A Chapter in the Life of Detective Frizzywhiskers

It was an early morning, at the point of time when night just runs into early Dawn, and--as they rub shoulders in passing one another--well, there you have a new day. I was slouched in my easy chair, for I had stayed up most of the night working on the upcoming chase and a review of our new convicts’ backgrounds. All my papers were still piled up around me; I guess my head was somewhere in the middle of all the work, pillowed on my desk. A small box of cat nip sat beside my half eaten doughnut, and the remains of a warm cup of milk sat beside it.

I had finally fallen asleep, after many hours of paperwork, organizing files and laying out my work plan for the next day. I was in one of my “cat naps” which I frequently took. The tired brain of the detective had just stopped to rewind and be ready for the next assignment. Then, in the stillness of a dreamless sleep...trip, trip--trip, trip--what was it? My ear was magnetically pulled in the direction. Trip, trip--trip, trip--sound waves I guess. What was I to worry about? But no, my ear didn’t understand that I needed to sleep; it just kept pulling me in that direction. Slowly, I allowed my ear to drag my head half way across the table, slowly creeping towards the annoying little sound that attracted my nerve endings. Without my consent, all the fur on my neck began to stand up. I tried to think of happy thoughts to stop the prickling process--my cat nip, a pedicure, fancy feast treats...nothing worked. My fur just continued to rise on end. There was a ringing in my ears now; the magnetic force was urging, begging me to turn my head to the noise....trip trip--trip trip--TRIP TRIP! TRIP!!!

“Ring, ring, ring!” Instinctively I grabbed the phone. “Hello,” I said, “This is Detective Frizzy Whiskers speaking for Emergency Calls...what is your name?” I had to wait a few moments; the poor mother on the other side was crying so hard it took her a little effort to answer. I waited patiently for almost a minute before she sniffed, “Mr. Frizzy Whiskers?”

“Yes,” I replied, shoving the last bit of my doughnut into my mouth and sipping the cream off my milk.

“Mr. Frizzy Whiskers,” she continued, “Are you the real Detective Frizzy Whiskers--the one that has taken in so many cases for those who cannot speak their case themselves?”

“Yes,” I replied, sitting up a little in my chair and taking in my breath, “I am.”

“Well then, sir,” she sobbed, “You are prepared for any case, under any circumstances, that you may be led to take up?”

“Yes,” I replied, feeling a little doubtful, “I am.”

“Well than, Mr. Frizzy Whiskers, listen to the case I have for you, and, if you still feel that he can be saved--please do!” she moaned.

“Yes, miss. Tell my your case,” I exclaimed, scratching along the table for a pen and scrap of paper to take down the description.

“Ok,” she sighed, “I know you speak for those who cannot, help those who cannot help themselves, and provide for those who have been abandoned by all others. Is that not true, Sir?”

“Yes ma’am; it is.”

“Alright then. I have a small, very young mouse who is,--well, is--skitsifrenic, and is trapped in a drain pipe--one that even Toby can’t fit down, and he’s a canine!”

I struggled against my fears as I took down her description; a drain pipe meant water, one of my worst fears,--and a mouse, well, we won’t go there. I knew that, in the department of law, your food may turn into family.

“Ma’am,” I boldly stated, “Whatever the danger, I can do it.”

“Oh--oh, thank you, Mr. Frizzy Whiskers. I knew you could save him.”

“Where is your house, miss?” I continued, rigidly refusing to swim in compliments.

“Oh, yes. It’s--uh, Twenty-third street, down the back alley, across the road and--sir, please be careful when you cross it--and then you’ll see the drain pipe.”

“Across the road...” I muttered, hastening to scribble a description. “That would be dangerous. Yes ma’am; I will be there within a night-hunt.”

“How long is that?” she asked in surprise.

“Well, as you would say...about, thirty minutes.”

“Alright; Thank you again, Detective Frizzy Whiskers, sir. Good--good bye.”

“Good bye,” I sighed.

Right then; now I would have to prepare for whatever the danger--a possibility being hit by a car, a wild dog chase, or drowning in the drain pipe--nothing to it! I would be back before three hours could skip by.

Having prepared by putting on my trusty white coat (which had no buttons) and applying a cover scent in case of dogs, I sprang from my chair, shoving the small box of cat nip in one of my large coat pockets, and was presently seen running down the hall. I was headed for the Chief’s office, for I would have to tell him my errand in order to leave the building. I pounced onto his desk and sat with all paws patiently rattling their claws on the table till the chief finished a phone call. I then said, “Chief Sharpkin?”

He looked up quickly on seeing me. “Ah, yes Detective Frizzy Whiskers! What may I do for you?”

“I have been given an emergency call, sir, for the safety of one of our--smaller citizens.”

“Ah--yes. I see; well, you may go now--but if you receive any calls while you are gone, I will have to put them on your waiting list as home work.”

“Yes, Chief Sharpkin,” I replied with determination, for I must get back before that. I lightly dropped off the table, and, once out of his office, ran to the nearest exit in the building.

Once on the sidewalk outside, I checked my notes to see what I must do next. Twenty-third street, down the back alley, across the road--that was it. With a quick look in the appropriate direction, I continued on down the sidewalk of Twenty-third street; for, as you know, if I was to run on the road, I might get hit.

Now we come to the difficult part--crossing the road. I carefully scurried to a halt and sat down to think. There were no cars coming; there were no wild dogs in the road that I could see; there were no pedestrians crossing. Well! it seemed the way was clear. I therefore began to cross, holding my tail up as high as possible so any on-coming cars could see me. Then came the dreaded moment--a dog--was in the road. Remember, remain calm; that’s all I had to do. I pretended not to notice him, though he was running right at me, very becoming of a dog when he sees a cat. I was just beginning to stretch out my claws in preparation for defense when—suddenly, something came whizzing at my head. Instinctively, I sprang away, whipped about, and found myself staring at a brown paper package. Whether it contained catnip or drugs, I have no idea, but the last thing I remember was a strange smell of arsenic…