the gemstones, they had to do more than prepare a press conference.

The question was, were they trying to cover the disappearance because they had the gemstones, or because they wanted to take care of whoever took the stones themselves?

I know some powerful families put on these shows so the authorities stop following the same trail the family is following, and so no one interferes in their own way to administer… justice.

I had to find those stones. That moon and that sun.

My beautiful sun was already eclipsing my better judgment. Then again, when has judgment ever stood a chance against her?

Any time she’s at the stand, it’s you who gets a sentence.

And I’m still serving mine.

End of Act Two

Act Three

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

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Episode One

First success of the day. Ronromeo Gabriel Felinez was in school with four minutes to spare, and Miauricio Leonidas Felinez was now getting to work. With more than four minutes to spare.

Daily Kitty Promotion LLC occupied four floors of a building that smelled permanently of coffee and disinfectant spray, and Miauricio walked into it every morning like it was a red carpet. MCE or Main Cat Energy, he’d call it.

“You’re late”, his best friend Santiago Raúl Bigotez said, not looking up from his screen.

“Where? In Purrtugal? I’m eleven minutes early. Check your paw-watch Santi.”

“You’re late for Grrraciela. She came by to say hi and looked very sad that her ‘Miauri’ wasn’t here.” Santiago said in a mocking tone.

Grrraciela Miauriana Oreiro was a kitty girl who fancied Miauricio. Miauricio on the other paw, didn’t fancy Grrraciela quite as much.

“Oh dear, hopefully it wasn’t to ask me what I’m doing after work again.” Miauricio sat on Santiago’s desk. “I don’t know what else to come up with... should I start learning to play a meowsical instrument?”

“Or you know... you could just tell her you’re not interested. You’re not an illegally smol kitteh anymore Miau.”

“You know I’m not a heartbreaker...”

“Hard to break hearts when you always avoid them. Now get off my desk and please don’t drop anything off...”

Miauricio got off the desk but not before dropping off a stapler, then winked at Santiago. He then proceeded to drop into the chair across from his best friend’s desk and put his paws behind his head, the universal posture of a cat who wanted to be asked what was going on in his braincell, but wasn’t about to wait for anyone to ask before he said it anyway.

“Speaking of dropping off… I had to drop off Ronromeo. First day. Very emotional. There may have been a bow tie incident.”

“Was the incident that you don’t know how to tie one?”

“I know how to tie it the cool way.”

“So you don't know…”

Before Miauricio could say anything snappy, a voice cut in from the doorway, smooth and just a little too pleased with itself.

“Felinez. Big day, huh?”

Maximiauliano Rafael Garrazo leaned against the frame with the particular confidence of a cat who had already decided how the day was going to go and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up. He and Miauricio had started at Daily Kitty Promotion over three years ago, but Maximiauliano had started one month earlier than Miauricio. A fact Maximiauliano couldn’t let rest.

“Every day’s a big day if you think big, Max. That’s the energy I bring. I don’t have to purr to bring good vibes, you know?”

“Sure.” Maximiauliano’s smile didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “Heard there’s an announcement coming down from upstairs today. Nap division.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Figured it’d finally be my turn. Seniority and all.” He shrugged, like it barely mattered to him, which convinced absolutely nokitty. “But hey. Best kitty win.”

He left before Miauricio could respond. Probably intentionally.

“He’s been talking about it in the elevator for a week”, Santiago said. “‘Best kitty win. Best kitty win’.” He added mockingly. “Like he’s rehearsing the most insincere three-word speech in catstory.”

Santiago and Miauricio laughed. Then Miauricio added: “Bro thinks he’s going to get promoted, let him rehearse.”

Santiago gave him a look that suggested he knew exactly what Miauricio’s supervisor had already decided while Miauricio, apparently, did not.

With Maximiauliano out of the scene, Santiago and Miauricio carried on with their earlier conversation.

“Yeah, so as I was saying”, Miauricio said raising his voice dramatically. “It was Ronromeo’s first day of school. Something about Grace & Poise. These private schools, can you think of a more useless class?”

“Seriously? How does a cat even become graciouser and poise… poisou… poiseser?”

“Beats me. Maybe I need to ask his teacher.”

During the ten-minute break between Grace & Poise and Meowsic Appreciation, Gatarina Celestina Maullido noticed a small grey kitten sitting alone at the edge of the courtyard, watching the others chase something that may or may not have been a hairball. A mystery Gatarina was happy to let remain a mystery.

“What’s wrong? Not a fan of ball games?”

The kitten looked up, startled to be seen. “I… I don’t know…” The kitten paused for a second, not sure whether to say something or not. “It’s just… it’s hard to find someone to play with.” A second brief pause. “Everyone already has their… friends.”

“What about your friends?”

“I… I don’t have any…” A small shrug, the kind kittens do when they’re trying very hard not to seem bothered by something that is, in fact, bothering them enormously.

Gatarina crouched down to her level. “Well, that’s something we can fix very easily, actually.”

The kitten looked up at Gatarina. “Really? How so?”

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Juliana. Juliana Miauría Orozco, but everyone calls me Juli.”

“Nice to meet you, Juli, I’m teacher Gatarina Celestina Maullido.” Gatarina paused and smiled at Juli. “Want to be my friend?”

Juli’s eyes widened like she was seeing a Christmas tree for the first time, then she laughed timidly. “That’s silly, a grown cat can’t be friends with a kitten!”

Gatarina played along. “Who said that? There’s no rules to friendship. We can be friends Juli… I’m just not going to chase after that… ball.”

Both kitty girls laughed.

It wasn’t a fix. Gatarina knew Juli still needed to make friends with the other kittens. And still, Juli’s shoulders came down an inch or two, and that felt like enough for a Monday.

The bell rang. Recess was over. Time to go back to work.

Coffee break always felt too short to allow for the important things like hallway pawssip. Miauricio’s supervisor caught him in the hallway before he’d even made it back to his desk.

Bartolomé Nazario Rasguño had run the Nap Division for eleven years and had the permanently tired eyes of a cat who had personally reviewed more sleeping-kitten content than any living creature should. “Felinez. My office, eleven.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“You ARE the trouble, Felinez.” Rasguño was already walking away. “Eleven. Don’t be late.”

Miauricio and Santiago exchanged looks. Santiago pressed Miauricio. “Any idea what it could be?”

“Probably going to ask me about the progress on the Intermittent Napping Model. I told him it’d be ready next week, but you know how he is…”

“What if it’s not that?”

“Beats me. I haven’t been late, my deliverables are all on time… I have nothing to worry about and that’s all that matters”. Miauricio started pondering. “Maybe he needs help with a VLOOKUP for all I know.”

Santiago laughed. Partly for the truthfulness of the joke, and partly for the obliviousness of Miauricio.

It was eleven o’clock, and Rasguño’s office turned out to hold considerably better news than help with a VLOOKUP.

“Senior Nap Coordinator”, Rasguño said, sliding a printed offer letter across the desk like it was no big deal. “Effective today, Felinez. Bigger portfolio, bigger office, bigger headache, if we’re being honest”. As it turns out, it was actually, a big deal.

Miauricio stared at the letter like it had an active self-destruct countdown. “You’re serious.”

“I'm not paid to make jokes, Felinez.”

“I don’t know what to say… Thank you Mr. Rasguño. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got the Whitmore account now, and they’re a bunch of sleepyheads in that account.”

“Oh, is that Grrraciela Oreiro’s account?”

“Oh, you know her? She’s the Purrcess Manager of the account. You’re going to make a great team!”

“Yeah… anyway, thanks again for everything Mr. Rasguño. I won’t disappoint you”. Miauricio said while headed for the exit.

