The Sparky Spitfire Mysteries

Oh. Hello.  I did not see you there.  Most Humans can not sneak up on me like that.  How very clever of you.  Well done.

I suppose you are here, stalking me like this, to learn more about my many adventures.  My exciting life as a famous cat detective.  I don’t actually have time for that now, but if you would scratch my head for me…behind my ears, right there. No. Lower. Ah. That’s it.

Okay, maybe I have time, but only to tell you about one mystery. Because there are so many mysteries out there, I have a hard time remembering them all.  Like, the Hidden Bag of Dry Food, the Ugly Kitten Mystery, and the fascinating secret of how to get into (and back out of) the car engine. And then there’s the mystery at the top of the tree.  There are, in fact, so many mysteries at the top of so many trees that some cats wonder why I bother. They ask: why get wet or dirty or burrs in your tail, when you can just curl up on a cushion and snooze your life away?

Nuts, I say.  I don’t need another nap.  I can take a bath when I get home.

But if I never get out, I’ll never know.  If I don’t get out to investigate all the the scurrying shadows or squeeze into all the tiny holes, I’ll never figure it out.  And that would be awful.  That would be a big, empty, pointless kind of awful, like a yawn that never ends, or like pouncing on the wind.  If I stay home, I may never find my sister, and she’s the biggest, most important mystery of them all.

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