Cat In An Alien X-Ray

Miss Temple Barr and I make perfect roomies. She tolerates my wandering ways. I play her bodyguard without getting in her way. Call me Muscle in Midnight Black. We share a well-honed sense of justice and long, sharp fingernails and have cracked some cases too tough for the local fuzz. She is, after all, a freelance public relations specialist, and Las Vegas is full of public and private relations of all stripes and legalities.

Our most recent crime-busting adventure took us deep into a conspiracy of magicians that resulted in a string of murders being solved, while some remain unsolved.

That Neon Nightmare club, now shut down, was also the site of a key incident in this ongoing tangle. That event was a shakedown, not a murder. And—I must blush to admit, if I ever do anything as wimpy as blush—I was not there to witness this event, in the course of protecting my Miss Temple. I hear on good authority that two takeover thugs (wearing concealing masks and cloaks à la Mr. Darth Vader of film fame) crashed a meeting of the conspiring magicians who called themselves “the Synth.” The pair demanded at gunpoint the Synth members present hand over a hoard of concealed cash. In my absence, the Las Vegas feral cat pack, led by Miss Midnight Louise (no relation) made the invading pair into props for an Olympics-level scratching post claw-down. The Vaders fled, trailing blood, but remain anonymous.

So, there is much private investigative work left for me to do, as usual.

Then you get into the area of private lives. I say you get into that area. I do not. I remain aloof from these alien matters among humans. Why can they not be sensible and let Mother Nature or a visit to the vet for what is called “altering” arrange these things? Or resort to breeders, aka “matchmaking sites,” if you are of the tony, pedigreed sort? While it is important that humans assist in discouraging the overpopulation of our kind, when it comes to their own mating behavior, there is an overpopulation of indecision and angst.

I do not see how having two perfectly adequate males as a selection for one’s life mate is a problem. If, unlike me, you have not had the happy procedure that allows me to be a bon vivant simultaneously entertaining multiple dating possibilities whilst not littering irresponsibly … you are out of luck, so get over it and go monogamous for life. Otherwise, I can recommend a good surgeon who tosses in a free tummy tuck with the deal.