“I know you won’t Felinez. On your way, swing by HR. Minina, has the paperwork for your file. Boring stuff, contracts, all that. She’ll walk you through it.”

“Got it.”

Miauricio went down to the second floor where the HR offices were, and found Minina’s office by the sound of a stapler being used with considerably more force than the task required.

The nameplate on the desk read Minina Esmeralda Maullido. Having been in the company for over three years, Miauricio prided himself on knowing “everyone” at the company, and yet, the name didn’t ring a bell.

“Hi, I’m Miauricio Felinez”, he said, leaning in the doorway. “I’m told you have boring paperwork for me.”

She barely looked up. “That I do. Sit, this might take a minute or two.”

Miauricio sat, and feeling uncomfortable with the silence tried to make small talk. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

“Here’s the first one. This is directly with Daily Kitty Promotion and it’s about the role change and compensation change. Signature and date here, please.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before…”

“Understandable seeing how you don’t work in the HR team, Mr. Felinez. Now this is for the Whitmore account. Signature and date here.”

If there was something that made Miauricio feel more uncomfortable than silence, it was serious conversations. From the way she dressed to the way she engaged him, Minina didn’t seem interested in talking more than what was strictly necessary with Miauricio.

“Umm, I think I’m done.”

“Thanks Mr. Felinez. That’s all we needed from you. You can leave now.”

“Thanks”, he said, standing.

“Mm hmm”, and she was already back to whatever had been on her screen before he arrived.

The office-wide email went out at 2 p.m. sharp:

By 2:15, Maximiauliano had found him at the coffee machine.

“Congrats”, he said, in a tone that suggested the opposite. “Guess seniority’s not really the metric around here anymore.”

“What was that about best kitty win, again?”

“Yeah, well…” Maximiauliano poured his coffee and didn’t offer any further congratulations. “Enjoy the corner office, Felinez.”

As Maximiauliano left, Santiago approached ready to hug Miauricio. The day was almost done. Ronromeo was probably on his way home having learned more about Grace & Poise, and Miauricio had been promoted.

Not a bad way to start the week.

End of Episode Two

Episode Three

A good day for Miauricio! And more responsibility too!

Gatarina made a friend and Minina… didn’t. 😂

The cast is expanding in interesting ways. Want to discuss your favorite moments of the episode? Comments are always welcome!

Leave a comment

Want to relive the previous episode? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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This week I’m trying something different. This week it’s the first chapter in a longer mystery where we’re going to uncover the detective’s past!

We’re finally going to reveal who’s the detective’s lost love in a very dramatic case filled with secrets, intrigue and corruption.

I hope you like this week’s kitties and the story we start this week!

Monday, August 3

Tuesday, August 4

Wednesday, August 5

Thursday, August 6

Friday, August 7

Saturday, August 8

Sunday, August 9

Act One: Don’t Let the Moon Freeze

Sixteen hours of sleep. A cup of coffee finished. No interruptions yet.

I didn’t like it.

You’ll say, “Sameowl, isn’t that what you wanted? Uninterrupted sleep and coffee time?” And you’d be right, but experience says getting what I want leads to losing what I want.

I’m done arguing with experience.

Five knocks on the door. Not the type of knocking someone curious about my services would use. No, whoever had knocked was determined to see me, and that whoever was a small fella with striking eyes, paws inside an old coat that seemed a few sizes too big for him, and a cattitude so big it made the coat seem small. “You Sam Sharpe?”

He didn’t look threatening. I was suspicious regardless. “Who’s asking?”

“I got a letter for him, so if you’re not him I’ll be on my way.”

“Relax buddy, I’m Sharpe.”

He looked at me as if examining my features could prove whether I was telling the truth or not. After a second or two, he gave me an envelope and left without saying a word. There was nothing written on the envelope, but as soon as I opened it I knew who had sent it.

Her purrfume engulfed me in a flood of bittersweet memories. Purrnelope.

I read the note both knowing and not knowing what to expect. I knew what it wasn’t—I didn’t know what it could be.

Except, that’s not completely true. I knew one thing… whatever it was, it would reopen old wounds. Didn’t matter though, she had a perpetual license to wreck my heart and I wasn’t about to let my pain get in the way.

“Talk with Scratch at Angora Inn. Don’t let the moon freeze. Trust no one.”

And there it was—“Don’t let the moon freeze”—five words with the precision of a sniper’s bullet piercing through my heart in a fraction of a second.

Our romance had been a beautiful contradiction. She’d say I was ice and she was fire, I was the night and she was the day... I was the moon and she was the sun. She’d say that’s what brought us together.

She never told me what broke us apart.

Now I was reading a note, “Don’t let the moon freeze”, that was us—that was our refrain... well, half of it... my half.

I needed answers. Who was Scratch? And of all places, why the Angora Inn?

The Angora Inn was the most luxurious hotel in the city. It was known to be the favorite place of businesscats, cathletes, celebrikitties and pawliticians who loved indulging in the types of excess reserved for those whose currency was power.

I hated the place.

I’m happy investigating missing chorizos and shredded toilet paper. Getting involved with rich cats is a bad idea. The only bad ideas I follow wear dresses, eyeliner, and a floral purrfume that makes bedsheets and gravestones feel like home.

The type of bad idea that sends a former lover a note with cryptic instructions and half a refrain to pull at the strings of his heart—a pull so powerful it dragged me where the fanciest rot in the city gathered.

I entered the Angora Inn.

Some faces were familiar. Many of them made the cover of Weekly Whiskers on a regular basis. I could have sworn I’d seen Meowxine Sapphire surrounded by pawparazzi.

I couldn’t be a starlet like her. I hate having all eyes on me.

I knew Scratch had to be someone with close ties to the Inn. I started crossing out names until I had a final list. Five conversations waited for me inside.

First I tried with Barnaby Clawford, the lawyer. He wasn’t there to make cats follow the law, he was there to make the law stop following these cats. He was the type of fella Purrnelope would befriend but I didn’t know if he’d be the type she’d trust.

I mentioned a cold snap casually. No reaction, all he cared about was business. I moved on.

Next on my list, Jasmine Jackpawt, a gambler making a name for herself. Another kitty I could see being friends with Purrnelope. No reaction when I mentioned a pale moon, big reaction when her hand won.

She had better luck than me.

I tried Purrl Holiday and Pawl Ironclaw next, the singer and the security pawficer, and got the same results. Purrl though, she did mention a bright side… but I had to ask myself, was I following a lead or the sultriness of her words?

I had to keep looking. As it was, none of them had said it. Not really.

There was only one cat left: the barber.

He was more the type of cat I’d befriend. Hard working, no-nonsense, and cynical. Seemed to dislike the place as much as I did and claimed to be there only for the night.

I liked him on the spot.

But could he be Scratch? I was sure Scratch had to be a regular at the Inn, why would Purrnelope leave a message with someone just passing by?

Only one way to find out. I slid the refrain mid-conversation and I got my answer. An icy moon over a melting sun. Nokitty says that by accident, especially not somekitty who claims they’re only passing through.

But before I said anything, more cats came in. I had to wait.

Time for a coffee. I needed a break from the Angora Inn. I found a coffee shop nearby and started re-reading the note with the excuse of searching for clues.

Truth is, the note exhumed an exquisite corpse of memories created by two distinct souls. We’d joke that she was the light to my darkness—a lighthouse guiding my heart to hers.

But I know there was darkness in her too.

The note felt like I was at least a flashlight for her. Useful only when the surrounding light vanished—when she needed to be saved from being swallowed by the void.

The sun was setting. Time to have a chat with “Scratch”.

I went back. Same chair, same razor, same cynicism welcoming me.

