Claire Donally | Cat-tastrophes and Hiss-teria

Many of the folks reading the Sunny and Shadow mysteries tell me that they especially like the sections from Shadow's point of view. As an author, I have to admit some of the funniest bits come from Shadow's complete incomprehension of human behavior. It brings a whole new meaning to the term “cat mystery.” I also try to investigate various part of the feline psyche. For instance, the cover for Hiss and Tell perfectly illustrates what I like to call Shadow's “oops” factor. I had a lot of fun creating a scene showing the maximum destructiveness a small, furry critter can instigate.

Let's face it, take a hefty dose of curiosity and an equal disdain for consequences, and you have the recipe for all kinds of cat-tastrophes. You know the kind of thing to expect – the search for the pot of gold at the end of the toilet paper roll, or the scientific inquiry into the aerodynamic qualities of small objects launched from high places – with extra points if the item is filled with some dark fluid to make Rorschach designs on the floor.

I didn't have to research, just ask cat people, “What's the most mayhem Fluffy ever created?” and I got grist for the mill suitable to cover at least a dozen Sunny and Shadow adventures. Here are some stories friends shared with me. I'll leave out ones like the hairball from hell or the attempt to use a pint of soil from a small flowerpot to cover the results of horrendous lower gastric distress.

No, I've got stories like the one my friend Kathleen tells about her two cats, Dinoot and Beethoven, when visitors came to call. Dinoot, a kitty with the heart of a lion, took the doorbell as an intruder alert and charged to the entrance to check for possible enemies. Beethoven, a scaredy-cat, made a beeline in the opposite direction to hide under the couch. Inevitably, their paths crossed, and the person outside would hear collision, catfighting, and general chaos. “I could tell them quite literally 'welcome to my world,'” Kathleen says.

My old work buddy JoAnne has a tale of Sewercat, a stray rescued from a storm drain. Despite having lived in a house for quite some time, Sewercat reverted to the jungle after JoAnne collected some tall, frondy shoots in a large planter. The cat thought she was back on the African savannah, camouflaged in a canebrake, perhaps waiting for a passing antelope. Instead, JoAnne found her all too conspicuous – especially since she'd crushed half the plants down. At least now Sewercat avoids the plains of the Serengeti in the spare room and restricts her safaris to spelunking under the comforter on the bed.

Another former colleague, Liz, contributed a tale of holiday mayhem. Her cat took it into his head (and mouth) to see how some lovely-looking decorative ribbons would taste. No harm – or not much – until Kitty stopped eating and began acting lethargic. A visit to the vet resulted in a “ribbon-ectomy” and four figures worth of damage to the family checking account.

But my favorite tale of feline homewrecking involves my own first apartment. My mom saw my move to Greenwich Village as an excuse to redecorate the living room, and I got the old stuff – a couch, an armchair, end tables, and a pair of lamps. I guess you could call the lamps Midcentury Modern, tall, sort of hookah-shaped things with cylindrical tops and bulbous bases. They were plaster, painted black with gold highlights on a corrugated surface. And after my roommate brought home an abandoned, half-weaned kitten, those lamps were not long for this world.

The lamps were much taller than Theo (we weren't sure at first whether he was a Theodora or a Theodoric – this is what happens when a history major chooses the names), and to begin with, probably matched him in weight. But he persevered, pushing away unless he got distracted or one of the two-legged inhabitants of the apartment raised a fuss. Most often, however, I'd come home to discover one or both of the lamps on the floor. And, over a couple of months, the two lamps were in pieces.

It was a dark living room, these were the only lights, and we didn't have the budget to buy decent replacements. Our fix involved a trip to the five and dime, finding these gizmos that combined a lamp socket – the part where the bulb goes – and an adjustable cork to go in the neck of a bottle. Our matching lamps became a pair of Night Train Express bottles, a vintage not much favored by discriminating palates.

Theo never touched the replacements. They survived to light the living room in my brother's first apartment, and I believe he still has them hidden somewhere in his basement. Why Theo went after the original lamps, much like the ant and the rubber tree plant in the old song, I can't say. Looking back, I wonder if the corrugated plaster surface looked like a scratching post. But Theo seemed more involved in shoving than scratching. Maybe he had a sense of feline feng shui (should that be fang shui?) Or perhaps he was just a reincarnated interior decorator. He certainly did a job on the floral slip covers for the couch and chair.

My brother, by the way, has his own cat war story. His daughter's kitty, Lily, recently decided to earn her keep by dispatching a mouse down in the basement. She then brought her trophy up to the living room, depositing in in front of Frank and his wife Nancy. Whether the mouse was stunned, had fainted, or was just playing dead, the moment it was out of Lily's mouth, it dove for the couch.

That's what I love about cats, companionship, purring. . .and always something going on.

About HISS AND TELL

In this Sunny & Shadow Mystery from the New York Times bestselling author of LAST LICKS, a fat-cat wedding is making waves in Kittery Harbor, Maine.

Political heiress Priscilla Kingsbury is about to marry Carson de Kruk, son of business mogul Augustus de Kruk, at the Kingsburys’ waterfront compound. For reporter Sunny Coolidge, an assignment from the Harbor Courier to cover the event is like catnip.

But when Sunny photographs men pulling the body of a dead woman out of the water, the Kingsburys’ private security isn’t happy. They claim the woman’s death was an accident, but the story seems fishy. Now, with a little help from her police officer boyfriend and her cunning cat Shadow, Sunny is determined to get the scoop on a killer.