Sitting in the office, I was set the task of pouring over the Kontinental Kat’s report on a gang of D. O. G. S. who were terrorizing neighbourhoods filled with stray cats. Some claimed the dogs were terrorists for hire (or as the report liked to call them ‘domestic American breeds’) and some in the media tried to spin it by blaming the victims and making it the fault of us ca...

*This one is dedicated to the legendary Mr. Tibbs, whom never refused a tasty morsel and kept the cat world amused for a long time. It was one year, this week (6 April) that he went OTRB . There was never a sweeter natured cat anywhere. Nor as much love shared. Miss you, Babe. J. W.

Now, for the conclusion of The Case of The Lost Inheritance . . .

I do...

“Are you not eating, young Dash?” The Kontinental Kat asked, full of concern for my well-being.

I sat at my desk and eyed the salmon cube treats. Sighing deeply, I meowed, “I can’t eat. Not since Savoy told me about her ‘date’ with P. C. Pumps . . .”

“Ah . . . Problems of the heart have rendered you incapable of proper nourishment. A most perplexing dilemm...

As soon as the police arrived, the Kontinental Kat and I handed over the note and told Inspector Magic all we knew. Granted, that was not much. Nor would it have been very constructive for the police but it seemed the black Persian needed our help anyway.

“What happened here?” He took a long, hard, suspicious-filled look at my Boss.

“That . . .” The Kontin...