Nothing is worse than having to do a 180-degree turn while working on a major catnap at my home, sweet home. It seems I have a new assignment: tailing my roommate when she is out on errands of a sudden and unscheduled nature.
That is to say, she is wearing her red high heels and is pulling her sunglasses out of her turquoise tote bag.
That is how I know she is in a hurry. Turquoise and red accessories?
After our traumatic trip to Mr. Matt’s family and network job opportunities, not to mention unsuspected family mob connections in Chicago, I have worried about my roomie’s ability to handle everything that is in play, including a psychopath in the woodwork.
So it is out the French doors again. Then I am down the rough-barked palm tree to the ground before the Circle Ritz elevator can creak Miss Temple to the lobby.
Next, I am under the little red Miata in its cozy carport before you can say Jackie Robinson.
I must protest to Mazda sometime for skimping on rumble seat room in Miatas for hitchhiking PIs of a feline nature. “Cute” is as cute does, and I look for function in a vehicle as well as cool looks. Just a little marketing tip.
You might think my Miss Temple is a bit dim not to notice that I am occasionally a third wheel, so to speak, on her expeditions. That would be underestimating my well-polished expertise as a stealth investigator. Given the prejudice against my kind running unfettered, I have been perfecting a low profile since a kit. Also, being petite, Miss Temple is a forward-charging personality and seldom looks back, which also serves me well.
I think this tendency will serve her well as she finalizes her transition from association with an alpha male who is too busy roaming and fighting to a more domesticated male who will settle down with her in a peaceful routine without, Bast forbid, any kits of any species on the horizon.