“You knew”, I said. “Don’t let the moon freeze, or the sun melt. Those are not really your words, are they?”

“I doubted her when she said you’d come, yet here you are… Mr. Sharpe.”

“And I take it you’re…” before I finished, he interrupted me with a shush.

Scratch didn’t stop shaving. “Careful, pal. That’s a dangerous thing to know out loud”.

“I’m not looking for danger. I’m looking for her.”

The razor paused. Just for a second.

“Looking for her, looking for danger… isn’t that the same thing?”, Scratch said. “She told me to wait for a fella who talks about the moon like he’s talking about a long lost lover.”

That sounded like her. Sharp enough to cut, soft enough that you didn’t feel it till later.

“She’s in trouble”, Scratch said. “Something very valuable was stolen from some very important, and very dangerous cats.”

That also sounded like her.

Getting in trouble was her second nature. Making trouble fall in love with her was her first.

“Somekitty’s going to come looking for her”, Scratch went on. “Somekitty with a lot of money and not a lot of patience. She needs someone who already knows how she thinks. Someone who won’t ask the wrong questions.”

“That’s too bad. Asking the wrong questions is kind of my job.”

“Then you better be ready to lose one of your lives”. Scratch set the razor down. “Or see her lose one more of hers.”

Scratch’s cynicism had taken a turn for the ominous. I didn’t like ominous.

Just who did you cross now, Purrnelope? And whose side are you on this time?

“Where is she?”

“Don’t follow her. Follow what she’s after.”

“You’re not giving me a lot, buddy.”

“I hear Meowxine Sapphire was on this week’s Weekly Whiskers.”

“I don’t really read that…”

“You should.” Scratch interrupted me.

The cut was finished before I could get another word out.

“Before you go.” He looked me in the eyes. “Don’t let the sun melt.”

I paid for a haircut I didn’t need, and for information I didn’t comprehend.

But I knew one thing walking out that door I didn’t know walking in: whatever was stolen, and whoever it was stolen from, was big enough to have everyone afraid of being heard speaking about it.

I went back to my apartment. I knew this was the first in a series of rough nights. That’s what I get for one night of decent sleep.

And that’s why you don’t argue with experience.

End of Act One

Act Two

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

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Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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Gatarina Celestina Maullido had laid out three outfits on her bed the night before: midi dresses in soft gray, cream floral and sage-green; and cardigans in charcoal and cream. She had been particularly proud of reducing her wardrobe options to what seemed like three simple combinations and one simple choice: did she want to look refined and grounded, soft and approachable, or casual but elegant?

Simple combinations, and one simple choice answered by one simple question.

By six in the morning, she’d come up with at least a dozen more questions, and they kept multiplying. Somehow, the simple combinations and the single simple choice had turned into existential-dread-driven philosophy.

The worst type of philosophy.

Since when had an outfit choice become the most important decision of her life?

It wasn’t vanity. It was that after a year of borrowed classrooms and someone else’s lesson plans, of being the trusted substitute everyone was kind to and no one quite counted on, this was finally hers.

Her own class. Her own roster.

A little brass nameplate that would say G. C. Maullido — Grace & Poise, and not, for once, filling in for.

She grabbed the sage-green midi and the cream cardigan, decided the soft and approachable feel was the way to go for her first day, and told herself that was the last decision she’d agonize over that morning.

A lie, and she knew it, the same way she knew the folder of first-day materials on her desk wasn’t missing anything, yet it had already been reorganized four times since Sunday.

Grace and poise… she sure needed some of that poise she taught kittens about right now.

Her phone buzzed.

Kind of cheesy. Completely adorable.

She smiled at it, and was already halfway out the door before she’d finished reading her own reply.

Three streets over, Miauricio Leonidas Felinez was losing a battle with a bow tie.

“It’s crooked”, his nephew Ronromeo Gabriel Felinez informed him, with the flat authority of a kitten who had opinions about everything and had never in his short life contemplated the possibility of any of those opinions being wrong.

“It’s stylish. Kitty girls like it like this”.

“You just say that because you don’t know how to fix it, Tío Miauricio.”

“You cast doubt on my word, sobrino Ronromeo?” said Miauricio in a dramatic and playful voice.

“Not your word. Your bow tying skills on the other paw…” snapped back the kitten.

It wasn’t that Ronromeo was more mature than his uncle—Miauricio wanted his nephew to not forget he was still a kitten, and Ronromeo didn’t know if his uncle knew how to take things seriously.

The bow tie won. Miauricio surrendered and let his nephew fix the bow tie himself, small paws far steadier than his own had any right to be at—he checked the clock—six-forty in the morning.

It felt illegal to be awake so early, but his sister’s shift started at five, and someone had to get this particular kitten fed, dressed, and delivered to his first day at a school considerably fancier than anything Miauricio himself had ever attended.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Nah”. A pause. “Okay. Maybe the tiniest most microscopical bit”.

“Hey kittyo, it’s alright to be nervous! Everybody’s nervous on their first day”. Miauricio leaned his head over Ronromeo like he was telling him a secret: “Even the teachers”.

Ronromeo rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. Teachers don’t get nervous. Why would they be nervous? Do you get nervous being boring and telling kittens to stop meowing and playing?”

“Well, you’d be surprised. Not all teachers are the same. Some of them might even be nice!” Miauricio looked at Ronromeo and raised an eyebrow. “You might even end up liking one of them”.

Gatarina’s eyes widened as the morning sun gently framed the school in its light. She knew the school hadn’t changed, and yet, it felt different today.

Whisker Heights Academy sat at the top of a small hill that made every entrance feel a little like an arrival, all ivy and old stone and the smell of cut grass from the courtyard gardens. The guard at the front gate—a broad, grey tom who’d clearly seen a decade’s worth of nervous first days—tipped his cap at her.

“Señorita Maullido. Full time now, I hear”.

“Hahaha, word travels fast, doesn’t it don Emichiliano?”

“That it does, señorita Maullido. It actually travels at the speed of the teachers’ lounge coffee”, he said. “Instant coffee, instant pawssip”.

She laughed, more freely than she’d expected to, and went in feeling like she’d finally found a home and a family she never knew she already belonged to.

And the teachers’ lounge extended that welcome. Laura Pantericia Garrido, the Purrtuguese teacher, pressed a still-warm torta chilena into her paw before she could protest, and asked—with a knowing look that suggested she already knew the answer—whether Gatarina had slept at all.

“An hour. Maybe two”.

“Sounds about right. That’s the first-timer average. We’ve all been there, dear”.

“I don’t know what happened Miss Garrido, I had everything ready too!”

“Couldn’t choose between the last couple of outfits you had already pre-selected? And call me Panty”.

“Yes! How did you..?”

“Been there”, Panty interrupted with a laugh. “Gatarina, you’ll do great. Relax, dear. You want coffee with that torta chilena?”

Gatarina paused. “I don’t know Panty, I don’t think I should. I already had a cup before I came…”

“You also just slept about two hours”.

Gatarina took the cup of coffee. More teachers approached.

There was an ease to it—to being someone other teachers checked in on, rather than someone they were simply polite to. She carried that warmth with her down the hall and into a classroom that, for the first time, had her name on the door instead of taped over someone else’s.

With enough time left, she started making sure everything in the classroom was perfect.

She was still arranging name cards on the desks when the first parents began arriving with their kittens in the courtyard below.

Miauricio and Ronromeo made it to Whisker Heights with four minutes to spare, which Miauricio considered a personal triumph. The courtyard was a small chaos of kittens and parents and at least three bow ties lay shredded in the garden already.

“See Ronromeo? And you were complaining about a crooked bow tie”.

“Maybe kitty girls like shredded bow ties better…”

“You’re too young to be thinking about kitty girls”.

