Mayor Robert T.Hisston, known to his friends as Big Bob and to his enemies as Bigger Bob stamped the snow off his boots as he entered the city's combination sheriff's office/city jail. He was a large, well muscled orange cat and it was Bigger Bob who was paying this afternoon's call.  His ears went flat back and his tail started twitching as he surveyed the mess around him.  The reception area was littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, sleezy magazines and wadded up pieces of paper. Damn that Deputy Sheriff Harlan T. Katz, where was he.

It may be true, he thought to himself as he stomped around the reception area,  that this town was built from wealth of the Pretty Kitty Silver Mine.  And it was also true that said Pretty Kitty Mine was discovered by one Ephraim Katz in 1882. But nowhere in the glossed over town history did it mention they way old Ephraim discovered it. The truth was that the miserable old coot stumbled dead drunk out of his cabin, tripped over his own paws and landed face first on top of one of the states biggest silver loads.  Nor did it describe how as soon as the family had made its first million, the brightest of the bunch,and the term brightest was used loosely, decamped to anywhere but here, leaving the losers behind them to leach off the town forever, Because as well as leaving the town half of the proceeds of the Pretty Kitty, Ephraim left a codicil in his will linking the money with his family.  The town would get it's share of the wealth, if it promised to take care of any family member too stupid or feeble to care for themselves.

So here we are 132 years later, and all that's left of the famous founding Katz family is, Suzette Katz, that miserable old troll who owns the Kat House. And because of that damned will, for forty years the law had turned a blind eye to what was really being served up in that venue.  Larry "Scooter" Katz who personified the three d's often attributed to the family: dumb, degenerate and disgusting; and last and always least, Harlan T. Katz, the laziest, most malingering loser to ever become a city employee.

Getting madder by the minute, he pushed his way through the door and hollered into the dimly lit jail area, "Harlan, where in the hell are you?"

"Back here, boss," he heard him reply.  Switch on the lights, I'm in cell number three.

The Mayor turned on the lights and saw that Harlan had created a cozy nest for himself in the cell. It was decorated in purple, black and green just like the bruise that he was on the city's budget. He had purple and black striped curtains, fluorescent green  flowered cushions and was even  wearing a purple, black and green cowboy hat.  Being that Harlan's fur was best described as puce, all of this color surrounding that pasty face was enough to make a feller puke.

"Harlan, what are you doing with that laptop?  Why aren't you sitting at your desk manning the phones? Why are you sneaking around back here.  Are you wasting the city's money looking at pornography or are you playing some kind of zombie game?"

"Oh no, boss," he replied in that dumber than dirt innocent way of his, "I was just keeping up with national events of great importance. Lynx News is fair and unbiased and only carries stories that everyone should care about."

"Such as,"

"Well you will not believe what is going on down south.  There's this couple whose land is infested with alligators. And then there's this other feller who got arrested for having sex with a picnic table.  It was one them circular kind with a hole in the center.. "

"Harlan, enough, that will be enough!" Big Bob hissed as he planted his large paws on his hips.  "I came here today to tell you that the City Council has given me permission to write to the powers that be up in Denver and request that they send us a real Sheriff.  So I suggest that you leave that cell, before I lock you in it, and march yourself into the front room.  Once you get there I want you to toss every last bit of trash out and then sit at your desk practicing looking efficient.  The way I see it, if you practice looking like your working long enough, when the real sheriff gets here and expects you to actually work, the shock won't kill you."