The Creepy Cat Detective Agency - Part II
A curious case of moral turpitude.. continues.
Dear Kula Diaries,
This is part two of a multi-part story that I’ve been writing. I’ve decided that it is best shared in portions, so I will be releasing it in segments. If you haven’t read Part One, I’d recommend starting there… or this will make very little sense to you. The genre of writing that I’m exploring in this creative project is something I’m calling friction - realistic fiction. There are many parts of this story that are based on truth, but also many parts that are based on my imagination. I’ve tried to take a challenging (real) situation… and turn it into something that feels like it has a bit of meaning. Stories have always been the way that I’ve been able to make sense of things that don’t seem to make sense. It has been healing, enjoyable and downright fun to write this story, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do.
Ok… let’s get back to the story.
The Creepy Cat Detective Agency - Part II
When I was 20 years old, I spent the night in a hotel room in London with a strange man I had just met. It’s not what you think. I still remember calling my parents from the Gatwick airport to update them on my journey home. “This is going to sound really bad,” I had preemptively stated, before I told them them the story of how my one day layover in London had transpired. I had travelled to Greece on a summer scholarship to study Asklepion temples. I was a pre-med Latin student, and I had proposed a research project that would combine both of my interests: medicine and ancient history. I spent nearly 2 weeks in Greece travelling to different temple sites around the country. My original plan was to stay in Greece for a week longer than my family to meet with a friend who was also traveling in Europe… but, at the last minute, my friend got sick and couldn’t make the trip. I didn’t want to stay in Greece alone, so I tried to change my flight to head home with my family, but there was no space available. Ultimately, I ended up on another flight back to Pennsylvania… but I had to depart 12 hours later than my family… and spend one night in London.
Keep in mind…this was in 2001, in the days before smart phones and AirBNBs. When I got to London, I didn’t have a plan… I was just going to try and figure out where to stay. As I walked out of the airport, I saw a booth that supposedly made hotel reservations. I got in line, and I was joined by a sharply dressed looking man who struck up a casual conversation with me. He was also just returning to the US from a trip to Greece. We walked up to the booth together and I told the man at the booth that I was looking for an inexpensive place to stay. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “We only deal with 4 and 5-star hotels.” He looked at the sharply dressed man next to me, “But if you two are together… you could share a room and it would be a lot cheaper.” I had met this man approximately 1 minute prior, and I didn’t even know his name. And yet, despite anything that I had ever been told or taught about making ‘good’ decisions… somehow, I knew that this strange situation was going to work out alright. I remember looking at the man and laughing together at the silliness of the situation. As it turned out, his name was James and he was an entrepreneur from Arizona. He booked a penthouse suite at the Grange Hotel in downtown London… took me out to a club called Tiger Tiger for dinner and dancing… and then we retreated back to our gigantic, shared hotel room for the evening… and slept in separate King Sized Beds. He was, without a doubt, one of the kindest… most respectful… genuine humans that I’ve ever encountered in my life. I don’t know how I knew that he would be that way… suffice it to say, I just knew.
That moment of my life had been the only time that I had ever unequivocally trusted somebody in a situation where the rest of the world would have unanimously told me that I should not trust somebody… until now. When I became the founder of a successful Nut Butter Company, I never imagined that one day, I’d be seeking the assistance of a Creepy Cat, who was inexplicably dressed in Victorian pajamas. And yet, here I was — sitting in my office, looking directly into the emotionless eyes of a thing that I can only describe as… a creature. A few hours earlier, in a moment of desperation, I had called The Creepy Cat Detective Agency when their business card mysteriously tumbled from underneath my desk drawer. In the preceding days, I had learned that the HR Investigator that I had hired to investigate a theft in my company was also committing theft and fraud… against me. He had lied to me and stolen money… and I didn’t know what to do, or how to get my money back. In the midst of all of it… the mysterious business card appeared. I’ve always considered myself, ‘realistic woo’ — which means that I’m definitely open to the ‘woo’, but I’m not so far out there that people are concerned for me. However, I couldn’t deny that the sudden appearance of this business card felt like… a sign.