“You’re the one who said they liked crooked bow ties!”

“Yes, but I’m a grown cat!”

Miauricio grabbed Ronromeo’s paw as they walked towards the entrance. Despite the banter, Ronromeo’s paw tightened in the way it always did right before he pretended he didn’t need holding at all.

“There”, Miauricio said, nodding toward the building. “Grace & Poise, second floor. That’s your first class today”.

And that was when he saw her through the tall window of the second floor classroom—a teacher in sage-green and cream. He thought she looked soft and approachable.

The bell rang and she moved away from the window to receive the kitties. Ronromeo made it right on time.

Miauricio was on his way to work.

And the moment, like all first moments, ended before either of them thought to make anything of it.

End of Episode One

Episode Two

A quick paw-ssary 🐾

Calicorazón: “calico” + corazón (heart, in Spanish). Read: my calico-hearted love. Rugelio’s own invention, apparently.

Sobrino: Spanish for “nephew”.

Torta chilena: a traditional Chilean layer cake, usually filled with manjar (Chile’s answer to dulce de leche).

I’ve been wanting to tell the story of Gatarina and Miauricio “properly” for a while now. Finally, I took some time and started filling the gaps in the story, fleshing out the characters and writing their backstories.

I hope you like this first installment. If you did, a comment is always appreciated.

Leave a comment

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jul 27-Aug 2, 2026).

Last week we had the mystery of the illegally smol kitteh and a poll to reveal who was the kitty who did it and 40% of you guessed right! 😁

This week we have a mystery of a shredded toilet paper! 😯

Monday, July 27

Tuesday, July 28

Wednesday, July 29

Thursday, July 30

Friday, July 31

Saturday, August 1

Sunday, August 2

The Reveal (as narrated by Sunday kitty, Detective)

The coffee tasted of melancholy and regret. So bitter no amount of sugar could save it.
Never thought I’d have so much in common with coffee.
I drink it slowly and taste every acrid drop.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and bitterness to bitterness.

The phone rings. Right on cue.

Some things don’t change.
The city doesn’t change. My coffee doesn’t change. My hours don’t change.
And every case starts the same way: one crime, a list of suspects, and everyone’s got an alibi.
This time, it was toilet paper.

Toilet paper is one of those quirky things the hoomans have in their dwellings.
Nobody knows what they use it for, but cats in their infinite wisdom and creativity have found excellent catherapeutical applications for these otherwise useless objects.
And one kitty who had been peacefully sleeping in a sink had just found a roll of toilet paper completely destroyed.

Shreds of fine soft plies of white cushiony material scattered all over the floor like my hopes and dreams.
Except I knew who had shredded my hopes and dreams.
And I also knew I’d shred them myself a thousand times for one more chance to look at her eyes and to hear her soft purr.

Daydreaming again. Have to go back to the 3-ply ultra absorbent victim.

The scene could only be described as a vulgar display of power.
I know how that sounds. Believe me, I’ve heard worse.
I’ve also solved worse.

Aside from the napping fella who reported the crime, there were five other kitties in the premises at the moment of the incident.
Five suspects. Five alibis. All of them accounted for their whereabouts, and every single one of them pointed a paw at somebody else.

It was time for work. I went over the list of suspects:
The purrgrammer ran the numbers and called proximity to the bathroom a false positive. Fair point. Didn’t clear them.
The fitness coach had a client list and a closet with a clean view of the bathroom door. Kept flexing every time I asked a question.
The meowgician had a laundry basket, a reputation for loving a good shred, and a nap that looked a little too peaceful for somekitty under suspicion.
The psychologist had size on their side—long enough to reach a roll straight off the floor, no jump required—and enough professional vocabulary to turn every question back on me.
The flight cattendant had zoomies right after the crime turned up. Called it rest. I’ve never seen anyone rest like that.

Strong alibis. I returned to the scene of the crime hoping to find more clues.
I examined the remnants of the toilet paper.

My expertise in analyzing physical evidence is limited. I run on a budget so I don’t have a dedicated team of forensic experts with labs and computers.
And yet, despite that limitation, my feline intuition is exceptional at figuring out motivations.
I looked at the unrolled paper and the shredding.
I noticed the depth of the shredding… it was a statement.
Whoever did it wasn’t playing. It was quality control. And not for the toilet paper.

I remembered a kitty flexing for no reason and remembered the reports from the other kitties. The fitness coach was always bragging about the sharpness of their claws.
Nobody brags about the sharpest claws in the house unless they’re looking for a reason to use them.
That’s when it clicked. The fitness coach didn’t destroy a roll of toilet paper.
They used the toilet paper as a test of excellence.
The excellence of their claws.

I looked at my notes. “Ask anyone on my client list.”
That was part of the fitness coach’s statement. The implication was that the fitness coach had been busy all day and there were witnesses, but were there?
I went looking for the client list. No appointments before or after the incident.

Turns out shredding is a skill you can be proud of, same as any other. And somekitty in that closet had been waiting all week for a chance to prove their form.
The fitness coach confessed before I even finished the sentence.
“I remember now. I wanted to test how deep my claws could cut into the roll when the whole thing fell apart. The design can’t stand my strength and the sharpness of my claws.”
Didn’t deny a thing. Just repeatedly asked if I’d noticed the technique.
I had.

I thought I had closed the case.
I hadn’t.

In my line of work you learn to accept that not every crime will receive pawnishment. We know that toilet paper’s only function is as therapeutic outlet, but like so many hooman artifacts, toilet paper often just reappears every so often.
Why report this specific roll if a new one would just grow in its place?

I went back to the napping kitty to close the case out properly.
Should’ve been simple. Should’ve been over.
But something in the way the sleepy fella had described the scene stuck with me. Too specific. Too purrsonal for somekitty who claims paper towels don’t concern them.
I asked the real question: “Why do you care about this roll so much?”

“Detective, you must know the regeneration time of the toilet paper roll is arbitrary. When the two-legged servants are here, it regenerates almost instantaneously, but when they leave it can take hours.”

It was true. I had seen it myself, the hoomans could open and close the door of the bathroom and the toilet paper would just regenerate sometimes.
And still, there was something that didn’t quite make sense yet. Why ask me to investigate who did it when the concern was the time of regeneration?
I pressed. And there it was—the real answer:
“I wanted to be the one to do it. I’d been eyeing that roll all day. Woke up from my nap and somekitty had already gotten to it first.”

No wonder my napping friend felt purrsonally aggravated.
I didn’t have forensic examiners who could tell us why this role was taking so long to regenerate.
The stress was real. It wasn’t just the napping kitty, everykitty now had to wait until the toilet paper’s regeneration.
Fortunately for the group, there was a psychologist among them.
“This may be a subpar alternative, but if we go to the kitchen, you’ll see a wider roll of paper of similar texture that can be used for catherapeutical release.”

Indeed there was such an object on the kitchen’s counter and the kitties took turns shredding it. Even the purrgrammer joined citing stress related to an error in the code that seemed to be the result of inadvertently using the keyboard to nap during a break and forgetting to save the project before napping.

A shower of white bits and shreds fell from the counter as I took my payment and left.

Now my home waited for me. My bed waited for me.
And she waited for me.
In my dreams.

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

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Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jul 20-Jul 26, 2026).

Last week we had the mystery of the stolen braincell and a poll to reveal who was the kitty who did it and 36% of you guessed right! 😉

This week we have a mystery of the illegally smol kitteh:

Monday, July 20

Tuesday, July 21

Wednesday, July 22

Thursday, July 23

Friday, July 24

Saturday, July 25

Sunday, July 26

The Reveal (as narrated by Sunday kitty, Detective)

The night was dark as her fur.
Dark as our romance once was.
Dark… and still lit by a smoldering fire between us that stubbornly refuses to be quenched.

