Ruby was no ordinary cat. She wasn’t even an ordinary nosey cat. She was the neighbourhood’s unofficial pet detective, a self-proclaimed title she repeated to anyone who would listen, mostly pigeons, who never did. Her current case: The Case of the Missing Moonbeams. It began one Tuesday night when Ruby sat on the garden wall, … More Whisker Chaos

Ruby, neighbourhood cat extraordinaire, awoke at precisely 7:04 a.m. to find that the world was once again falling apart. By “world,” she meant the narrow suburban street she ruled from the perch of Mrs. Hargreaves’s crumbling garden wall. By “falling apart,” she meant one deeply disturbing phenomenon: hats were going missing. Trilbies, berets, sunhats, the … More Whisker Crimes

I had just settled into my premium, cashmere-lined Amazon box for the evening when the trouble began. And by “trouble,” I mean an unholy racket in the garden, the kind of noise that makes your whiskers twitch in irritation. Chirp. Chirp-chirp. Chirp-chirp-chirp. Pause. Chirp. It wasn’t normal chirping. This was… organised.Like they’d been to night … More The night of the crickets’ conspiracy

It all began when Mrs. Peabody from Number 7 waddled into the street wearing her pink fluffy dressing gown (and not much else, according to the horrified postman) shouting, “I’ve lost the TV remote AGAIN! That’s the third one this week!” As neighbourhood pet detective, I, Ruby the cat, immediately knew two things: I strolled … More Remote Hysteria

Ruby wasn’t your average feline. Sure, she licked her butt and knocked over cups of water with the casual cruelty of a Roman emperor, but by day, or more accurately, dusk, she was the self-appointed Pet Detective of Sycamore Crescent. She didn’t have a badge. She had a bell. And she hated it. “Betrayal is … More Tuna Panic

It was a quiet Tuesday on Pinecone Lane. The kind of quiet that cats don’t trust. The squirrels were pretending to be innocent, the birds were tweeting way too off-key, and—most disturbing of all—the mailboxes were humming. Yes, humming. Each one on the street was emitting a different jazzy tune, as if Miles Davis had … More Whisker Whaaaaat?!

It all began on a windy Wednesday morning, the kind of day that makes you suspicious of wheelie bins and question your life choices. Ruby, a tabby with delusions of grandeur and a Sherlock complex, had just completed her regular morning patrol of Lilac Crescent, a sleepy suburban street filled with overly decorative hedges and … More Mat Swap!

Ruby had a lot on her mind that morning. Mostly it was tuna, but also, the disappearance of every last drop of milk in the neighborhood. “Not even a splash left in Mrs. Dobbins’ cereal bowl,” whispered Pudding, the anxious golden retriever from three doors down. He trembled as if someone had threatened to replace … More The Cream Conspiracy

Ruby was not your average cat. She wasn’t sleek. She wasn’t graceful. She wasn’t even particularly well-behaved. What she was, however, was the unofficial and entirely self-appointed Pet Detective of Wisteria Lane. A street where lawns were trimmed, hedges were suspicious, and squirrels had recently… gone silent. She’d noticed it during her morning perimeter patrol, … More The Missing Chatter

Ruby, the self-declared “Neighbourhood’s Only Licensed Feline Private Investigator (Retired, But Available for Biscuits)” sat on the cold metal lid of a trash bin, tail twitching with suspicion. The park was quiet. Too quiet. Except for squirrels arguing over a half-eaten croissant like it was Versailles. She adjusted her imaginary fedora which, in reality, was … More Paw-sible Homicat