Mai Briefin

Musashi Sez:

Natchuralee, mai playn wuz layt getting to Londin, so bai the tim I got to M’s offis, I wuz out of breft. She greetd me all distraktd an then led me down the hall, moovin so fas, I was trottin to keep up. Whyl Q wuz fittin me wift a new camra collar and harness, an this dark laydee wift whit teeft an a whit coat wuz givin me annoyin shotz, M egsplaynd the sitchooayshun.

“Musashi, I’m sending you to Morocco, in North Africa. We got an earnest message from PyG there—“

“Yu got piggeez workin fer yu?”

“Yes, of course, but not in an Islamic country. No, PyG is a team of informers, Perro and Gatto, who work in the city of Marrakech. They’re from Spain, originally, just across the Strait of Gibraltar, and they’re rather good at sniffing out problems.”

“An sitchooayshunz?”

“Quite.”

“OUCH!” I leaped awae from the laydee wift the shotz. “Mayk her stop doin that!”

“All done, sah,” sed the laydee, an she left.

I likkt mai flank whyl M egsplaynd som mor. “I’m afraid the immunizations are necessary. There are many stray cats in the streets in Morocco, carrying God knows what. And you’ll be going to a prison—“

“But I not don aneethin wrong!”

“Of course not. Let me back up. You see, PyG’s human worked for us back in the late 90s, right before she died and left them her pension. Musashi? Musashi!”

But I had curld up an gon to sleep. Dang that jet lag aneewae.