I need to focus.

The call woke me up. I’ve barely escaped slumberland and I already have a new case.
Merely fifteen hours of sleep this time.
I’ll have to survive the sleep deprivation.
Like I survive everything else. Like I survive without her.

The caller was collected. This didn’t seem like an emergency.
The case was unusual. Something about illegally smol kittehs.
Illegally smol kittehs? Far as I’m concerned, all smol kitties are criminals.
They steal kisses, break hearts, and invade properties all the time.

It’s like they had no concept of laws or boundaries. They’re ungovernable. Proud and tireless anarchists.

What could they have done this time?
What was I getting into?

The kitty calling mentioned a contest. Who’d create a contest to reward these miscreants?
And yet, there was one. One held weekly, no less.
A weekly contest to reward crime. That’s the way of this city.

Smol Kitteh of the Week. One winner. One prize: Tiny Privileges.
One anonymous tip: somebody in the finals wasn’t legally smol at all.
“Legally smol,” that’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever seen one.

The organizer vouched for the organization’s members.
That’s why they needed a private eye.
Something worth protecting was at stake.
What’s worth protecting about a bunch of tiny scoundrels?
Where does the corruption end?

But the pay was good, and there was something about the organizer.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was a warmth in their voice.
Made me trust them. Made me feel like the risk was worth it.
Not my proudest check, but anything that puts food on the table is welcome these days.
Might even treat myself to an artisan chorizo.

I could only hope I was making the right decision… helping what could be best described as a front for a criminal organization.
It’s a good thing that my conscience gets more sleep than I do.

I had my list of suspects.
Looking at their pictures, there was no way these kitties didn’t have multiple offenses already.
You could tell just by looking in their eyes these kitties had no respect for the law.
I had to suppress my instinct to send them all to jail.
Life sentences. No parole.
But I wasn’t here as a judge.
I read their files. Even I had to admit, some of them seemed like talented kitties.
If they could grow out of their criminal ways that is...

I interrogated them all.
My mind felt like my orange client must have felt that week without their braincell.
I did not expect the biggest crime of all to be the smol kitteh measuring system.
I hear the hoomans use their feet to measure things… might be a good time to start using our paws as the cat standard.

Alas, more crimes just means more work. And a bigger pay for me.
Maybe I could charge extra for that mess of a measuring system.

I gathered the evidence:
The chef was three sauces long—no sauce packages in the kitchen to prove it, but no reason to lie about a number that big either.
The climber was four eggs tall—never left the top shelf all week, and never seemed bothered to obtain Tiny Privileges.
The painter was three lemons—too busy with the mural to fake anything, and greatness this large doesn’t need to hide.
The designer was one banana long—you don’t measure against a single banana if you’re not confident in your size.

Four kitties, four numbers, four alibis that actually held up.

Then there was the dancer. Five sushi rolls long. Biggest number of the week. Should’ve been the easiest kitty to clear.
Should’ve been.

I finally checked the catering menu for this event.
One order. One type of roll. Hosomaki, to be precise—the thin kind, the smolest roll.
Things were not looking good for the dancer.

But... did that clear the others? What about the other measure units? I had to be sure.
I had to get my paws on the units themselves: eggs, lemons, bananas, the whole absurd lineup.
Once I had them all side by side, the whole system fell apart.
Too much variation. Brown eggs, white eggs—green lemons, yellow lemons—green bananas, yellow bananas—and all different colors and sizes. It’s like nature didn’t care about laws either.
To my luck, there was an unnatural element in the mix: the sauce packets. Mass-produced consistency.

I had to test my theory. Of all the units, the sushi rolls were the smolest.
I stacked them against sauce packets.
Five sushi rolls, converted honestly: two rolls to a packet, no more, no less.
Five sushi rolls was definitely less than three sauce packets.
Five sushi rolls was... the smolest measurement.
The smolest measurement in the entire contest, dressed up in the biggest number so nobody would do the math.
I said it once. I’ll say it again: Big numbers hide big lies.

The dancer confessed. I did not expect an illegally smol kitteh to have a conscience.
“I didn’t have sauce packets within paw’s reach! I never intended to lie! How can you know you’re illegally smol if you don’t have a ranch sauce anywhere near you?”

The confusion seemed genuine.
I could relate to the pain of confusion.
Sadly, I can always relate to pain.

An argument ensued, all the kitties coming up with excuses:
“You can always use the BBQ sauce packet!”
“Aren’t those sauce cups? I thought it was squeeze sauce packets!”
“What do you know about sauce, you’re using lemons!”

It went on for a while as they argued over the measurement unit and then moved to how they were measured:
“Are you guys measuring the tail? I’m sure I’m the longest if we count the tail.”
“That’s cheating, the measurement is done in loaf position.”
“Loaf position? We’re using bread now?”

We had to admit it. The system was broken.

They all seemed illegally smol to me. But feelings don’t hold in court.
We needed something undisputed. We needed the Royal Chonkiness Authority’s system.

The RCA uses a series of rigorous cognitive and physical tests to prove you’re a lawful cat.
None of the suspects had an RCA license, but there was one kitty who had won the previous contest and had just obtained a license the day before.
Purrfect timing. Freshest record on file. Can’t argue with a license.
There was only one gap: the RCA doesn’t measure smolness.

We had to improvise. The licensed kitty wanted to help.
The organizer agreed to try my new system. The chef brought what was left of the BBQ sauce packets.
We didn’t dwell on the flavor variation index—what mattered was, for once, we could measure all of them using one standardized system.
We measured. The sauces didn’t lie: you have to clear at least four packets to be legally smol.
We proceeded to measure the smol suspects.
When the measurements were done, the truth was revealed: all the suspects were illegally smol.
Like I had known the entire time.

I don’t always agree with the law and the law doesn’t always agree with me.
But we respect each other.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always distrusted smol kittehs.
Everykitty knows this: the smoler you are, the more criminal tendencies you have.

I wasn’t proud of being right this time.
But I was right: all the smol kittehs were illegally smol.
And yet, one more truth was about to be revealed.

The organizer pulled me aside.
The same organizer who had treated me with nothing but respect and kindness had one last confession to make: the organization was a rehabilitation center for smol kittehs.
That’s why they were all already practicing crafts and creating art.
They prepared them for the RCA tests, that’s why the previous contest winner had just received their license.

The messy measuring system had allowed them to protect these kitties and encourage them to pursue an honest life without unwanted oversight.
I finally understood.

The anonymous tip came from the chef who wanted to get the Tiny Privileges without competition.
Someone who still had a long way to go in their path to redemption.
The organizer talked to all of them, came up with new rules, and reassured the tiny criminals that they’d be safe.
Then reassured me that they’d grow out of their criminal behaviors.
Tiny Privileges would be handed to the whole finals list by the next afternoon.

I took the payment and left.
It’s true: I’m a private detective uncovering crimes.
But it’s also true: I know what it’s like to have a soft spot for criminals.
After all, I still love the one who stole my heart.

That night, I learned something about illegally smol kittehs: they have more hope than I do.
I’ll admit it, it makes me a little jealous.
Their future is bright.
Mine is dark.
Dark as her fur.

Bonus “Bros”

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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☕ Support My Work

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this post and want to continue supporting my work, why not buy me a coffee?

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jul 13-Jul 19, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from February 2026!

