Wishing you all a Wonderpurr Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and a Blessed Mew Year!
Wishing you all a Wonderpurr Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and a Blessed Mew Year!
Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective-Part 9
“What’s the Chewy.com box for?” I asked Dori.
“Wemember when I asked if yoo knew where babies come from? Yoo said storks. But I knew better. Yes, storks are involved, but they deliver babies that come from Chewy.com.”
“But what does a Chewy box have to do with getting me home?”
Dori assembled the cardboard into it’s box shape. “Simple, Hwermie. Yoo get into the box, and I bwing yoo home.”
“But Mosey moves away when I approach him.”
Dori gestured to the box. “Get in.”
I tried to hop inside, but the damp, soggy English weather had seeped into my old bones and I struggled. Finally Dori tipped the box on its side, I walked in, and she flipped the lid closed. I heard her ask Mrs. Gray for help. I felt the box leave the floor, but then I was jiggled around as Mrs. Gray chased after Mosey.
She finally placed the box on the floor and I rolled out. “It’s not going to work, Dori.”
Instead of tears I saw determination on my little sisfur’s pretty face. “It’s going to work, Hwermie. I’m gonna get yoo home. Or I’m staying here with yoo. Yoor my brofur and bestest furend. I’m never gonna leave yoo.”
Hi pals! I’m back from Thanksgiving hiatus. I hope everyone in Ameowica had a delicious Turkey Nom Day. To bring you up to date on my current adventure, I took Mosey back in time to meet my hero, Sherlock Holmes in order to get him to teach me how to be a master detective like he is. At first I couldn’t find 221B Baker Street. But then I got directions to where some guy named Doyle lived who knew Holmes. Turns out my hero isn’t flesh and blood. Rather he’s a fictional character in a mystery series written by Arthur Conan Doyle who killed him off right before I arrived in 1894. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.
I then met the real brains behind Sherlock Holmes: Doyle’s muse Fergus, a Bedlington Whippet cross who agreed to teach me how to solve mysteries like Holmes did. Unfortunately, Mosey and Fergus got into a fight and Mosey fled, not only the house, but the century, leaving me stuck in 1894. I wasn’t too worried at first, figuring he’d come back for me, but then my mom came to me while I was sleeping and told me Opie and Jack were having a hard time reconnecting me to Mosey. It looked pretty bad for me. I could be stuck in 1894 forever!
I’d made a very bad mistake. I should have never taken Mosey back to find my hero alone, without Dori. I told Fergus about my last case, called Welcome Home. How my family blamed me for Patty Kiss setting our home on fire. I didn’t want to be a purranormal detective anymore. I wanted to go home. I wanted my old life back. And I told Fergus about how that actually happened. I woke up back in my office in our old home, and thought everything I’d been through had been a dream. I also told him that I was suspicious of Dori and the others trying to make it seem like I was back to where I’d been before my first case, waiting for the phone to ring. Like I’d dreamed everything.
Fergus said, “You got what you wished for. You were returned to your old life, before you received your first purranormal case. So why did you time travel here? Especially if you wanted your old life back?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but then had to think about it. “I… I guess I got caught up in the idea of having a second chance to be successful. I didn’t like that I’d failed. Was a failure as a detective. I wanted to find Sherlock Holmes and have him teach me his secrets so I could start over and this time be a success.”
“Do you have any opinions on how you were able to have your old life back?”
“I’m thinking Charley, my Guardian Angel, had something to do with it. He always wanted me to be a success. But he also knew I was struggling. Maybe he got purrrmission to send me back to the beginning. Before I started to fail.”
“It would require a lot of energy to send—not only you, but your entire family back to the beginning.”
“Oh, there was a lot of emotion going on that last night. Seeing your home on fire, and fearing for someone to die will do that to you.” Read More
Previously on Heaven Can Wait-Part 2
“I want YOU,” Demon Loud Lady shrieked. “I’m here for YOU so Charley will come to your rescue, and then I will GET Charley!”
This was the a-ha! moment I’d been looking for. “Vivian, you need to get over your fixation on Charley. He’s moved on. You should too.”
“I want my house,” she roared in a dark voice that scared my whiskers straight. “He stopped me from coming back inside.” She abruptly shoved her face against her side of the bookcase, causing the upper half of my body to jerk back while my feet remain planted on the couch. “You helped him. If you don’t give me back my house, I will get you my pretty kitty, and your little sister too!”
Dori moaned behind me, but I didn’t dare react. She wanted our house. What would Mom and Dad say? And if Loud Lady didn’t have Charley—who did?
“Vivian. You’re in hell. Century 21 doesn’t sell real estate to bottom rung demons. Get over it. This house belongs to us now.”
The bookcase began to smoke. The room temperature plunged, ice cold. My whiskers sparked with electricity. My fur stood on end.
Jack murmured, “It just got creepy in here.”
I turned to see Opie by the door with Dori in his arms, her claws in his neck. Jack sat on the edge of the couch beside me, staring at a black mist seeping from the floor cracks, swirling around Candy who sat watching it as though in a trance.
“If I can’t have this house,” Loud Lady squealed, “then no one can!”
“Gotta go, Viv.” I slammed the book back into place, cutting off her outrage as the mist swirled around my sister. It didn’t drift or billow, though it moved like smoke. It looked more like a dense dark cloud shifting shape. It hovered around Candy for a few seconds, then disappeared inside her. Before our eyes Candy’s fur turned from autumn calico colors to blackest black.
