Gentle readers and feeders, today we have the privilege of intermewing a library cat who is also the featured protagonist in his own mystery series.

Welcome! Pull up a cushion and introduce yourself and your author.

My name is Sneaky, and my author is Debbie De Louise.


Great to meet you, Sneaky. What books have you appeared in and how would you classify them?

I’m a cozy mystery cat, and I appear in the Cobble Cove mystery series. The series, so far, consists of three books in the following order: A Stone’s Throw (where I am introduced); Between a Rock and a Hard Place, and Written in Stone (my latest where I am featured on the cover).



Mrrrr-wow! That is one fine feline cover on the last book. Congrats on not only being a cat who is chronicled but a cover cat as well! Did your author use one of her own cats as inspurration for your character ?

Written In Stone-001cover

I am a Siamese and am loosely based on my author’s cat, Oliver, who is also Siamese. He is turning 17, so I am quite a few cat years younger. I am about 3 in the series.

How about treating us to a scene where you particularly shine?


This is from my first book, A Stone’s Throw, where I lead my human co-star, Alicia, to a clue in the library’s storage room:


After Alicia unpacked her things, heated up Sheila’s stew that turned out to be quite tasty, and changed into pajamas, she lay in bed with a book, but she couldn’t concentrate on her reading. She turned off the light and tried to sleep, but the heavy rain against the window kept her up, as did the loud purring of Sneaky Cat, who snuggled against her, happy to have company again. She thought about Tina, the girl who’d stayed here last. From what Alicia knew of her, Tina was a young library school graduate who’d been hired by Sheila as quickly as Alicia had. She’d lived over the library in this space, as well, taken care of Sneaky, and left after two years to care for her sick mother in Florida.


Sneaky dug his paws into the quilt at her back. It had been a long time since she’d had a cat, but she recalled the kneading sensation both male and female cats practiced to comfort themselves. Maybe it would comfort her too. Had she done the right thing by returning to Cobble Cove? Would she be bored in this small town with only a hand full of people patronizing the library each day? Sheila had mentioned the large number of homebound patrons, the seniors of the town, who needed books delivered. She might enjoy that. She liked reader’s advisory work, selecting books that would interest people. Sometimes it was a challenge, but she always learned through the experience and even found new authors and books for herself.


After a few hours of restlessness, Sneaky finally got sick of her tossing and left the room. She felt strangely deserted. She decided it might be better to get up and do something than spend unproductive time in bed. She turned on the light and went out into the hall. All was quiet from downstairs except the continuous downpour. She didn’t plan to go into the library, but she considered checking some of the unprocessed books Sheila had mentioned Mac was working on in the storage room. Perhaps she’d find something more interesting than her current reading that could help her fall asleep.

When she entered the storage room, she didn’t see Sneaky, although she thought he might’ve headed there to use his litter box. Cats can be quiet and liked to sleep in the strangest spots, so he could be there in some corner. Mac’s jacket was still draped across the chair by the desk. She laughed recalling the story about what Sneaky had once done to it out of spite, so typical of an angered cat. She sat in the chair and perused the stack of books on the desk. A few were from James Patterson’s “Private” series. She didn’t read too many series and had only read a few of Patterson’s standalone titles. As she was about to choose a book from the pile, she heard scratching in the corner. She jumped. Hopefully, that was Sneaky and not a mouse he hadn’t caught, for this place probably attracted them. She walked cautiously to the corner where she’d heard the noise. It wasn’t coming from the litter box under the window but from the opposite side.

Since the one bulb in the room was dim, she could hardly see in the dark recesses of the room. She wished she had a flashlight. As she approached the area where she heard the noise, she saw a bunch of boxes. She was relieved to see Sneaky scratching the side of one, cardboard pieces scattered at his feet.

“Oh, Sneaky,” she said. “You scared me, but you’re only using a box for a scratching post.”