Last week we had the mystery of the shredded cardboard box and a poll to reveal who was the kitty who did it and only 25% of you guessed right! 😯

This week we have a mystery of a stolen braincell:

Monday, July 13

Tuesday, July 14

Wednesday, July 15

Thursday, July 16

Friday, July 17

Saturday, July 18

Sunday, July 19 *

The Reveal (as narrated by Sunday kitty, Detective)

They say the truth will set you free.
Sadly, I don’t know much about truth or freedom.
I chose to be chained to two words: “I’ll return.”
I’m the captive of two lovers: a memory and a promise.

I’ve been called a fool for waiting.
Maybe that’s why this case felt personal.
Nobody should feel like a fool after losing something.
Much less for being robbed.

They say ginger cats share a collective braincell.
I’m not a scientist, so don’t quote me on that.
I’ve always doubted that theory.
The logistics don’t add up. How does the braincell cross the ocean?
Yes, I’m skeptical, and yet, I think we’ve all met at least one apricot-shaded fellow whose skull was as empty as the bottles of bourbon in my apartment.
The orange cat braincell is truly a mystery.
One that was only part of my case.

The client called me in a panic.
An orange cat without a braincell.
I could confirm by the signs: the vacant stares, the corner ghosts, the sudden fascination with a doorknob that had been there for six years.
The braincell was gone.
Normally, I’d ask them to wait until it comes back, resets, or does whatever an orange cat braincell does.
But this orange cat’s claim caught my attention.
The braincell wasn’t on airplane mode... it had been stolen.

Who could be so desperate?
So ruthless?
So in need for increased brain capacity?

I had my suspects.
A model renegotiating contracts with the precision of a corporate lawyer.
A gamer who’d traded zoomies for chess puzzles.
A delivery driver quoting Paw Tzu in traffic.
A store clerk implementing Six Sigma inventory methodology in three days.
And a meowchanic having existential breakthroughs about load-bearing structures.

Impressive. Suspicious. Circumstantial.

Here’s what the evidence actually said:
The client had no sense of style. No connection to the model.
The client hadn’t ordered from Temeow. No connection to the delivery driver.
The client had a PurrStation, not a Nyantendo. No connection to the gamer.
The client didn’t even have a driver’s license. No connection to the meowchanic.

What the client did was shop at the clerk kitty’s store. Every. Single. Week.

One connection. One suspect.
I went back to the store.

Store clerk kitty looked up from the spreadsheet without surprise.
Maybe my arrival was accounted for in the DMAIC methodology.
I asked about the braincell directly.

The store clerk sighed the sigh of a kitty who had been expecting this conversation.

“Three days ago Monday kitty came in for their usual order of treats and a cardboard box.”
The store clerk pulled out a small evidence bag from behind the counter.
Inside: one braincell. Slightly orange. Very shiny.
“Monday kitty dropped it chasing a corner ghost in aisle three. I watched it happen in real time.”
The store clerk paused.
“I was going to return it. But then I thought... this might help me win the game.”

The game?
The store clerk couldn’t be talking about a Six Sigma inventory implementation.
I needed clarification.

“Wednesday kitty—the gamer—we play online chess.”
I raised my eyebrow just slightly.
Friday kitty’s composure slipped slightly.
“I’ve studied the strategies, patterns, theories and nothing...”
I waited.
“I haven’t won yet. The braincell apparently doesn’t help with chess.”
I waited longer.
“Wednesday kitty is just genuinely good at chess. It’s very annoying.”

Turns out the store clerk had been studying Six Sigma for a few months and was already a Green Belt.
No need for a stolen braincell for that.

Here’s what the investigation actually found:
The model had always been business-savvy. The contract negotiation had been months in planning.
The gamer had always loved puzzles. Chess was inevitable.
The delivery driver had been reading Paw Tzu for weeks. The traffic optimization was their own genius.
The meowchanic had been studying engineering principles quietly for years. The terminology just clicked.

Nobody had stolen anything.
Except Friday kitty, who had borrowed one braincell to try to win a chess game against Wednesday kitty and still failed.

The client was called to the store immediately.
The braincell was returned.
The client was able to form their first thought in a week... then chased a corner ghost on the way out.
The braincell didn’t seem to help with that.

I closed the case.
I reminisced about the last three weeks.
Three mysteries. Three crimes that weren’t quite crimes.
A chorizo eaten with passion. A box destroyed in anger. A braincell borrowed for a chess game.
This city doesn’t have criminals.
It just has cats.

Which, now that I think about it...
...might be worse.

Time to go back to my apartment.
I’ve earned my nap.
I’ve earned my right to dream of her again.
At least, until the next case.

Throwback (Feb 2026)

Monday, February 2

Tuesday, February 3

Wednesday, February 4

Thursday, February 5

Friday, February 6

Saturday, February 7

Sunday, February 8

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jul 6-Jul 12, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from January and February 2026!

Last week we had the mystery of the missing chorizo and a poll to reveal who was the kitty who did it and 54% of you guessed right!

This week we have a mystery of a destroyed cardboard box:

Monday, July 6

Tuesday, July 7

Wednesday, July 8

Thursday, July 9

Friday, July 10

Saturday, July 11

Sunday, July 12 *

The Reveal (as narrated by Sunday kitty, Detective)

You think you know about tragedy?
You don’t know about tragedies.
The call I got… that was someone who knew tragedy as intimately as a lover’s gaze knows their lover’s body.

I know of lovers. And I know of tragedies.
Sometimes they dress the same.
But we’re not here to talk about my past.

The someone calling was a kitty having lost their most precious possession.
Their haven.
Their cardboard box.

Seventeen minutes. That's all it took to reduce a perfectly good box to shreds.
Not stolen. Destroyed.
This wasn’t theft. This was emotion.

Rage. My old friend.
My old shadow.

As usual, I’m not called when there’s good news.
I’m not called when the dust has settled.
I’m called when there’s knots to untie.

Fortunately, this knot had loose threads:
Five suspects. Five alibis.
One box worth avenging.

One week of investigation. That’s all I needed.
I’m not paid to flirt with mysteries.
I’m paid to lay them bare.

The indie meowsician had sharp claws—but sharp claws don’t destroy alone. You need motivation.
“Cardboard boxes have treated me well in a world that hasn’t.” No motive there.
The theater actor was always in a hurry—too much of a hurry to stop and destroy something deliberately.
The gardener disliked boxes—but hating something and destroying it are different crimes entirely.
The student scratches everything—but panicked innocence is still innocence.

That left one kitty.
On the couch. Hair matching the evidence. Seventeen rejections before noon.
A kitty who pointed at the gardener and claimed similar fur colors.
A gray Maine Coon pointing at a calico.
My pupils didn’t even dilate to spot a lie that obvious.

When confronted with the evidence, Wednesday kitty was quiet for a moment.
Then: “If it helps, it wasn’t personal. Just like none of the rejections were.”
I almost felt sorry for Wednesday kitty.
Just like those seventeen kitties didn’t intend to hurt Wednesday kitty, Wednesday kitty didn’t intend to hurt Monday kitty by shredding the cardboard box.
But rejecting a call is not a crime.

I left Wednesday kitty and Monday kitty alone.
I hear they reached a settlement.
Wednesday kitty would replace the box.
And in an unexpected act of solidarity, Saturday kitty offered their scratch house as a stress relief outlet to Wednesday kitty.

Sometimes this job isn’t so bad.
Some crimes are committed in anger.
Some boxes were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
That’s the way of this city.

Maybe I can catch up on some sleep.
Seems like it’s easier to catch criminals than some zs.
But like with criminals, I’m not about to quit.
So in the meantime, do me a favor… don’t call me.

Don’t fear my dear, we’ll see each other again.

Throwback (Jan 2026)

Monday, January 26

Tuesday, January 27

Wednesday, January 28

Thursday, January 29

Friday, January 30

Saturday, January 31

Sunday, February 1

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

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I'm a simple person. If I know someone's hurting, I think hugs and kisses can fix it.
That and I don't have a million dollars...
Kisses are free!

