Right after dinner I told everybody I needed to walk the dog. My mother looked at me and quickly reminded me that we do not own a dog. Rule number 83 of a good snoop says “keep hands up, ears open and explanations ready.” “Well mother” I firmly said looking straight into her eyebrows “I’m preparing so when we do have a dog, please excuse me it’s almost night time and if I’m not back before then you’ll ground me again.” She looked at me with her eyes saying “well played, now go play before you’re grounded.”

The hard part seemed to pass, but the dangerous part sits watching TV. I crept around the corner pretending to look for my contacts in the grass and on the floor, following rule number 23 “never look suspicious, only look suspiciously.”  I reached the side wall of my adversary, covered in dirt, mud, grass stains, and I think gum. The front door stood there taunting me, it told me to run in and shout with authority, but I knew better, plus the guard cat slept on the porch.

Mr. Arrington’s right hand man, Cookie guarded the house ferociously. A dog seems like a better choice to guard a house, but few people understand the importance of a guard cat. The rarity of guard cats make them a special case to handle. Guard dogs are easy. Dogs can be bought, a nice steak, pat on the head, tummy rub and the dog thinks it has a new best friend. Guard cats on the other hand are loyal until the last drop of blood, not even mice make it passed a guard cat. After carefully observing the situation there seemed no trace of Cookie, making the coast clear and the path to the back yard crumb-less.