The cat, caught in the act, stopped in mid-scratch and scampered away through his cat flap. Alicia made a note to speak to John about helping her find a real scratching post for Sneaky, but before she left the room, she went over to the boxes. She figured they contained more books, but when she looked inside the one Sneaky had been scratching, she saw a few papers bundled together with rope. Newspapers? They weren’t that thick. She realized as she picked up the first bundle, they were a stack of letters. She felt uneasy snooping through them and was about to toss them next to the other two stacks in the box when she caught the name on the top envelope, Miss Carol Parsons. Her heart thudded in tempo with the rain. Were these the letters Mac wrote to Peter’s mother all those years ago? If so, how had Mac gotten them back? 

Excellent! Looks like your human sleuth is really going to need your help to solve this. What do you like most about your role in these books?

I like the fact that I am featured in each book. I would love more exciting roles, but Debbie is starting to give me more active scenes. I also enjoy helping the Cobble Cove peeps find clues to the mysteries. Detecting is great fun, and I am able to use my wonderful cat senses and keen observational techniques to help my human co-stars solve crimes.

So you’re not the kind of cat-sleuth who talks directly to the humans he’s helping?

I am quiet except for the usual cat sounds – meows, purrs, hisses. As a fellow cat character, I am sure you are familiar with the feline noises.

If you could converse with them, what would you tell your human co-detectives?

I would tell my human assistants, Alicia, John, and Gilly in my latest mystery, that they should pay more attention to me and the other pets in their stories because we have senses way acuter than they do and can sniff, observe, and hear stuff that they may not be aware of. Also, they need to be more careful. Even though our books are cozies, there have been murders in them. I’d hate to see one of my human co-stars get hurt. Fido, my dog co-star, had an incident in our second mystery, but he pulled through fine. We pets are quite resilient, but humans are fragile creatures.

Any words of wisdom for your fellow litterary cats?

Don’t shed the small stuff. Don’t let other pet characters overshadow you especially dogs. I have my canine co-star, Fido, firmly in paw about that.

What are you up to next? Have you a new case to tell us about?

Nothing new at the moment, but I know Debbie is planning to start a possible fourth book in our series in the fall.

Then we’ll definitely need to stay in touch! How can we find out what you’re up to online?

I don’t have a catFace page or tweeting bird account, but I do have a blog where I interview other pet characters. It was my pleasure to interview you on it. It’s located at I also show cute cat videos on Friday. Debbie’s social media links are as follows:






Amazon Author Page:

Website/Blog/Newsletter Sign-Up:



Spam and the Sasquatch story–just the cat, ma’am

I’ve already talked about the wonderful graphic novel Karen Gillmore made from my adventures with Bigfoot, but graphic novels cost lots to print so there are only a few copies and so far they are mostly available from one or the other of us at personal appearances, Comic Cons or sf/f cons or signings.
With Karen’s permission and a cool cover taken from the illustrations in the graphic novel, I’m offering the story by itself online for those who want to read it. The graphic novel is brilliant. but the story alone is fun too!
To buy on Amazon: spamandsasquatch



Tour Bus of Doom or Spam and the Zombie Apocalyps-o


Tour Bus of Doom is the story of how zombies invaded Port Deception, the nom de litter I made up for my real hometown.

I was just enjoying a quiet lick of ice cream at one of my favorite hangouts, Elevated Ice Cream, when the tour bus full of zombies drove up with zombies demanding brain-flavored ice cream, playing drums and lurching down the main drag.

They were not the kind of zombies who are shown these days lurching around trying to eat brains. These are the Caribbean type of cursed zombies who have to do their masters’ bidding. In other words, they could learn a lot from cats.

If all started when a bunch of our neighbors went to Haiti to help out with the post-earthquake work and got in trouble with a zombie-master. He zombified some of them and when they came back, they were so messed up that my little sister Marigold (you met her as the kitten in Father Christmas) actually was afraid of her own family!

It took me and all of my friends to try to protect the town from the invasion and reunite Marigold’s family with their loving feline.

It’s quite a tail!


to buy on Amazon: Also available at other online book sellers and in paperback.

Spam Vs the Vampire

Looking back over my blog, I see that I haven’t told you about the first book of my adventures: SPAM VS THE VAMPIRE. This is what the super comix would call my “origin story” all about how I was born in the shell of an old MacIntosh computer (one of the retro ones in Blueberry, to match our eyes when my littermates and I were kittens) to our mother, a recently adopted stray our guardian, Darcy, named Board.

