Diary of a Snoopy Cat

by R. F. Kristi

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  LEGAL NOTICE

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 BY R.F. KRISTI

  WWW.INCABOOKSERIES.COM

  NO PART OF THIS WORK MAY BE TRANSMITTED OR REPRODUCED BY ANY MEANS OR IN ANY FORMAT, ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL, INCLUDING RECORDING OR PHOTOCOPYING OR USING ANY FORM OF MANUAL REPRODUCTION, OR WITH ANY INFORMATION STORAGE/RETRIEVAL SYSTEM, WITHOUT OBTAINING PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER OF THIS WORK.

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  PUBLISHED BY: R.F. KRISTI

  (WWW.INCABOOKSERIES.COM) -

  FIRST EDITION

  Copyright © 2017 R.F. Kristi

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  TO

  My mentor Alinka Rutkowska for her motivational guidance.

  My editor Amithy Moragoda Alles for her inspiration & attention to detail.

  &

  My illustrator Jorge Valle for his talent in bringing the Inca series to life - in the most wonderful manner.

  The team at Video Explainer for their contribution to the cartoons.

  My “Family Tree”

  Contents

  Take A Peek @ My Family:

  RAMBLE ... RAMBLE ... PREAMBLE

  12 Days Before Christmas

  11 Days Before Christmas

  10 Days Before Christmas

  9 Days Before Christmas

  8 Days Before Christmas

  7 Days Before Christmas

  6 Days Before Christmas

  5 Days Before Christmas

  4 Days to 1 Day Before Christmas

  Christmas Day

  Take A Peek

  @ My Family:

  INCA (ME):

  I am a Siberian kitty, and we Siberians are a pretty good-looking bunch.

  I am the natural leader of the Troupe.

  There are several reasons for this.

  After all,

  I am the eldest and the BIG sis of the furry pack!

  I am a super smart kitty!

  I bet you, you wouldn’t find any kitty smarter than me, even if you swam all the way to China. Mom does not know it, but I AM the TOPSTER around here.

  CARA:

  Cara, a Siamese kitty, is my pretty sister.

  She is the prissy one in our family.

  She is always well-groomed, prim and proper and very attached to Mom.

  She is mom’s pet. She can do no wrong in Mom’s eyes and Cara loves to suck up to her. Ugh!

  FROMAGE:

  My brother Fromage is a Tabby-cat. Fromage was named after the French cheese he adores, as fromage means cheese in French.

  Fromage loves cheese, any type of cheese, period. He also considers himself a great cheese expert.

  Fromage is the mascot of our cheese shop. He goes to the shop with Mom every day. He has built himself a following in the cheese loving circles of London.

  He strongly believes that our cheese shop is a triumph because of him.

  Fromage is also accident-prone and in the habit of getting into all types of scrapes. If you find something broken in our household, you can bet your bottom dollar that Fromage was behind it!

  CHARLOTTE:

  Charlotte is a Roborovski dwarf hamster and Fromage’s best buddy.

  She had met Fromage in our cheese shop in Paris and decided to come with us to London.

  Charlotte is devoted to Fromage despite the number of pickles he gets himself into. I don’t understand this friendship between Fromage and Charlotte. Charlotte is intelligent and sharp. Whereas, Fromage is??? Well, Fromage is Fromage.

  Fromage likes to yap non-stop and Charlotte likes to listen. This may be the main reason why they are good friends.

  Fromage gets jealous if anyone tries to become too friendly with Charlotte.

  MISSY (MOM):

  Mom is a humanoid jointly owned by us.

  The humanoids call her Missy, but she is Mom to us kitties.

  Mom runs our cheese shop. The cheese shop is situated in the heart of Kensington. It is modeled on our successful cheese shop in Paris.

  We let Mom get away with thinking that she owns us, when it is us kitties who actually own Mom.

  Our world revolves around Mom, but she has a bee in her bonnet about things that we kitties never care about.

  Our food

  Our diet is carefully controlled by Mom much against our wishes.

  No amount of twirling and meowing around her feet can change her mind when she prepares dinner. Even looking at her with adoring eyes gets us nowhere.

  Drat!!!! Drat!!!! & Treble Drat!!!

  Mom’s NO! NO! Food List for us Kitties

  No cream

  No bacon

  No ice-cream

  No pizza

  No good stuff!!!!!!

  Our cleanliness

  Mom is a clean freak! When we least expect it – out come our fur cleaning brushes.

  Fromage tries to hide as soon as she gets out our brushes.

  But Cara puts on her prissy look and actually purrs when Mom brushes her, her blue eyes blinking like two glorious sapphires - aimed solely at Mom.

  Fromage usually snarls “traitor” at her as he dashes under the sofa.

  But does she care?

  NOooooo!

  I pretend to protest too, but I can’t help liking the brush strokes on my fur. In any case, you can’t stop Mom when she gets into her “clean the kitties” mood.

  So why not enjoy it?

