The Kitten Files, Season One

by Perry Kirkpatrick

  I caught my breath, recognizing him as Dr. Creighton, the lead research scientist. He’d overseen a lot of my training at the lab.

  “Thank you all for coming today,” he said, “On behalf of the teams at Caput Laboratories, I would like to announce we’ve made significant progress in our study of animals and decoding. In our study, we found that given the right combination of our enhancing serums, mice could be taught to distinguish between letters of the English alphabet.”

  He went on for several minutes about their methods of using repetitive videos and food rewards to teach the mice who had been given the enhancing serum.

  “We have reached the conclusion of this study and will be publishing our findings in several prominent journals—although the serum will remain proprietary. The future of Caput Laboratories looks bright as my associate, Dr. Skinner—” he gestured to another man I recognized all too well as one of the “cereal robbers” from my third case “—will be overseeing our next project: teaching baboons to do simple mathematics.”

  The woman in the newsroom had more things to say—especially about the strange past actions of Dr. Skinner, but I barely heard her.

  I blinked my eyes and sneezed, emotion stealing over me.

  The study I’d been a part of was over. It was history.

  I could go home.

  Twelve

  I tried popcorn for the first time the next day. It was good. Salty.

  Fish crackers were still better.

  Spitz had expected me to leave right away after hearing Dr. Creighton’s announcement, but Tommy and I had made plans. As eager as I was to go home, I didn’t want to just run off.

  He was a great guy, and he deserved a proper goodbye.

  The Nativity Story movie was pretty cool. It showed the Maker of Cats coming as a baby to rescue the humans. They’d gotten themselves hopelessly lost and the rest of us with them.

  Pretty amazing that He likes us so much.

  Tommy sniffed a bit during the movie. Maybe he was coming down with a cold. Of course, it could have been a cat allergy surfacing, since I had settled in his lap. I hoped not, though, since I'd arranged for Keith to send the unwilling cat lady and her extra cats his way.

  ***

  When Tommy went to bed, I headed straight for the kitchen. I’d seen a pad of paper on one of the counters. I sat and stared at the page for a long moment where it lay, illuminated by cracks of moonlight seeping through the mini-blinds.

  Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to leave a note for Tommy?

  Yes, I decided, picking up the nearby pen in my mouth and guiding it across the paper with my paws. He deserved an explanation.

  Dear Tommy,

  I trust you not to tell a soul about this, but... I’m not an ordinary cat. I’ve been in hiding because I’m able to read and write, and certain nefarious people were looking for me. I’ve just learned it’s safe for me to go home to my owner now, but I wanted to leave you a note so you won’t worry when you discover I’m gone.

  You’ve been a great friend this past week. Thank you for taking me in. I’ve arranged for someone to come by sometime in the next few days with a cat who needs a home. A permanent one. You should ask about the circumstances. It’s quite the story.

  I took the tail end of a bag of fish crackers from your pantry the other night. I hope you—or whichever roommate they belonged to—don’t mind.

  Thanks again, and I hope you have a merry Christmas!

  Joe (although my name is really Mia)

  P.S.- there’s a hole in one of the basement windows you might want to fix.

  I laid down the pen and flexed my paws. That was the most writing I’d done in weeks without Keith around to hassle. The thought of him made me jump off the counter in a hurry; I had several blocks to walk, and I wanted to get started.

  I tiptoed down the hall for the last time. Popping the basement door open, I slipped through and pushed it shut behind me.

  In the darkness of the basement, I powered up my phone to check for messages from Keith. Nothing. It was Christmas Eve, but he hadn’t mentioned finding anything to do despite my hints. Now I hoped he was home.

  Wriggling into the phone harness took some time and a great deal of awkward contortions, but I managed it. I pulled myself through the broken window and into the cold, frosty night.

  Sniffing the wind to check for danger, I got my bearings and then set off in the right direction at a gallop.

  After running through cold shadows for a while, I began to recognize the neighborhood. It was Esplanade.

  That meant I was very close to our apartments. I hurried even faster. Sure enough, in another few moments, the bulky buildings of the complex rose up dark above the illumination of streetlights.

  Keith’s car was parked in its usual place, the windows already covered in frost. He was indeed home.

  I scampered to the metal stairs that would take me to the second floor.

  A light suddenly emanated from my phone harness. Had I gotten a notification? I stealthily took the stairs, and found a quiet, dark place on the landing.

  Working my phone out of its pouch, I saw it had automatically connected to Keith’s WiFi, and I had a new message from him on the secondary app.

  I pulled out the stylus and opened the message.

  I was just sitting here thinking... U would make a good detective partner if U ever felt like it. We R a good team. Anyway, merry Christmas.

  Had he really just invited me to be his detective partner? I re-read the message in glee. I checked the time. It was just after midnight—Christmas Day. This definitely qualified as a Christmas present of epic proportions.

  He thought I was good enough to be a real detective. And he wasn’t teasing either.

  I carried my phone in my mouth as I walked to our door. Setting it down, I crouched and scrawled out a reply.

  You’ve got yourself a deal. Open your door and we'll talk details!

  I waited.

  He should have received the message by now. Tipping my ears forward, I listened hard. Another slow moment passed before I finally heard footfalls on the other side of the door.

  My heart started thumping. Not that I was excited. Or nervous. Or emotional. Nope.

  The door swung open, and there was Keith looking tired and then utterly shocked.