The Creepy Cat had arrived within the hour, and now we sat in my office… their beady little eyes staring off into the distance. Were they judging me? I couldn’t tell. “I’m not sure where I should begin,” I offered. The Creepy Cat spoke without moving its mouth… a strange ventriloquist act… except that the words almost seemed to be echoing in my own mind when they spoke, “There is no need to repeat the story to me. I know what happened, and I am certain that I will help you discover what you are looking for.” I looked at a small list on my desk that I had written down before the Creepy Cat arrived:
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I said as I shook my head in dismay, “I feel so stupid… and embarrassed. I was trying to do the right thing, and I don’t know how I fell for that scam. I’m angry and disappointed and…”
“I understand,” the Creepy Cat said in my head, “And it’s OK and normal that you feel that way… and I’m confident I can help you. But we need to start at the beginning… and I’m not talking about the day you discovered the peanut butter theft. I’m talking about before that… long before that.”
The Creepy Cat moved across the floor like a ghost — their long, drapey pajama gown giving the impression that they were hovering. That cat walked to my side and I felt a strange sense of calm and presence. “Please touch the mouse,” they said to me… indicating the small toy mouse that they were holding in their right paw. I had a feeling that this was not going to be a normal investigation. As I hesitantly reached my hand out for the small toy mouse… I closed my eyes instinctively and winced a bit, even thought I felt no pain. I knew… I just knew… that this investigation might take me to a few places that I didn’t really want to go.
As soon as I touched the mouse, I felt a cool breeze… a whooshing sensation… and then… nothing. A strangely familiar metallic smell rushed into my nostrils, and without opening my eyes, I knew where I was: the girl’s bathroom at Sacred Heart School. I could hear a few kids laughing in the corner.. the words, southern dork hit my ears like I had heard them yesterday. “She probably pees standing up,” one girl said to a cluster of students who had very obviously hemmed their skirts above the required knee-length uniform standard. As much as it pained me, I had to laugh at the irony — I had just bought a new-fangled piece of hiking gear called a Kula Cloth to use with my p-Style, which was indeed… a special funnel so that I could pee while standing up on the trail. The universe did have a funny sense of humor.
“Why are we here?” I whispered to the Creepy Cat, “I know that I was bullied… but I don’t see why reliving this is going to help me at all.” I watched, in awe, as a 10 year old version of me emerged from the bathroom stall. My uniform looked oversized and I had fastened my red tie in the wrong configuration. I could never quite decide if the ends of those dreadful women’s uniform ties were supposed to point apart from each other or towards each other. My hair was cut into a dramatic bowl - short on top, and shaved on the bottom. My eyes were puffy from crying, and I watched as my younger self peered into the mirror and splashed some water on her face. “What does she need?”, the Creepy Cat asked silently.
I looked at the ten year old version of me, “She just wants to fit in. She just wants to be able to be herself. I had so many ideas and stories back then. I used to write for hours and hours… I’d try to tell the stories during class, but people made fun of my short hair and my accent.” I had moved to Pennsylvania from North Carolina, and my twangy southern drawl had come with me. Apparently, that was not acceptable, according to the other kids at my school. The short hair? Well, that was just the icing on the cake. The first time that I had received a good grade on a paper… that had been the nail in the proverbial coffin. “What happened?”, asked the Cat. “I gave up,” I recalled, “By the 7th grade, I had mostly stopped doing my school work… I somehow managed to turn in enough work that it looked like I knew what I was doing. In the evenings, I’d come home and cry. Eventually, my parents decided to homeschool me.”
The Creepy Cat didn’t shake it’s head, but I got the feeling that if it hadn’t been staring off into space, it would have, “Did anybody at the school stand up for you?”. I thought for a little bit, “No, not that I can recall. I just remember feeling very alone. I felt like most of my ideas were stupid, and so I kept them to myself. I had a typewriter in my room as a kid, and when I wasn’t at school, I poured myself into writing stories. It seemed like the stories were a way that I could create a place that felt a lot better. Stories gave me a sense of control that I didn’t have in school.”
