Cats photoshopped as noir detectives

AMBER LOVE 23-OCT-2017 My work is supported by the generous backers who tolerate my cat stories at and they also get first access to what’s happening with my books and podcast. Also, buy my books with these handy links below:

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Where we left off…

Detective Inspector Guster Nabu investigated the disappearance of Gregory W. Pecker after finding a disturbing scene in the backyard.



It was after five in the evening on another hot September day. The air around us was filled with swarms of bugs. Relentless bastards. D.I. Guster Nabu was riding the high of the archaeological discoveriesGo back to Chapters 17-19 we made on the mountain. He headed for the entrance to the K2, the toughest trail on the back forty.

The K2 goes straight up and only plateaus twice: once about one-third of the way and then at the summit. I hadn’t been up there in thirty years. It took Gus’ willpower and love of exploring to convince me to try reaching the top again.


Being the adventurer that he is, Gus did try to steer me off the trail. I amused him and let him inspect some of the trees he likes. I guess he’s the boss, but there are times when I draw the line. This day, after his brief detour, I brought him back to the trail. I still don’t know what his keener senses picked up. He was hesitant about going up further at first. He did rather well considering that he has his own issues with anxiety.


We had some branches to step over and weeds that he wanted to navigate. They were so tall, his tail was like a submarine periscope. He seems to enjoy being that deep into the brush.


About two-thirds of the way up, there was a particular bank of weeds that drew him closer. He insisted on going through them. I’m not sure whether I rolled my eyes or let out a deep sigh at this point. Probably both. Tall weeds increase the likelihood of ticks. No thank you.

wooden beams

Then I saw what his target was. There’s a building essentially buried into the ground. The one side of it had two-by-fours over the ground. They looked like the only thing holding them together was the dirt. I could see that they covered open ground. Gus sniffed around and stood up on his back feet to see what the top of the structure was like. He hopped up and walked over the tar paper roof against my vocal concern about it.

Indiana Jones

He would have stayed there investigating, sniffing, peering through all the cracks. I did not want my heft on top of the roof. I’ve seen enough action movies to know what happens. I had to put a foot up and stretch out to reach him while holding his leash taut. It was nothing short of miracle that I was able to drag him closer to me because of his harness. When that boy doesn’t want to follow instructions, he makes it known. There’s always squirming, yowling, and attempts to wrestle his way to freedom.


We continued on and finally made it to the trail’s end where the green landscape opens up. There’s a tree in the middle of the clearing. Beyond that… a fucking creepy shed. Just seeing it scares me. I knew it was there. I guess something inside me had hoped that it had a makeover from Fixer Upper and was transformed into a charming little gingerbread fairy tale shed. If this is a fairy tale setting, it’s of the original Grimm variety.

rusted can

Gus loves to inspect every single thing. He examined the tree and the odd metal pole lying on the ground next to it. He inspected the outside of the shed and even the rusted out metal drum that looks like the door to the bunker in the comic book by Joshua Hale Fialkov and Joe Infurnari (*Ed. Note: it’s a great comic you should read).

K2 summit

I tried explaining it to him that he doesn’t need to inspect every blade of grass. He also refuses to hold still for photos because he’s too Sherlockian sometimes about his focus. I guess that’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s just exhausting trying to get his attention. “Gus, over here. Gus. Gus. Gus! Here. Come here. Please come here.” No respect for my vision as a biographer which includes documentary portions.


The entire time the fucking swarms wouldn’t let up. I was dealing with my own battle while Gus pulled me along. He also gave no fucks about how sweaty and gross I felt by that point. We were out for an hour by the time we reached the summit and the horror shed. My clothes were disgusting. My babushka was falling off. I didn’t want to linger and drag out this investigation. You can see below in the pics and video that I got more haggard as we progressed.

Share Your Theories:

We came up with several theories to explain our discovery as we usually do. Since I’ve taken documentary footage and plenty of photos, we’d love your input too. If the comments close off (as they do after six months) then send a tweet @elizabethamber.

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