Cat In An Alphabet Endgame

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Midnight Louie’s Lives and Times…

A cat is said to have nine lives.

Where I live, on and off the Strip, the odds are your average hip but homeless street cat will be Las Vegas lucky to live three lives.

(I prefer “homeless” to mean “free to be me”, and I did quite well as a self-employed individual, finally becoming unofficial house detective at the Crystal Phoenix hotel-casino.).

One thing led to another, and now I reside at a cool condominium off the Strip, and volunteer as full-time bodyguard to Miss Temple Barr.

She is quite the fearless and feisty little doll, who has the advantage of looking as cute as a Yorkshire terrier that has just chewed your Christmas slippers to Kingdom Come while possessing the incisive insight of Miss Marple on speed.

We are quite the crime-fighting team, both of us being underestimated, which is annoying in my case because I am large and muscular for my breed, have all my hair follicles operating on full power, move with leopard-like grace, carry more razor-sharp blades than an infomercial Ginsu knife pitchman and, on top of that, am quite the dude with the ladies.

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