  “M—Mia?” He squinted at me, rubbed his eyes, and squinted again. “Mia! You’re—okay! You’re home!”

  He narrowed his eyes and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Wait just a minute...”

  There it was. He was finally connecting the dots.

  I quickly scrawled out another message and tapped send. The phone he held buzzed.

  Oh, and merry Christmas to you, too!

  Want to know Mia's origin story?

  a Kitten Files Short Story Prequel

  Get Your FREE Copy Now!

  What do you do when you discover you're the first cat to learn to read?

  You run!

  Before Mia was the remarkable detective cat, she was a test subject at Caput Laboratories. When she begins to notice words jumping off the page, she's determined not to spend the rest of her life in the lab.

  Everything goes awry when her plan to intentionally fail her test backfires —badly. Can she make her escape with only her wits and her newfound reading skills? And will she make it in the big world outside the lab's walls?

  This is a short story prequel to The Kitten Files mystery series, and takes place several weeks before "The Case of the Tabloid Tattler." Average read time is approximately 20 minutes.

  Get Your FREE Copy Now!

  Preview of The 12 Cats of Christmas

  a related short story

  Indistinct Christmas tunes played over the store’s sound system, trying to make me feel happy. Keyword being trying.

  I held back a sniffle as I counted out the woman’s change. I could tell my weepiness was making her uncomfortable, but she didn’t comment. Her litt
le girl—who happened to be wearing a sweater with an embroidered dog on it—didn’t have any qualms.

  “Why are you crying? It’s Christmas time! Nobody should cry at Christmas time!” she lisped.

  Children and their candor!

  “Well,” I said, indulging in just a tiny sniff, “your sweater is reminding me of my bulldog, Bob. He died couple days ago.”

  The little girl’s face fell, and she said that was probably a good reason to be sad at Christmas time. Her mother whisked her away to regain some holiday cheer by visiting our in-store Santa who was set up just behind my register.

  “Gloooooo-o-o-o-o-o-RIA!” sang Amber, my excessively cheerful manager who also happened to be my best friend. This singing of my name had been happening every Christmas since I could remember. Normally it was fun. This year, nothing was fun.

  “What?” I said, frowning at her.

  “Would Bob want you this sad at Christmas time? Bob LOVED Christmas!”

  “Don’t remind me,” I sniffled. Bob had indeed loved Christmas. The rich food, the bows and ribbons and wrapping paper to shred, the mailman’s more frequent and highly-barkable visits to our front door to deliver packages.

  With no more customers to ring up at the moment, I turned and leaned my elbows on the low wall dividing my register from the “North Pole.” Amber was straightening a huge cardboard candy cane that was threatening to fall over. Nearby, a small line of local children waited in line to see Santa and his two attending elves.

  “I understand you miss your dog, but you’re gonna make all the kids and probably the adults cry if you keep it up,” Amber said. She tipped her head and giving me a searching look. “You know what you need?”

  “Time? Grief counseling?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What you need is a cat.”

  I didn’t answer. A cat was decidedly not what I needed, but I had another customer to ring up, so I turned around and plastered a smile on my face.

  ***

  Santa's shift ended before mine did, so the activity behind me ceased by the time I was closing down my register.

  "Whatcha doing this evening?" Amber asked, whisking by me with a stack of shopping baskets.

  "Umm..." I murmured, realizing I hadn't made any plans. The house was going to be awfully empty and quiet without my big dog around. "Guess I'll go try that new gym?" I said uncertainly.

  "Sounds like a good way to keep busy and work through grief," Amber said, nodding. "You'll have to let me know how the gym is. See you tomorrow!"

  As it turned out, the gym was definitely better than going home to a dogless house, but I realized I'd have to face that at some point. I decided I’d exercised enough to drive through Burger Bomb and eat a cheeseburger on my way home.

  It was dark and icy cold when I pulled into my driveway. The porch light glowed warm and yellow, inviting me in. I hopped out of my car, in a hurry to get inside my warm house. I stopped short when I reached the porch.

  A medium-sized cardboard box sat squarely in front of the door. I didn't remember ordering anything that was due to arrive. I stepped closer and inspected it. There was no address label and the box had holes punched in the sides.

  I unlocked my front door and set my purse on the entry table before hoisting the box over the threshold. Oddly, it felt a little warmer than the icy air playing tag in the alcove of my front porch. I closed the door and flipped on a couple more lights before kneeling beside the box.

  The 12 Cats of Christmas

  Available now!

  "What you need is a cat."

  When her beloved dog passes away just before Christmas, Gloria isn't sure about her best friend's advice. Holiday hilarity ensues when a new cat shows up on her doorstep each day. Who's leaving the cats? And why? Will Gloria's Christmas go up a poof of pet fur, or will it prove to be the most purrfect holiday ever?

  This is a short story (approx. 17 minutes reading time).

  About the Author

  Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick lives in an undisclosed location outside of Phoenix where she and her husband chase their four little boys and an escape-artist dog. They don't chase their cats, however, because cats hate that. She is the author of The Kitten Files mysteries, The Accidental Cases of Emily Abbott spy series, and multiple short stories.

  In addition to her writing, Perry enjoys graphic design, playing a number of musical instruments, and watching movies that make her laugh.

  Find her books, newsletter, and free stories at www.perrykirkpatrick.com.

  Facebook: tinyurl.com/Perryon-FB

  Instagram: instagram.com/perryelisabeth1

  Let me know what you think. I love hearing from readers!