“What would you like to tell her now?”, the cat asked.
I walked over to tiny little me and knelt down. She was standing at the sink, just staring into the mirror — small tears oozing down her cheeks. Her eyes were bright turquoise and red from crying. “I’m not sure if you can hear me,” I started awkwardly, “But everything is going to work out. These kids are mean to you — but it’s going to turn you into a compassionate, kind soul. Someday you are going to have the chance to share that compassion with a lot of people… and you’ll look back on these moments and you won’t feel sad about them anymore. But for now, it’s OK to feel sad. And keep writing… your stories aren’t stupid or dumb… your creativity and your imagination is what will bring the most magical experiences into your life. You can be, do, have or create anything that you can imagine. There might be points in your life when people will tell you otherwise — but, please — don’t believe them. Trust your heart and keep going. Oh, and there’s going to be this guy that you meet in college who seems like bad news… just don’t date him.”
The Creepy Cat smirked without smirking, “Nice try”.
I watched as little Anastasia wiped her final tear and went back to her classroom. I could smell dough and salt — I knew it was snack time, which meant that she’d be spending 25 cents for a warm soft pretzel. The cat turned to me and held out the mouse. I reached over… and whoosh.
A new smell hit my nose… and I scrunched my face as I regretted my inhale. I recognized the stench instantly, “The sympathy odor,” I whispered. I opened my eyes and saw a very small boy sitting alone against a brick wall during what appeared to be recess. Out of nowhere, one of those big red bouncy balls came careening across the lot and smacked him — hard — in the head. “Hagis is a L-O-S-E-R!”, I heard being chanted by a group of kids who were pretending to be cheerleaders. I could see the veins bulging on the side of his neck and I watched his fists clench with anger as he tried to shake off the hit from the ball. He stood up from his spot against the wall, which incited even more taunting from the group, “Are you going to go C-R-Y?”, they shouted relentlessly. I felt helpless as I watched the scene unfold. I turned toward the Cat, who was emotionless as always, “Aren’t we going to do something? We can’t let them treat him like that! I don’t care if he grows up to be a total scammer… he’s just a kid now. It’s not fair.”
The Cat nodded and blinked and, very suddenly, we were not at the school anymore. We were in a house. The sympathy odor was overwhelming here too — I looked around and saw beer cans and trash lying on the ground. I watched in horror as little Hagis walked in the front door, tripping over a can and kicking it in frustration as he entered. A gurgling noise came from an ugly, plaid recliner that was pointing at the TV, “Clean yer room,” an angry, drunk man’s voice yelled from the recliner. A woman walked in… saw Hagis, who appeared to be in shambles… and shook her head, “I don’t have time for this… go to your room.” From my seemingly invisible and silent corner of the room, I screamed, “He’s just a kid! Maybe check in on him and see how he’s doing?” I watched as Hagis slowly walked back to his bedroom and closed the door. I stood outside the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard a stifled sob.
Somewhere, deep within my heart, I felt something that I had not expected. As much as I despised the man that this child would become… and as much as I felt angry that he had betrayed me and stolen my money… I also felt something new. I felt compassion. I, too, knew the pain of hiding alone to cry… but, unlike Hagis, I had been raised by a loving family. When I thought back to my childhood, even though the memories of being bullied were painful… most of my life was filled with adventure, playing outside, and having fun being a kid. I had not been left to fend for myself. My music, writing and love of the outdoors had been nurtured… I had been given the tools to find my way, amidst the inevitable chaos of life. Ultimately, the bullying I experienced had been transformed into something important — it had become the reason that I wanted to devote my life to serving others. I was beginning to see that bullying without a space for it to be transmuted into an awakening… would have the ability to rot away the remembrance of love that is meant to keep us all together.
