The Cat Who Went Up the Creek
Chapter One
It was Skeeter Week in Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere. Armies of young enthusiastic mosquitoes rose from
woodland bogs and deployed about the county, harassing tourists. Permanent residents were never bothered. And, after a
while, even newcomers developed an immunity, attributed to minerals in the drinking water and in the soil that grew
such flavorful potatoes. As for the summer people, they bought quantities of insect repellent and went on praising the
perfect weather, the wonderful fishing, and the ravishing natural beauty of Moose County.
One morning in mid-June a columnist for the Moose County Something was working against deadline, writing his
annual thousand-word salute to Skeeter Week. With tongue in cheek he reported readers' exaggerated claims: A farmer in
Wildcat had trained a corps of skeeters to buzz him awake every morning in time for milking. A music teacher in Pickax
City had a pet skeeter that buzzed Mendelssohn's "Spinning Song."
He was no backwoods journalist. He was James Mackintosh Qwilleran, former crime writer for major newspapers Down Below,
as the loca ... read full excerpt from: The Cat Who Went Up the Creek ebook