Darcy is a graphic designer and at the time we were born, almost all of her best friends were cats because all together, she had 15 of us, so didn’t have that much time for humans. That made her lonely enough to fall in with eeevil companions on the internet, including a suave looking vampire she thought was a fanpire, someone who liked to pretend to be a vamp. Actually, turns out he was the real thing.

He had watched too many movies about how vampires sparkle on the Olympic Peninsula, where I live, so he moved down from Montreal. Long story short, he kidnapped Darcy, leaving all of us cats with no food, water, or litter box changer. This would not do and I, although I was only a kitten who had never been outdoors before, escaped the house and set out to find her. I didn’t really know what to do but a retired police dog named Officer Bubba lives next door, so I asked him for clues. These led me to the deep dark forest through which runs a path from our house into town.

I almost got eaten by an eagle right away, but talked my way out of it. With so many housemates, I’m a very sociable guy, and we watch a lot of the Critter Channel at my house so I knew a lot of handy stuff about wildlife.

Wildlife such as Renfrew, the raccoon kit I met next. I realized that in order to utilize the most up to date tech to find our Darcy, I would need an assistant. I am, by the way, very computer literate because I’m Darcy’s office cat and help her build websites and navigate the internet a lot, but I lack thumbs. Right away I noticed Renfrew’s paws are a lot like little human hands, which was, you know, hand-y.

Plus he had a clue. He’d found Darcy’s cell phone. So Renfrew was my first assistant.

Sherlock Holmes has his Baker Street irregulars, but none of them run a taxi service as well. A lot of my clues as to the whereabouts of my suspect came from the local deer herds. Since our town butts right up against the Olympic National Park and forest, we have tons of wild animals , none more numerous than the deer, right here in town. They are friendly, cats like them and they like cats, so they were the purrfect allies to help me find Darcy. Since my legs are way shorter than theirs, they also gave me rides so I could cover longer distances in shorter times.

I was introduced to them by the Boat Haven’s otters, who have an unusual and kind of stinky way of telling time.

While I was out detecting, however, the vampire wasn’t sleeping. He actually showed up at our house while I was gone and ran a-foul of my old mentor Rocky, a former feral who (constantly) told me all kinds of horrible stories about what awaited clueless kittens who left their safe homes. One of those things happened to him when he defended our home against Marcel of Montreal.

Do I rescue Darcy? Do raccoons like shiny things? I promise you will not read SPAM VS THE VAMPIRE in vein!


SPAM (the cat)

PS: To buy on Amazon:
It is, however, available at other online retailers in other formats, as well as print on demand paperback.


Spam, the Spooks, and the UPS Bandit: Spam’s second Christmas story

It’s a good thing those WordPress people are paying attention. They reminded me I haven’t sat on the keyboard recently enough to tell mew about the independent publishing of the Christmas story originally written for the Naughty or Nice anthology published in 2015. It was VERY exciting.

Spam, the Spooks, and the UPS Bandit is now available as a solo short story on

Karen Gillmore made it a spooky holiday cover!


Spam, author K.B. Dundee (with typing by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough), Renfrew Raccoon, Maddog the Vampire Law South of the (Canadian) Border, and Mat, my Under-Dumpster Dwelling Bro.

FATHER CHRISTMAS, Spam the Cat’s First Christmas, Conclusion, Dec. 19th, Meowy Catmess!


Well, this gift didn’t keep giving quite long enough but we hope you enjoyed it and everyone has happy holidays! 

“Who asked you to stick around?” Hank asked as they left.

“Nobody,” I said. “But I’m going to anyway.”

“So you can see what they do to me? Like those females?”

“They won’t do it right away,” I said. “They’ll give you your shots and probably trim your mats—they might wait till they put you out to do that though.”

“Put me out? You mean like put me to sleep? Like the long sleep?”

“No. Not kill you. Just help you go to sleep so you don’t feel any pain when they do the snip. It makes your legs not work right for a while and you walk funny, but it’ll be okay. They’re just trying to make you healthy. And really, you don’t need to make any more kittens. You could have stopped with me, as far as I’m concerned.”