My heart hurt for little Hagis, but I wasn’t ready to give up the case just yet, “Ok, I get it. He had a rough childhood… a lot of people do. But that still doesn’t mean that I’m just supposed to let him get away with a crime, does it? There are a lot of people out there who had a rough time as a child… that isn’t a permission slip to commit fraud, is it?” The Cat didn’t answer me. I struggled to grasp what the Cat was trying to show me. We had both been bullied — I had turned my bullying into a force for good… and Hagis had turned his experience into an excuse for scamming people and being deceptive. Still, it didn’t seem to justify his behavior. It didn’t deposit my money back in my account. I shook my head, “I don’t get it,” I said, “He’s still out there scamming people… and that’s just not right.”
The Cat nodded, and I thought I detected a tiny hint of a grin, although I couldn’t be sure. “What type of weird Detective Agency is this? I feel like I’m stuck in some insane version of The Christmas Story… except I’m not Scrooge. I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe you should be dragging Hagis around instead of me… did you ever think of that?” I was wondering if the mysterious business card had been dropped off at the wrong office. Clearly, I was not the one who needed help. Afterall, I had turned my difficult childhood experiences into a positive thing… hadn’t I?
The Cat didn’t say anything, but I got the distinct feeling that we weren’t done yet. Whatever this was… I was pretty sure that I didn’t have a choice but to continue. “Just get me my money back,” I said to the Cat. The Cat looked off into the distance and finally spoke, much to my surprise, in a rhyme:
You think this is about money You think that you've been wronged But maybe it's more about Something that doesn't belong The pain that you feel The anger you hold Is hurting your heart At least I've been told But look deep within Who holds it in place? Who gives it a name? Who grants it the space? You think this is about one thing But maybe it's about another I'm simply here to help You try and discover A thing you already know A truth deep within When you let go of the story Your life will begin.
“First off,” I said, “I don’t know how you came up with that poem on the spot… but it was actually really good. And secondly, I’d like to point out that I am still here. I want to keep going. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the end of all of this… but I feel like it’s important. I feel really lost and I know that I need help figuring this out. I can’t shake this feeling that I’m…”, I hesitated, “… missing something. I don’t even know if I should keep going with Tiny Spoon Nut Butter.” I thought back to a decision that I had made a few years prior… after the incident with the aggressive swan and the scalding sauerkraut on the golf course, I had reached out to a Life Coach for help. At the time, I kept that decision a secret from almost everybody. As I paid $800 for coaching sessions, I could almost hear my dad’s voice saying, “Wait… you need a coach for… life?” And now, less than half a decade later… just when I was starting to think that I had it all ‘figured out’… I was seeking the expertise of an expressionless Cat in Victorian Pajamas.
“We have work to do,” the Cat said in my mind. I looked around at Hagis’ house one last time. I could still hear him crying in his bedroom, and the man and the woman in the living room had started to argue loudly.
“Yes,” I said, “I suppose we do.” I reached for the fuzzy mouse toy and closed my eyes.
To be continued.
Friends, thank you so much for being here and for reading this story! The journey of the Creepy Cat will continue in the upcoming weeks. For those of you who are new to the Creepy Cat… let me explain … the Creepy Cat is the official/unofficial mascot of my gear company, Kula Cloth. The Creepy Cat started as a silly meme that we posted on Instagram… and very quickly took on a life of its own. Over time, the Creepy Cat has become a symbol (for me) of remembering to follow my heart… even when it doesn’t seem to make much sense... and especially when it seems really silly. We each have an infinite spring of creativity flowing from within our own hearts, and I hope that you take the time this week to nurture that creativity — in whatever way feels good to you. Put down your phone and run around outside like a kid again… do something that seems ridiculous… dance to your favorite song… bake a new recipe and eat the dough… do one little thing to nurture that spark within you. Your younger self — who is still very much a part of who you are right now — will thank you.
Sending you all so much love — have a beautiful week!
P.S. You can submit a question, comment… or anything else anonymously using the Kula Diaries Vault. I love reading your questions and comments, so thank you for taking the time to share them with me.
Terrific part two! The Creepy Victorian Cat coming to life as a detective makes me so happy. Can’t wait to read part three.❤️
I love Creepy Cat so much and I'm so happy to read more of their adventures! Sending you lots of love!