The humorous adventures of Catastrophe, a feisty Scottish wildcat in an action packed roller coaster murder mystery set in Perthshire and the Scottish Highlands ~ can Catastrophe beat odious Aunt Maud?
"Taking refuge beneath Aunt Maud’s voluminous skirts the old rat had thought herself safe. I pounced. As her skirts took on a life of their own, Aunt Maud let rip a scream of outrage and aimed a vicious kick at me. She hadn’t even seen the rat! I yowled and Mary leapt angrily to her feet. Weaving deftly around chairs and legs, the cunning old creature scrabbled up a long pair of stockings and out of my reach. I shot out beneath the chair. The Heron shrieked hysterically as the equally agitated rat ploughed through her dinner, leaving little gravy paw prints on the pristine tablecloth. Her wineglass shattered on the table splattering wine over Stanley. Caught by a wildly flailing fork, her necklaces broke; pearls rattled to the floor like hailstones as the Heron fled from the dining room, but all eyes remained riveted on the drama being played out on the table.
As Prune stood rooted to the spot, the rat ploughed gamely on through a dish of potatoes. Tripping over the salt cellar she knocked over a candelabra. Unable to stop, she pirouetted gracefully through Crispin’s loaded plate and landed in his lap along with most of his meal. There was a loud crash as both chair and man fell backwards. His heavy kilt and sporran flew upward presenting the table with a matching set of tartan boxer shorts. With a cluck of consternation, Prune finally cranked into action, throwing a well-aimed napkin over the offending underwear, which merely fuelled Crispin’s panic.
‘Get it off! Get it off!’ He was thrashing around dementedly on his back, stabbing down with a fork. Bits of fur flew in every direction. The rat however had already moved on and was making a break for it through the open dining-room doors. I let her go. This was far better sport. I pounced, and grabbing the object of Crispin’s attentions, ripped it off and thoroughly savaged his sporran."
"Taking refuge beneath Aunt Maud’s voluminous skirts the old rat had thought herself safe. I pounced. As her skirts took on a life of their own, Aunt Maud let rip a scream of outrage and aimed a vicious kick at me. She hadn’t even seen the rat! I yowled and Mary leapt angrily to her feet. Weaving deftly around chairs and legs, the cunning old creature scrabbled up a long pair of stockings and out of my reach. I shot out beneath the chair. The Heron shrieked hysterically as the equally agitated rat ploughed through her dinner, leaving little gravy paw prints on the pristine tablecloth. Her wineglass shattered on the table splattering wine over Stanley. Caught by a wildly flailing fork, her necklaces broke; pearls rattled to the floor like hailstones as the Heron fled from the dining room, but all eyes remained riveted on the drama being played out on the table.
As Prune stood rooted to the spot, the rat ploughed gamely on through a dish of potatoes. Tripping over the salt cellar she knocked over a candelabra. Unable to stop, she pirouetted gracefully through Crispin’s loaded plate and landed in his lap along with most of his meal. There was a loud crash as both chair and man fell backwards. His heavy kilt and sporran flew upward presenting the table with a matching set of tartan boxer shorts. With a cluck of consternation, Prune finally cranked into action, throwing a well-aimed napkin over the offending underwear, which merely fuelled Crispin’s panic.
‘Get it off! Get it off!’ He was thrashing around dementedly on his back, stabbing down with a fork. Bits of fur flew in every direction. The rat however had already moved on and was making a break for it through the open dining-room doors. I let her go. This was far better sport. I pounced, and grabbing the object of Crispin’s attentions, ripped it off and thoroughly savaged his sporran."