“This is so unfair. I am a leader among cats, father of my race, a mighty warrior . . .”

“You’re more a deadbeat dad than anything,” I said, then remembered another part of the seasonal stories I’d been seeing on TV and the internet. “Think of me as the spirit of kittens past. La Toya’s baby is kittens present. And if you keep on doing what you do, before long there will be so many orange kittens and cats, there won’t be any more prey, and wild cats like you will be eating each other to survive. They usually eat the old feeble cats first, I hear.” I was just making that up, but somehow I needed to convince him that changing his ways, however involuntarily, was a good thing—or at least the lesser evil.

“You are awfully damn sure of yourself for a kid,” he said.

“My mother saw to it that we have a safe home with Darcy—my lady who took La Toya. I’ve had a good education. Not all of your kits are going to get that chance.”

“Thank Bast. One of you is enough.”

“Is that so? Then why didn’t you stop at one?”

“Son, my seed spreading is not a character flaw. A tom’s gotta do what a tom’s gotta do.”

“All the more reason to retire, Pop.”

“My clowder won’t respect me anymore.”

“Maybe not, but when they get trapped, you can let them know it’s not the end of the line for them. Like I’m trying to do with you.”

“Why? I thought you hated me.” He had stopped snarling now, and his ears had gone from laid back to kind of flat out to the sides of his head, sad-looking really. His voice was a little whiny, but I figured that was understandable, under the circumstances.

“No, Pop. I don’t even know you, really. But maybe when you get back to the clowder again, we can help each other out sometimes.”

“Help how?”

I think I actually put him to sleep telling him about me and Darcy and the vampire, Renfrew, Maddog, the deer and everything. I at least shut up the lady cats, who stopped bawling at him to listen to my story. Eventually I put me to sleep too. But we awoke once, and my old man had put his nose up to mine. He was purring, finally. “You okay, Dad?” I asked him.

He ignored my question, saying, “You ever caught a fish with your paw, Junior? When this is over, come down to the dock, and I’ll show you.”

“It’s a deal,” I said.

I stayed with him till he met Dr. Ginny later that afternoon. Always the ladies’ man, he took a shine to her. “You go home and make sure your little sister’s okay, Spam,” the old man said.

When Ginny put him in her car to go to the clinic for his snip, she gave me a lift home. I was just in time to play with the boxes and the crinkled balls of wrapping paper with my brothers, until I finally fell asleep again in one of the boxes.

Father Christmas family

Meowy Catmess from Spam, Marigold, La Toya, and Hank as well as Elizabeth Ann Scarborough and K.B. Dundee.


FATHER CHRISTMAS, Spam the Cat’s First Christmas, 6th Installment, 18 Dec. 2014


Tomorrow will conclude the serialization of Father Christmas © by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough and K.B. Dundee, with illustrations by Karen Gillmore. We hope you’re enjoying the story and will share the links so your friends can too! The digital book or a print copy may be purchased from any of the usual online outlets, and all proceeds support the Humane Society of Jefferson Co, WA. 

As they left, I skinned out the door with them and hopped into Deputy Daryl’s car and onto Darcy’s lap. Deputy Daryl had been present during my final showdown with the vampire when I had to save Darcy, so he didn’t question my motives any more than Darcy did. I got some extra petting on the way. The car warmed up before we reached the end of the block.

The lady from the house with the manger was waiting for us, the big cage set beside her, and a smaller carrier on the other side. Both cage and carrier had colorful fleece blankets thrown over them so the cats could have some privacy. Daryl let us in the shelter. The minute we were inside La Toya began crying, and the old man’s cage rocked furiously as he scratched, tore and pounded at the heavy wire. While the people were talking, I stuck my nose under the blanket of La Toya’s carrier. She and the kitten were inside, the kitten nursing, but she was panting heavily, stressed. “Oh, Spam, what’s going to happen to us? Will they take my kitten? Will we be killed? Who are these humans and why did they take us?” Her cries were growing shriller and shriller.