I still wouldn't trade a million kisses for a million dollars.

Wait... what was I talking about?
Oh yeah... here's a poem about counting kisses. 😁

Subscribe now

The Kiss that Counts

Will a kiss make you believe
or will I need two?
Let’s add one more on each cheek—
that’s three—
that’s still not enough.

Will a kiss make you forget
the pain that comes at night?
Let’s kiss that dear forehead—
that mind—
that still needs some love.

Will a kiss make you dream
of a brighter tomorrow?
Let’s kiss that resilient heart—
that warrior—
that lover—
that’s always been enough.

Will a kiss make you feel
you’re more than enough?
Let’s kiss away those tears—
those doubts —
those yesterdays —
those ghosts —
that have grown in the absence of love.

Will a kiss make you believe
or will I need two?
Let’s make it easy,
I’ll start kissing you today
and I’ll never stop
as long as there’s a tomorrow.

Okay... so that's another poem about kisses.

Maybe next time I’ll write a poem about what I had for lunch… but that will be another day.

Or maybe you have opinions about this… let’s hear it!

The poll is only half-serious. You can’t really stop me from writing more poems about kisses after all… 🤷‍♂️😅

Have any other ideas? Feel free to share them in the comments!

Leave a comment

What’s that, you want to read poems about heartbreak? Geez… what a bleak thing to want… regardless, I have what you’re looking for:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

Subscribe now

☕ Support My Work

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this poem and want to continue supporting my work, why not buy me a coffee?

If coffee is not for you (I get it) then liking, commenting or restacking will also be greatly appreciated.

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jun 30-Jul 5, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from January 2026!

This week there was a mystery. A missing chorizo and a detective determined to find the kitty who ate it.

Did you figure out which kitty did it?

Keep reading and let’s figure it out together!

Monday, June 29

Tuesday, June 30

Wednesday, July 1

Thursday, July 2

Friday, July 3

Saturday, July 4

Sunday, July 5 *

The Reveal (as narrated by Monday kitty P.E.)

The call came out of nowhere.
They say there’s no rest for the wicked—I must be the wickedest kitty out there. Just thirteen hours of sleep. That should be illegal.

The caller’s voice was anguished. The type of anguish that was only reserved for one type of loss: food was stolen.
That type of greed sickens me.

A group of kitties planned a carne asada. The menu was stacked: steak, chicken fajitas, tacos and the highlight of the afternoon: artisan chorizo.

The gathering had been a success until the last chorizo was on the grill… and then it wasn’t.
Gone. Like a lover at sunrise.

I had my case:
A missing chorizo. A carne asada. Five suspects with five alibis.

Fortunately, this wasn’t my first rodeo.
When you’ve done this job for as long as I have, you learn to take the alibis like you take your fries—with a few grains of salt.

What matters is the cold, hard facts:

The fence kitty had deli meat breath—not chorizo.
The music lover was under the table—too far from the grill.
The conspiracy theorist was on the roof—whiskers too clean for someone near a grill.
The napping champion was inside—three chicken strips and a round belly tell no lies.

That left one kitty.
Near the grill. Greasy paws. A blog about artisan food.
A kitty who said they never got a chance to try the chorizo.
A kitty whose paws suggested otherwise.

My partner asks me how I can be so certain. Elemencatty, my dear Sunday kitty—the food blogger had a blog to write and there was only one chorizo left. You can’t let your audience down by not reviewing the highlight of the carne asada.

When confronted with the hard evidence, Tuesday kitty accepted it.

“Five stars. Would steal again.”

The host of the party—the same kitty who called me reached a settlement with Tuesday kitty. I hear there’s an agreement to get more chorizo.

They say you can get away with anything when you’re a cat.
I must have missed the memo.
Some kitties get chorizo, I can’t even get my share of sixteen hours of sleep.

That’s the way of this city.
Crime doesn’t sleep here.
Neither do I.

Bonus bros of the week:

Throwback (Jan 2026)

Monday, January 19

Tuesday, January 20

Wednesday, January 21

Thursday, January 22

Friday, January 23

Saturday, January 24

Sunday, January 25

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

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I've been thinking about writing this post for a while now.

For anyone who's noticed, I haven't been posting poetry, short stories or essays lately. At least, not as often as I used to last year.

I've been contributing poetry and helping out as an editor at , so it’s not like I have been completely silent, and of course if you follow me on the app or check Substack frequently (or daily) you’ll see my daily kitty posts which ran an ongoing storyline for eleven or twelve weeks, which was a lot of fun to write.

But my weekly posts which used to consist of at least one poem a week and for a while the Moderating the Discourse series have been on hiatus for a while.

I wanted to address the main reasons for this change.

The Before

When I started in March 2025, I had over 100 poems I'd been posting on Instagram, and I started re-reading them, tightening where they needed tightening and polishing everything from meter to grammar.

My goal was to have a good portfolio of writings and to start writing longer pieces.

As I started getting comfortable with the platform and the community, I started posting longer poems, personal reflections, short stories and even started one or two series.

If you browse my publication, you’ll find a song I created with my friend , some humorous interactions with turned into parody, a short story with discussing the meaning of the lyrics of the song Despacito and even a deep dive into the controversial history of Norwegian Black Metal.

Then there’s been the submissions by , , and for the Moderating the Discourse series.

Truth is, I love writing.

Truth also is, I’m exhausted.

For anyone who knows or remembers, I’m still a single father with a full time job trying to do my best with the limited time I have.

My son is about to turn twelve this year and I’m trying to spend as much time with him as I can. Near the end of last year and the beginning of this year, we’d go out for walks and we’d talk about what’s going on in his life.

I don’t take the privilege of being present in his life lightly, furthermore, I know this privilege can be temporary as he becomes a young man.

He’s in that age where he’s starting to contemplate life from the perspective of the person he’s becoming more than the kid he once was.

I have no idea how I managed to write so much over a year ago, although having a lot of written material surely helped.

One thing I remember also was the fact that there were tons of late nights that turned into difficult mornings and left me less present at work.

There are things at my age you can’t change, and one thing I know is that as long as I’m employed and this employment is providing for my family, I need to give it my best too.

One thing I just don’t feel comfortable doing at work or with my writing is compromising the quality of what I do.

And that’s one of the main reasons why my output has decreased as much.

The “Hiatus”

In my drafts: poems I have yet to revisit. The beginning of Episode 9 of Moderating the Discourse. A few hundred words on the story of Cannibal Corpse’s singer, George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher, and his donations of plush toys to kids—including seven bags of plushies to Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida.

A nearly finished draft for my collaboration with . A full voice-over from a very dear friend (who shall remain secret for now) for the poem I wrote in Ashes' style, just waiting on me to finish it.

A planned continuation of the series in my Pasión Prohibida publication: Claire and Joel's story, and a full idea to expand the Succubus story.

In summary: too many ideas, not enough hours.

I could set a quota—ten poems a week, post whatever comes out—but I’ve also got twenty to fifty poems sitting unposted because they’re not at the level of what I’ve already published here. Maybe that’s too strict a bar. But I’d rather hold the line than publish something I won’t be proud of a year from now.

What I do know is that I still love going back through old posts and reading them—genuinely, not out of obligation. That hasn’t changed, and it’s part of why I want to keep this going.

Which brings me to the daily kitty captions.

I never expected to find myself writing a twelve-week kitty soap opera in the captions of my Notes, yet here we are. Writing them has kept me connected to the community even when longer pieces weren’t happening.

