June 16, 2017

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Sherlock Herms in… A Meatball Lunch with a Side Order of Clues

Sherlock Herms in… A Meatball Lunch with a Side Order of Clues

Previous episode:  Sherlock Herms in Ghost Hunter Blues.

Sprawled on a bench across the road from our house in the town of Welcome Home, I absently watched a dozen piping plovers skip along the sandy beach. There was no cool breeze to ruffle my floofy fur as summer had settled like a steamy wet blanket over the Mitten State. Plus the air stank of dead fish (and not in a yummy way.)

I felt depressed. Splintered into pieces. Everyone was mad at me.

Dottie the ghost girl had disappeared while I was having fun at Blogpaws, a pet bloggers conference where I go every year to hang out with my fans. It wasn’t my fault. I’d run out of time and couldn’t help her find the Light before we left town. But Dori blamed me, and so did Charley and the others.

I didn’t care. Let them be mad. It was high time I took control of my life instead of letting Dori and Charley and my WAD team lead me around by the choke chain.

I’m not selfish. I appreciate that sometimes dead hoomons need help. But why me? Others were available to help, like James Van Praagh, John Edward, and the new kid, Tyler Henry—the Hollywood Medium. They talked to dead hoomons all the time. In fact, the kid had an unnaturally cheerful way of doing it. The right attitude!

I wanted to be a detective. Search for clues. Solve mysteries—and not about why a hoomon got dead. That stuff depressed the dickens outta me. I was on the eighth of my nine lives. Time was running out. I wanted to spend my remaining life doing happy stuff.

So I told Charley and my WAD team that I was closing the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. Closing it right after I found out why Dottie the ghost girl got dead, and maybe helped her find the Light. I had to help her. Dori said it was the right thing to do, and I agreed.

I had a notebook open beside me filled with scribbles. Tyler Henry scribbled when he channeled what dead hoomons wanted to tell him. So far all I had was squiggles and doodles, and car-paw tunnel from holding my purple crayon too tight.

As I set my notebook aside, I heard mew-sic behind me. I turned to see Dori strumming a pink toy guitar. Read More

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