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Hi, my name’s Angie Russo, and I can talk to animals. Yes, they understand me, and I understand them right back. But before you write me off as some crazy person, it’s important you understand that I never asked for this. In fact, it took me quite by shock… Um, literally.

That’s right. My peculiar power first appeared when I got electrocuted by a crummy old coffee maker. It happened at the firm where I used to work as a paralegal, right in the middle of a private will reading. And when I awoke from that zap that knocked my unconscious, I found a striped cat sitting onmy chest and making some pretty mean jokes at my expense.

Of course he had no idea I could actually understand him. Once he figured that out, the crabby tabby recruited me to help solve the murder of his late owner. I soon took to calling him Octo-Cat, short for his full moniker of Octavius Maxwell etc. etc. Fulton etc. Seriously, the cat had almost eight names attached to him, and he only adds to them as the months go by.

Fast forward more than a year… And we solved that first murder, all right, then many more crimes after that. In fact, the two of us now have our own private investigation firm, which my mom and Nan have dubbed Pet Whisperer P.I. They even had a sign made, much to my chagrin.

I don’t want anyone to know my secret, so we pretend it’s just a marketing gimmick. Besides, it’s not like Octo-Cat can tell anyone on my behalf. We haven’t had very many paying clients since opening, but we still manage to stumble into fresh cases on a near monthly basis—from murder to embezzlement and everything in between, we find the bad guys of Blueberry Bay and make sure they don’t get away with their crimes.

And as nice as it would be to get paid a bit more regularly for the services we provide, my cat’s trust fund covers all our expenses and then some, including the schmancy New England manor house we call home. The property belonged to Octo-Cat’s previous owner—yeah, the murdered one—and he wasn’t willing to give that glam life up to live in my low-budget rental, so he tricked me into being the one to make a change.

And just like he has a way of adding to his lengthy name, he only gets more spoiled as time goes by, too. He has his own iPad, only drinks Evian, and pretty much does whatever he wants whenever he wants. Still, I love the guy and wouldn’t trade him for the world.

We also live with Nan, my eccentric grandmother who happens to be a former Broadway actress, one who refuses to put her glory days behind her. Last summer, she adopted a sweet little tricolor Chihuahua from the local animal shelter and named the tiny dear Paisley. We had a rough go at first, but now Octo-Cat and Paisley are good friends—probably because it’s quite easy for him to boss around a dog that’s less than half his size.

Just further proof of his diva catittude.

Back when Paisley first landed in our lives, she helped us uncover a big embezzlement scheme at the shelter from which she was rescued. The animals are in great hands with the new director, but the shelter has had trouble recovering from that scandal. Fewer people are willing to donate or to adopt even though the leadership has changed hands.

Enter my grandmother.

Her tender heart breaks for each and every one of those animals without a home, and if it weren’t for me putting my foot down, we’d no doubt end up adopting every last one ourselves. Of course, I’ve agreed to help her support the shelter however we can, which includes a monthly donation in Paisley’s name.

But that’s not always enough, and I get it.

Now that Nan is on Facebook, she spends a lot of time in pet lover groups and recently saw a video that said black pets are the least likely to get adopted. And you know what that means…

Being that the furry love of her life, Paisley, is mostly black in color, this little factoid especially touched her heart and spurred her to action.

That’s why tonight we’ll be hosting a gigantic charity event to help the shelter, and it’s going to be right here in our New England manor house. It started out as an adoption event for all the black cats and dogs in residence, but the more we plan, the more gets added to it. So tonight’s eventis now also a fundraiser, both a formal auction and a silent auction, dinner party, ball, and even a 5k black-tie race for the cause.

Nan lives by the philosophy that if it’s worth doing, then it’s worth overdoing. She also loves to say, “Go big. That’s it. There’s no option to go home.”

So here we are, throwing a big overdone event to help the shelter out of a tight spot. It’s been a ton of work, but if even one animal finds itself a new home tonight, then all that hard work will have been worth it.

I’d cross my fingers for luck, but I need them to put the finishing touches on tonight’s event. So wish me luck, and I’ll get back to work!

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