I’ve even thought about giving Gatarina and Miauricio’s story a full traditional treatment—real dialogue, room to expand what the captions couldn’t hold. I haven’t yet, mostly because I want to do it right, and right now I don’t have the bandwidth to write it the way I’d want to.

I’ve got dozens of ideas like that. What I’m short on is time and the right headspace to sit down with them.

Present and Future

I enabled paid subscriptions some months ago, and they haven’t picked up. It’s a little discouraging—if this stays a hobby forever, so be it, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for more.

That’s part of why I’ve been turning some ideas over. Nothing decided yet, just things I’m weighing.

One idea I’ve been seriously considering is opening a chat for paid subscribers. I don’t even have a chat right now, so this would be something new, not something free subscribers are losing access to. Everything you already get—daily kitty captions, poetry posts, reflections, all of it—stays exactly the same either way.

What I’m hoping the chat becomes is a more intimate, behind-the-curtain space. Less “published author,” more “person actually writing this stuff at 11pm.”

I’m thinking: sharing unreleased poems before they go anywhere else, drafts, works in progress, casual stuff like memes, pictures, voice notes, whatever’s on my mind that doesn’t merit its own post. Maybe even taking requests—a poem on a topic someone throws out, a song recommendation, who knows. Honestly, I’d rather let the community shape what it becomes than overdesign it myself.

Maybe separate from the chat, I’ve also been considering doing livestreams if anyone’s interested in that. Not sure what they’d be about yet, but I’m open to suggestions! Death Metal karaoke anyone? 😅

I think it’s important to remember that our publications are as much the product of us as authors and creators as they are of the community that makes them possible. If there’s no appetite for this, that’s alright—my main motivation to write is my passion for it, so I’ll keep doing that regardless. But I have a feeling some of you would want more than a weekly kitty roundup, so I figured I’d ask instead of guessing.

And to be clear: the weekly poetry posts, essays, the short stories—none of that is going away or getting replaced by chat content. It’s just been slower than I’d like, for all the reasons above. The chat, if it happens, is additive, not a pivot.

With that said, let’s try something new:

Closing Thoughts

The main reason for this post was to communicate with you, the subscriber, on the direction of the publication.

Please do tell me if you want more poems—even if they’re not about heartbreak (I could try my hand at writing poems about cats)—or if you want more reflections, short stories, or just want me to go full kitty soap opera mode!

Let me know if you prefer shorter posts, or if you’d be interested in longer stories that run multiple chapters.

I’d just like to connect with you and get your input on something other than what Monday kitty is up to this week. 😁

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Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jun 22-Jun 29, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from January 2026!

This week there was no storyline, just classic standalone kitty captions.

But I’m already working on a new idea for these kitties… hope you like it 😁

Monday, June 22

Tuesday, June 23

Wednesday, June 24

Thursday, June 25

Friday, June 26

Saturday, June 27

Sunday, June 28

Bonus bros

Throwback (Jan 2026)

Monday, January 12

Tuesday, January 13

Wednesday, January 14

Thursday, January 15

Friday, January 16

Saturday, January 17

Sunday, January 18

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

Subscribe now

Here are this week’s seven kitties (Mar 23-Mar 29, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from December 2025 and January 2026!

The story of Gatarina and Miauricio was over, but there was one more story to tell:

The Story So Far

Minina Esmeralda Maullido sat across from a Catherapist with more baggage than an airport terminal. Losing her job. Fighting with her sister. Feeling like Rugelio Ricardo Tigrano never saw her the way he saw Gatarina. She finally faced all of it. Progress, her Catherapist called it.

Meanwhile, Rugelio’s best friend and VP of Markittying joked about taking Minina to dinner himself.

What seemed like a harmless joke resulted in an unexpected reaction. Rugelio looked him dead in the eyes: “Leave Minina alone.”

Rugelio—still holding to old habits—hired a detective to confirm one simple thing: was Minina seeing anyone?

She wasn’t.

The detective’s investigation actually confirmed something only Rugelio didn’t seem to have noticed: Minina’s loyalty.

Rugelio called.
The date was set.
It was finally Minina’s turn.

Two sisters. Two tomcats. Two happy endings nobody saw coming eleven weeks ago.

Monday, June 15

Tuesday, June 16

Wednesday, June 17

Thursday, June 18

Friday, June 19

Saturday, June 20

Sunday, June 21

Bonus bros

Throwback (Jan 2026)

Monday, January 5

Tuesday, January 6

Wednesday, January 7

Thursday, January 8

Friday, January 9

Saturday, January 10

Sunday, January 11

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

Subscribe now

Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jun 8-Jun 14, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from December 2025 and January 2026!

We have eleven weeks of kitty drama now! This is the recap of the events of last week:

The Story So Far

It started with a promotion and ended in the rain.

At a Maullido family dinner, Gatarina Celestina Maullido looked at her sister Minina Esmeralda Maullido and finally confronted her about her betrayal. Their mother was heartbroken.

At Whisker Heights Academy, Ronromeo Gabriel Felinez and his friend noticed how Ronromeo’s uncle, Miauricio Leonidas Felinez, seemed happier every time he talked with Miss Maullido, the Grace & Poise teacher.

Days passed, Miauricio sat across from his Catherapist and revealed his true feelings after weeks of chaos and complications and wrong decisions.

“I just know I love her.”

So he showed up at Gatarina’s door. No flowers. No grand speech. Just himself and something honest to say. It started raining almost immediately — as if the sky knew the occasion required it.

Gatarina seemed hesitant. Miauricio turned to leave.

That’s when she ran.

Right into the rain. Right into his arms. Right into a kiss under the rain.

Their neighbours cheered. So did we.

And that’s how the Gatarina and Miauricio story ended… but there were other kitties waiting for their happily ever after…

Monday, June 8

Tuesday, June 9

Wednesday, June 10

Thursday, June 11

Friday, June 12

Saturday, June 13

Sunday, June 14

Bonus bro:

Throwback (Dec 2025)

Monday, December 29

Tuesday, December 30

Wednesday, December 31

Thursday, January 1

Friday, January 2

Saturday, January 3

Sunday, January 4

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

Subscribe now

Here are this week’s seven kitties (Jun 1-Jun 7, 2026), plus a throwback to more kitties from December 2025!

We have ten weeks of kitty drama now! This is the recap of the events of last week:

The Story So Far

The storm has passed. Mostly.

Miauricio Leonidas Felinez is back to his old self at Daily Kitty Promotion LLC. The nap coordination has never been more efficient.

At Meowdern Purrfection, Inc., Rugelio Ricardo Tigrano was heard talking with Minina Esmeralda Maullido. Gatarina Celestina Maullido’s name was mentioned exactly once.

At Whisker Heights Academy, Miss Maullido’s Grace & Poise class has never been better. And across town, at a Bigotez family birthday party, someone asked Miauría Monserrat Bigotez if there was another tomcat now. Miauría just smiled.

All seemed perfect, until a new employee at Meowdern Purrfection accidentally called the wrong Ms Maullido. Gatarina answered. There was a long pause. Then a slow “Ms Maullido...”

The line went dead. But Gatarina had already understood something.

Monday, June 1

Tuesday, June 2

Wednesday, June 3

Thursday, June 4

Friday, June 5

Saturday, June 6

Sunday, June 7

Throwback (Dec 2025)

Monday, December 22

Tuesday, December 23

Wednesday, December 24

Thursday, December 25

Friday, December 26

Saturday, December 27

Sunday, December 28

Note: All kitty photos found online and shared for smiles. The ridiculous captions are mine though.

Did you have a favorite kitty?

Leave a comment

Missed last week’s kitties? Here you go:

Thank you for reading, for your time, and for being you. 😊

Subscribe now