  AUNT FLORENCE:

  Aunt Florence is Mom’s humanoid Aunt.

  I am not shy to say that Aunt Florence dotes on me.

  She is the only family Mom has apart from us. Aunt Florence used to live in the cottage we occupy in Kensington, London. Aunt Florence now lives in Provence, France.

  NOW THAT YOU HAVE HAD A PEAK AT MY FAMILY, LET’s GET TO THE EXCITING STUFF!!!

  RAMBLE ... RAMBLE ... PREAMBLE

  One Saturday Morning in early December:

  My life was becoming SOooooo exciting!

  It was about the time that I started writing a Diary!

  You may ask - Why a Diary for a Puddy Kat??? - !!!

  The reason is simple.

  Since arriving in London from Paris with my family, I had been involved in my very first detective adventure.

  From that time onwards, I had fantasized on becoming the world’s smartest cat detective.

  No. 1 Celebrity Snoopy Kitty in the World

  Writing my Diary became important as I was on my way to making my dream a reality. Hence, what better way to keep track of my success stories other than recording my snoopy adventures?

  I decided that I was already the best snoopy cat in London.

  No doubt about that!

  My fame would soon spread to other parts of the country and then beyond, even to my home town Paris in France.

  I imagined my kitty friends in Paris hearing about the famous snoopy cat.

  They would recognize me with wonder.

  Some would say it was “meant to be” and recognize me as a super-duper detective cat – a detective cat ‘par excellence!’

  Others would be jealous and claim that it was “mere chance”.

  There was no doubt about it - even the jealous kitties would be forced to recognize a world-famous cat detective!

  Sneaking an empty note-book from Mom’s desk when she was not looking had been a breeze.

  The adventu
res of Inca the Siberian wonder cat, the best-known detective kitty in the planet, would become a masterpiece --- A sure hit --- A best-seller!

  Who could resist snoopy kitty stories such as mine?

  Yes --- my detective powers would get me on the road to stardom.

  The time was right to get started as Christmas was around the corner. There was a feeling of tingling excitement in the air.

  No doubt about it! Christmas was my favorite time of the year. The smell of pine trees, the shiny decorations and most of all our presents under the twinkling stars of our Christmas tree.

  I had told Cara and Fromage about my Diary and all they wanted to know was how important their role would be in my Diary.

  “Let’s see,” was all I would promise.

  I heard a murmur of “smarty pants” from Cara that I pretended to ignore.

  This was MY Diary and I would decide what I write in it.

  So there!!!

  Smarty pants, indeed!

  No way was I going to let my sis and bro take over my Diary. I could imagine what it would become:

  From Fromage – Long rigamarole about his wonderful French cheese!!!!

  From Cara – The latest in scarves and how to make yourself pretty!!!!!

  I imagined, in a dreamy state, a crowd of doggies bowing to my superior intelligence.

  YESSS!

  I would be Inca, the detective cat par excellence!

  Never would a cat be Sooooo adored by the masses.

  Bravo! Inca

  12 Days Before Christmas

  Sunday, Late Evening:

  I suddenly had a strange feeling that we were being watched.

  Missy our Mom had lit a fire in the fireplace and the wood was crackling brightly. The cottage was warm and cozy despite the cold outside.

  It was a typical evening in the Inca household. Cara, Fromage, Charlotte and I were seated around the fireplace with Mom, the young humanoid we jointly owned.

  Thinking I was imagining being watched, I shook my head and settled down.

  The strange feeling of being watched crept back again.

  Not wanting to disturb the others, I cautiously peered out of the window. There was nothing there - just darkness with a little light from the large luminous moon overhead.

  I circled around on the same spot and settled down again with my face turned towards the window, just in case ALIENS from outer-space attacked us through the window.

  Just as my eyes started to close, I saw a shadow moving outside the window. I opened my eyes wide and looked. But there was nothing there. Just the stillness of a very dark night.

  Suddenly, I caught sight of two shiny green eyeballs staring at me.

  My heart stood still!

  Was it a demon?

  Was it a fire-eating dragon??

  Was it a slithering serpent???

  Was my greatest fear about to become a reality? Were the Aliens out to get us????

  My heart started beating wildly going –

  I saw a strong, big, gray paw stretching out towards me and the fur on the back of my neck rose like a porcupine ready for battle.

  Then it dawned on me that the portly figure in the window, appearing and disappearing, was only the face of our friend Monk!!

  I let out a slow breath and my heart gradually returned to a normal rhythmic beat.

  Monk, a Blue Russian cat with long legs and large golden-green eyes was rather handsome and sleek - if you go for the chunky type. He always sported a bright, red, bow-tie.

  Monk was a pretty clever kitty.

  Don’t get me wrong. Most cats are naturally intelligent. But I had noted that Monk was far brainier than most of the kitties I had met. I suppose you could call him a NERDY cat.

  Monk lived next door to us with Solo (a world-famous detective), his assistant Hobbs, and Terrance a big dog.

  Terrance was Monk’s best friend and a great doggie-detective himself.