“La Toya, shush. All this yelling isn’t good for the baby. You’re going to scare her too. Don’t worry. My human lady knows the man here, and I’ve found out a little more about this place. They only want us cats to be looked after, make sure we get food and water and don’t get sick or anything. Lots of times cats who come here find new humans to live with. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Who needs them?” she said. “Hank said I’m better off living wild and free with his clowder.”

“Yeah, well, Hank told you a lot of things before, didn’t he?” I asked, guessing that Hank must be the name my old man used.

“I’m so afraid,” she said with a small piteous mew and a shiver.

Darcy knelt down, removing the blanket and petting me as she checked out La Toya and her baby. “Spammy, that kitten is going to look like you and your brothers when it’s a little older,” she said. I wished I could tell her who else the kitten would look like too. “Would it be okay with you if we take these two home with us so I can make sure the kitten gets what she needs? They’re a little fragile to stay here with the rest of the cats all night, especially by themselves. I’d have to put them in the office.”

I purred. Normally the office was off limits to the other cats, being my territory, but the truth was, now that I had my own entrance, I wasn’t in there as much as I used to be.

I turned back to La Toya, “Darcy—that’s my lady—wants to take you home. You’ll be okay. There are lots of other cats there.”

“What if they hate me? What if they try to kill my baby? I’ve heard that happens sometimes!”

“I’ll be there, and my mother too. We’ll see to it that you’re treated right. They’re a good bunch.”

“LET MEYOWWWWT!!!” The old man—Hank—hollered at the top of his lungs, rocking the cage back and forth.

I poked my nose under his blanket, and almost got it sliced as he tried to bend the wire like Superman. “Cut it out,” I said. “You’re scaring the baby.”

He growled and snarled like a wildcat, but I was stern—it was easy to be with him inside the cage and me out. “I mean it, Hank. If you’ll shut up for a minute somebody will put you in a bigger cage and . . .”

“I don’t belong in a cage!” he roared. “I have to be free! The minute they open this I am out of here.”

He wasn’t, of course. It might have been harder if the other cats hadn’t chimed in. “Will you look there, Myrtle? It’s Prince Charming himself!” One of the lady cats sneered.

“Oh yeah. Hey, handsome, do you ever see any of my kittens anymore? You sure haven’t been back to see how we were!”

“Yeah, I got kicked out of my house because you knocked me up,” another one complained.

“They dumped me in a parking lot to die,” said another one. “It’s all your fault.”

“Not my fault,” he cried back, this time on the defensive. “It’s those humans! You should never have trusted them.”

“Humans don’t give you kittens, Slick. Tomcats give you kittens. Well, I hear they fix that in here.”

What?” he jumped—and landed in the new cage, where Daryl, Darcy and Amanda meant for him to go. The capture cage was decorated like a Christmas tree with clumps of his matted fur and streaks of blood.

“You’re getting snipped, Stud,” Myrtle, a calico with one red eye, told him, lashing her tail.

“Snipped?” he asked.

“Don’t let them scare you, Hank,” I told him, suddenly a little sorry for the old man in the midst of all of these vengeful queens. “It doesn’t amount to much. All the males at my house have had it done, and it doesn’t really make any difference. You just can’t make kittens anymore.”

“How do you know my name?” he demanded suspiciously. “Wait—wait, I know you. You said you were my kid. I met you down at Sea-J’s, trying to move in on the clowder’s fish franchise. Is this your twisted idea of revenge?”

“No,” I said.

“Spam, we’re going now. Are you coming?”

I looked back at Darcy, who had the carrier with La Toya and the kitten in her hand. La Toya wasn’t crying now. In fact, I think she was laughing—probably at Hank’s predicament. But terror rolled off him like an incoming tide, and the females were not making it easier, of course. They were imagining what his surgery would be like in gory detail while he wailed and railed against them.

When I trotted back to Darcy and rubbed her legs he squatted in a corner bawling.

“I gotta get out of here,” Daryl said. “Poor old guy.”

I jumped up on the second tier of cages, where the old man cowered, and sat on top of his cell, which wasn’t very comfortable, since it wasn’t a solid surface. Darcy took off her sweater and shoved it on top of the cage for me to lie on. “Spam wants to stay with him.” She caressed my head and ears with her hand. “We’ll be back for you in the morning, sweetie.”