It's a hard life for a cat alone in the big city A crazy, half blind old woman had adopted me. Thinking I was a dog she'd named me Fido But spelt in the French manner, P-H-Y-D-E-A-U-X After she suffered an unfortunate accident I found myself once more alone. That's when I met Rupert Woebegone. He was some sort of private detective, but no one would hire a private dick with a name like Rupert Woebegone so he goes by the name of Sherlock Holmes When I met Woebegone he changed my name to Watson. He says I'm his sidecat He thinks that's really funny. I ignore him Times have been tough lately. The crime rate is down, and after our last case, where Woebegone almost killed the good guy's mother there haven't been too many calls. Things were so bad he tried switching me to No-Name Kibble So I threw up a furball on his "detective hat", a deerstalker in case you were wondering After a twenty dollar cleaning bill, he soon realized the error of his ways... I'm back to the good stuff He's eating No-Name mac & cheese You've probably read a book or seen a movie depicting Sherlock Holmes as a great detective. Well as you will discover in the following pages that is not quite the case. Woebegone, or Sherlock Holmes, as he calls himself is not a very good detective... OK he's crap But with a lot of help from me he usually solves the case in the end and everybody is, if not exactly happy, at least mostly satisfied. Anyway I have decided to put our adventures down on paper. In this, the first book in the series you will learn how we first met, and ride along with me, and the idiot Woebegone, as we face excitement and danger on the mean streets of Toronto