Cat Cops

[cat-cops-blog]

    “Snowball’s a good cop, man. There’s no way he's dirty.” said Mittens. 

    “How else do you explain it? That he was at the warehouse Thursday night. I mean there were pictures and those scratch marks on the furniture. Not to mention he knew about the murder before it even went out on the wire.” said Muffin.

    “That’s all you’ve got? There has to be an explanation. Ever since I started here, Snowball's had my back.” Mitten started to yell, his face burned as he felt himself losing his cool.

     “Look, I’m telling you this now as a courtesy cause i’m going to talk to the chief about this no matter what and shit is going to hit the fan. I just want you to have time to cover your ass,” stated Cupcake as she turned and walked down the hall.

Illustration by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    Buttercup could feel the wave of nausea begin to overcome him as soon as he looked at the body laying there in the back of the alley. He quickly scampered back out to the street and vomited his lunch of fancy feast into a nearby trashcan. Buttercup had seen corpses before, but nothing compared to this, the brutality of it. The familiar red and blue lights reflected off the glass of a storefront and the rain had left a fresh smell in the air. An aura of the mundane hung about the street, concealing the horror just beyond. Shaking and breathing heavily, he tried to calm himself, to steel his nerves before returning to that mutilated body slowly growing colder on the damp concrete.

Illustrated by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    “You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself, detective,” Boots said to himself as he struggled to lift his head off the pillow. Bleary-eyed, he dragged his sore body out of bed, headache pounding away between his temples. He tried to piece together the events of last night. They lost the case, jury didn’t convict, headed out alone to Mulligan’s, whiskey, whiskey, some catnip, more whiskey, and then what? A fight? Things were murky by this point in his memory. Boots rubbed his bruised right side and remembered getting hit by someone. Or was it falling into something? How did he get home? As he put on his suit, the outlines of a cab ride formed in his mind. “Damn, must have left my car at the bar,” Boots grumbled as he shoved his wallet, keys, and badge in his pocket and hurried out the door.

Illustrated by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    Cupcake could hear the people’s yells from across the street, but their words seemed to be only noise. He ran as fast as he could, his lungs burned, the scene around around him turned into a blur. The chase continued as the perp took a quick right down the alley. Cupcake followed. A dead end. The perp spun on his heels and turned to face Cupcake, who halted in spot. He was panting as he placed his sweaty paws on the hilt of his gun. The perp began to reach towards his pocket. Cupcake remembered only the force of the recoil. And then he was standing over the body, heart still racing, watching the pool of blood coagulate.

Illustrated by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    “Goddammit, you’re just like all the rest of those bottom feeders,” yelled Cupcake as she slammed her glass down on the bar. “I agreed to talk to you because I thought you wanted to shed some light on this crime. But you’re just another shit-eating piece of scum reporter whose looking for more sensationalist crap. Well, you’re gonna have to find another source. I’m done.”

    And with that Cupcake got up, pounced down off the chair, and stormed out of the building heading towards her patrol car.

Illustrated by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    Sgt. Whiskers sighed as he read the file on his desk. Another folder with another body. It was routine by this point, but today Whiskers couldn’t keep reading. The description of the crime scene blurred into a whirl with the hundreds of others he had read every day for the better part of the past two decades: Multiple stab wounds, residue found under fingernails, toxicology report found traces of catnip in the system, no sign of forced entry, car window broken from the outside, estimated time of death between three and five am, neighbor reported hearing two gunshots, no DNA match on the hairball samples found on victim’s jacket…“Is this why I got into police work?” thought Whiskers, “So I could sit behind a desk all day and read about another one who got away? Another case that’s going to go unsolved, another day wasted.” Whisker tossed the file down and went over to the window sill, laying down in a sunbeam that cracked through the clouds, as he stared wistfully at the grey city skyline.

Illustrated by Lauren Leilani Iona

[cat-cops-blog]

    Mittens’ blood ran cold as he surveyed the scene. The room he had been in only hours before felt different now. The air in it was heavier and colder. He cursed himself, he hadn’t been able to save her. Now it was too late and it was his fault. He had promised her. He promised that he would look after her, that he would be there to protect her, and he had failed. 

    “You alright there, Mittens?” asked his partner, breaking the prolonged silence. 

    “She told me. She told me he was dangerous. I said everything would be fine, that I would be there for her.” Officer Mittens trailed off as he bent over to close her eyes with his paw.

Illustration by Lauren Leilani Iona