  I got up slowly so as not to disturb the others, leaped out of the window and joined Monk under the thick shrub separating our cottage from the sprawling garden in front of his large house.

  “What’s up Monk?” I softly purred.

  The calm and easy-going Monk looked pretty shaken.

  My ears tingled and the fur on the back of my neck that had flattened, once again pricked up when I sensed how upset he was.

  “You OK?” I meowed, beating down my own panic.

  Monk gulped and responded in his usual unhurried meow making an effort to squash his alarm.

  “You kitties have to come over tonight. Terrance has some unexpected news for us,” he murmured.

  I promised him that we would, as soon as Mom fell asleep.

  I hurried back to the others to break the news, wondering what was troubling the usually calm Monk.

  Sunday Night:

  The night was pitch black when we scampered over to Monk’s home. Compared to our small and modest cottage, Monk lived in a huge and fancy house. But we loved our little cottage and wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

  We padded across the great kitchen, with Fromage stopping to sniff at the tempting plate of cream left for Monk by Hobbs.

  “Come on Fromage,” Cara hissed. “Monk will not be too pleased if you dig into his snack without asking him.”

  “No way Cara, Monk is my pal!” responded Fromage as he stuck out his tongue at Cara.

  He followed us nevertheless, looking back longingly at the full plate of cream.

  Monk and Terrance were sitting together in a warm room, in front of a huge fireplace where the wood was still crackling.

  At first, I had been surprised by Monk’s friendship with Terrance.

  How could a smart cat like Monk be so pally with a dog?

  Then I had got to know Terrance myself, and I was forced to change my mind.

  We kitties had a poor opinion of dogs. But Terrance was someone that even us cats had grown to like and respect.

  To be honest, our opinion of doggies had slowly changed.

  We had never moved around with doggies before arriving in London. We never wanted to either. We had treated them as dreadful furry beasts somewhat on the sniffy side.

  It was different now. We had two good doggie friends that we hobnobbed with daily.

  Terrance and Polo!

  Terrance was a powerful dog, a golden retriever with long gold hair. He is one smart doggie despite his rather sappy grin and his pink, drooling, floppy tongue.

  He was famous for having helped Solo solve many detective cases.

  If there was one thing I respected, it was his popularity with both the animal kingdom and the two-legged humanoid friends around us.

  Never mind his foolish grin and drooling tongue.

  I could do with some of that popularity myself.

  Terrance usually went everywhere with Solo and Hobbs.

  Solo had sent Terrance to a well-known training school for dogs. Solo was not sorry to have done so as Terrance had topped his class at the Canine Search and Rescue academy. Terrance was a valuable partner in the detective agency headed by Solo.

  I was impatient to find out what Terrance was up to now.

  Terrance wagged his tail when he saw us and gave us a welcoming grin. Monk jumped up from his favorite chair and came to welcome us.

  “Anyone wants some fresh cream?” he purred in his croaky meow.

  “Thank you, NO,” responded Cara before Fromage or I could get a word in, “we all had our dinner before coming.”

  Fromage glared at her.

  Knowing my brother well and that he would get into a brawl right away, I quickly changed the subject.

  “Terrance, what is going on?” I meowed.

  “Some important news concerning Raoul, Polo’s missing dad!” said Terrance once we had settled down in our usual places in the library.

  I need to explain about Polo our pal and his sad family state.

  Polo is a Pekinese doggie. He is short and just a tiny bit bigger
than me.

  We had got to know Polo when we moved to London from Paris in June this year. For some reason or other, he had developed a special place in his heart for Charlotte.

  There had been some jealousy between Fromage and Polo over Charlotte. I was relieved that this was now ancient history.

  Polo was owned by Señora Conchita Consoles, commonly known as the Señora, a popular opera singer, now retired.

  The Señora had lost her husband Raoul who went missing while climbing Mount Everest in the Himalayas. She had been sad until we came on the scene.

  She was slowly recovering from the loss of Raoul. But we knew that Polo and the Señora both missed Raoul terribly.

  We had become good friends after we helped Polo during the mystery of the Señora’s stolen diamond necklace.

  The outcome had been surprising but fantastic, despite the anxiety of Fromage’s disappearance and the discovery of the necklace in a very odd place.

  It was at that time that I had been smitten by the detective bug. I longed to be involved in another case, and become a famous detective myself.

  Terrance continued his story in short barks while we listened all agog.

  “Solo brought home some news that would send Polo over the moon, if it turns out to be true.

  “Solo has an old friend who works for Doctors Without Borders in Nepal.

  “On a recent trip to London, the young doctor told Solo that he had heard of a foreigner, injured who was being cared for by some locals in a village near the Himalayas.

  “From the brief description, Solo suspected that it maybe Señora’s husband Raoul.

  “We are going to the Himalayas to check this out since Solo is not sure if it is really Raoul, Polo’s master.

  “If either the Señora or Polo hears about this news and it turns out to be someone else, they would be really upset.