Cat In A White Tie And Tails

But clouds are merely cotton candy, and earth-bound troubles do not go away just because you do.

I was pleased to see that Mr. Max Kinsella also found it wise to oversee the ill-conceived jaunt to Chicago. That man has instincts that would do a puma proud.

Of course, they are a bit tarnished now. It is a sad day when my unexpected pounce would cause him to duck, but I made very sure that none of my exquisitely filed nails would scratch his vehicle’s finish.

The velvet glove. That is my byword. Of course, one must maintain a set of stainless steel stilettos underneath it. My kind often plays five-card stud, so to speak, rotating “hands,” like changing out sets of brass knuckles in a fight.

Right now I play the faithful companion, running to brush past Mr. Max’s pant legs into the Circle Ritz. I have always believed he is the one most likely to succeed at solving the schemes and scams that have woven webs around the Circle Ritz residents. Besides, a top ’tec can always use a savvy partner, whether he knows it or not.

“This cat,” Miss Electra Lark notes, “looks like Midnight Louie’s smaller, fluffier younger sister.”

She could have added “smarter” too, but I am not one to carp, unlike the resident cat in question, though I emit a gentle mew of reproval.

“You seem to have a lot of black cats around the building,” Mr. Max says.

Miss Electra notes his thick dark hair and winks. “Some of us are partial to black cats of all species.”

After that they ignore me, so I am able to take the grand tour of my sire’s famous home turf. I can see why it is dear to both humans and felines. Since the outer design is round, each unit has an interior private hallway with a front door and a doorbell.

I love doorbells, which are missing from all 1,200 doors at the Crystal Phoenix. I love using them for leaping practice so I can operate elevator floor panels. When the CEO of Midnight Investigations, Inc., assigned me to stake out Mr. Max’s house for so many nights, I practiced ringing the neighbor’s doorbells for exercise.

How amusing it was when they answered and thought no one was there, even though I kept myself in plain sight.

For Mr. Max this tour is a memory exercise. Miss Electra shows him into a couple of empty units and then we take the elevator down again. I am so tempted to show off my elevator button-punching skills, but realize it is best to keep my full powers concealed.