“Mom’s gonna be really mad when she finds out,” I said after a moment. “Any idea what that was?”
We are so very Thankful for all of our friends, and wish you a Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving.
Love, Kimberley Koz, Herman, Dori and the Wonderpurr Gang.
And now…here’s Dori with her Thanksgiving Song:
While we are on holiday hiatus, here’s our Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries for you to enjoy.
We will be back December 1st.
It’s not “just a buck” to someone who is losing their life beause his human can’t afford emergency surgery. Every dollar is Desperately needed! You need to know more about Four Paws Lifeline? Click the photo to visit FourPawsLifeline.org.
I have the World’s Greatest Pet Sitter and when she mentions a change, I jump on it right away. So when she told me she thought Jesse, Nikolas and Chevy, whom she calls the Garage Band, needed music to fill the silence, I went looking for a radio.
No one carries radios anymore. Seriously, I went everywhere and found nothing. I even made the mistake of revealing my age when I asked someone if they carried transistor radios. He looked at me like I’d asked if they carried plutonium. I didn’t want to spend a lot. The Garage Band mostly sleeps when I’m out of town, and ordering on line didn’t appeal to me.
But! Just when I thought Michelle would have to hum Sound of Silence while feeding them, I found my Dad’s old stereo. He passed in 2009 and it ended up in a closet, unplayed for 8 years. Plus the speakers were missing. But after I dusted it off and I plugged a pair of computer speakers into the earphone slot, music poured out.
Right now my cats are listening to NPR. A classical symphony is playing. Michelle suggested Classic Rock, but I don’t think the boys would appreciate Steppenwolf, Steely Dan or The Who.
When Mosey had that fight with Fergus and zoomed without me back to the future, he’d broken our connection, inadvertently erasing my presence in 2017. Like I’d never existed! But me and my mom have a soulmate connection and she’d found me. She’d appeared to me looking like a red laser light, and said Jack and Opie were busy working to reconnect me to Mosey. But until they did… I would remain in 1894.
In order to distract me from totally fweaking out, I’d asked Fergus to teach me how to solve cases like Doyle wrote for Sherlock Holmes. Fergus was a Bedlington Whippet cross. He’s also the real brains behind the Sherlock Holmes detective mysteries. (I know, I’m as shocked as you that my hero is a legend of fiction and not a living breathing detective).
I didn’t know if I had the attention span, much less the desire to learn about the detective biz, but I was despurrrate to keep my mind busy on something other than the fact that I might never see my Mom or Dori ever again.
“A detective of Sherlock Holmes’ caliber continuously analyzes the details and looks for clues to possible solutions,” Fergus told me. “When Holmes goes about the business of searching for clues, he treats them like a puzzle with a missing piece, going to great lengths to find that missing piece so he can then move on to the next level of success.”
“Not at all. I can break it down into simple steps for you.”
We moved to Doyle’s office with the door closed so Mrs. Gray wouldn’t disturb us while Fergus recited the “simple” steps Doyle used to make Sherlock Holmes a Master Detective.
“Pay attention to the details, especially what might first appear to be insignificant,” Fergus was saying. “When you begin a case, start with the basics of what you already know to be certain, without question or exaggeration. Be alert when you’re talking to someone, yet behave in a passive manner so as not to influence the subject into elaboration.”
I know this was important stuff he was telling me, but his flat, Ben Stein-like monotone made it hard for me to keep my eyes open. Clearly he found it as boring to say as it was for me to hear. Read More
Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…
“I am happy to answer your questions, Fergus. But I traveled here to learn about being a Master Detective from Sherlock Holmes, and you said you’d share your secrets with me.”
“With your time machine gone, we have all the time in the world.”
“I don’t think so. I’m worried, but not fweaked out. I think Mosey will return for me.”
“Is fweaked out similar to being balmy on the crumpet? You Time Travelers have strange words for everything! Do they still use the heliograph in your time? Has miasma been eliminated? Tell me they still make roly-poly in the future! I do so love roly-poly.”
Closing my eyes, I placed my chin on top of my paws. Charlie! Please hear me. I need you to rescue me. I don’t want to be stuck in 1894. I can’t eat their noms. I have a delicate tummy. And I don’t want to widdle in the flower bed, or learn a whole new language!”
As sleep threaded its way through my body, Fergus’s voice faded and the shade on the inside of my eyelids went from firey-orange to torpor-black.
I found myself in a dark place with no light…cuz it was dark. I felt a soft rug under my paws, and the space wasn’t hot or cold…just right. At first I didn’t smell anything, but then something familiar found its way into my nose and I breathed in deep.
“Charlie?” I whispurred. “Is that you?”
The smell grew stronger. I took comfort from its familiarity. Then I saw a tiny red light in the darkness, hurling toward me. And when it arrived it was still no bigger than a pin point laser, darting back and forth in an enticing way that made me want to spring from my crouch to catch it.
“Herman? Oh, Herman! I’m so relieved I’ve found you.”
“Mom? Mom! Is that you?”
“It’s me, Monkey Boy! I’ve been worried sick ever since Mosey returned without you.”
“I want to come home. Tell Mosey to come get me.”
The red dot settled on top of my left paw. “First, tell me how you got separated.”
“Mosey got into a fight with Fergus, this dog who lives with a guy named Doyle. Did you know Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character in a book? I’m still in shock. I—”
“Herman! Focus! This is important. Charlie tried to come, but you went back in time before he was born and he’s unable to reach you. It is my love for you that has made this communication possible. But I don’t know how long I have. I need to know what happened.” Read More
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