TCW 29: The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers by Lilian Jackson Braun

By Lilian Jackson Braun

Polly Duncan is off to Paris, quickly leaving Jim Qwilleran with out his girl better half. great thing there is plenty to maintain Jim busy. Like a mysterious dying from a bee sting that leaves every body yet Koko the Siamese in a country of bewilderment. If basically the kitty with sixty whiskers could cease pussyfooting round and allow Jim in at the lethal mystery

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MAN WITH LARGE MOUSTACHE:“What can I say? ” MAN:“Would you like to count them yourself? If I’m right, you can report the evidence to a scientific journal. ” WOMAN:“Fair enough! ” ONE The man with the large moustache (a well-groomed pepper and salt) was Jim Qwilleran, columnist for theMoose County Something and transplant from Down Below, as locals called the metropolitan areas to the south. They themselves, for the most part, were descended from the early settlers, and they had inherited the pioneer fortitude, sense of humor, and appreciation of individuality.

Qwilleran had done his part to encourage the novice, and although she was agood feature writer, she was hardly good enough to be forgiven for such cavalier behavior. Qwilleran asked, “Does anyone know if she took her cat? ” He made a mental note to ask Judd Amhurst at the Winston Park apartments. He disliked unanswered questions. Deadline for the Tuesday Qwill Pen was twelve noon, and Qwilleran filed his copy with the managing editor according to custom—not late, but not too early either. Junior Goodwinter glanced at the transcript and rang for the copy boy, and said, “Do you know a feature writer we could hire?

She repeated when he failed to respond. “It boggles the mind,” he said absently, watching the Siamese trying to get into the Kabibbles canister. ” After the Siamese had finished their bedtime repast and their washing up, Qwilleran escorted them up the ramp to their quarters on the top balcony. They looked around as if they had never seen it before, then hopped into their respective baskets and turned around three times before settling down. Cats. Who can understand them? Qwilleran thought, as he quietly closed their door.

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