Ruby, full-time cat, part-time diva, and accidental neighbourhood detective, was deep in her afternoon nap when the call came in. And by “call,” we mean Mr. Pepper, the parrot next door, screaming through the open window: “RUBYYYY! THE HOSE! IT’S GONE! AGAIN!” Ruby lifted one eyelid with the kind of disdain only a cat of … More Soggy squirrels

If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s this: I, Ruby Whiskerford, am the undisputed Pet Detective of Maple Lane.Not self-appointed. Actually appointed. By whom? Myself, of course. But officially. With a hat.(Okay, it was a muffin paper Kira the toddler put on my head, but symbolism matters.) For weeks, the humans had … More Criminally chaotic doorknobs

Ruby, the neighbourhood’s only feline private detective, perched dramatically on top of the fence post, her tail flicking like a metronome set to “mysterious suspense.” The moon was full, the air smelled faintly of wet leaves and Mrs. Dobbins’ lasagne (always a factor in Ruby’s decision-making process), and the garden below shimmered with tiny glowing … More The case of the disco fireflies

I, Ruby, am a cat. But not just any cat. I am the neighbourhood’s premier, occasionally terrifying, frequently fabulous pet detective. My cases are usually straightforward: missing sardines, suspicious laser-pointer activity, or the unsolved mystery of who keeps stealing Mrs. Pennington’s prized sock collection. But today …oh today, I had stumbled into the biggest, strangest, … More Ruby and the topiary of doom

Ruby, the sleek, velvet-pawed neighbourhood detective, had a nose for trouble. And by “nose,” I mean literally, her nostrils were the size of small teaspoons and could detect tuna-flavoured crisps from three blocks away. Today, however, her usually unflappable feline confidence faced its greatest challenge yet: the mysteriously replaced bird bath. The neighbourhood, a sleepy … More Ruby and the scent-sational bird bath caper

It was a dark and stormy night. By which I mean, of course, that my human, Mrs. Blenkinsop, had left the bathroom light on again and I was glaring at it like a true connoisseur of shadow and menace. But there was more to this night than mere human negligence. Something was very wrong in … More The great fractal caper

Ruby, the neighbourhood’s most opinionated and thoroughly self-assured feline detective, was lounging on the garden fence with one paw dangling dramatically, surveying her domain like a small, striped queen. Her tail flicked once, an alert signal that she was ready to spring into action at the first sniff of mystery, snack, or particularly juicy gossip. … More Ruby and the case of the puddle selfies

It was a Tuesday. Or a Thursday. Honestly, Ruby didn’t keep track of weekdays. Her life consisted of two things: observing humans make fools of themselves, and asserting her undisputed reign as the neighbourhood’s top pet detective. Ruby, a sleek tortoiseshell with eyes the shade of suspicious limes, was stretched across Mrs. Dunlop’s garden fence, … More Ruby and the case of the vanishing pots

It was a night so dark that even the streetlamp on Mrs. Piggott’s corner was humming in protest. I, Ruby, the neighbourhood’s only, some would say finest, pet detective, was prowling my usual beat. My tail twitched with that delicious thrill known only to cats and detectives who really understand the word “thrill.” The moon … More Ruby and the case of the firefly fiasco

Ruby was not, in any official sense, a detective. She had no badge, no trench coat, no magnifying glass. What she did have, however, was a tail with the balance of a tightrope walker, the patience of a Buddhist monk (if said monk was addicted to tuna), and an unerring instinct for trouble. Trouble, of … More Paw Prints