"Well I'm glad to see you've finally gotten here," Harlan said dramatically as Squig walked into the office.  He was carrying a mug of coffee and wanted to spend the day reviewing the files and making plans on getting to know the town. But it appeared that those plans would have to wait, since his deputy looked like his head was about to explode. He was dancing around, nervously and staring directly at him, occasionally clearing his throat.  There was obviously something he wanted to tell him, so he decided his best course of action would be to let him get it off his chest and then he could spend the morning reviewing the files.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Har," What was his name? Squig thought to himself. They'd been introduced last night and he remembered that it began with Har.

"You bet there is," Harlan said emphatically. He had his paws on is hips and leaned forward as he announced.  "We got ourselves a real situation here, boss."

"We do?" Squig asked taking a sip of his coffee.  Mayor Hisston hadn't mentioned any particular trouble last night when he was filling him in on the town.  "What kind of trouble?"

"A notorious mafia don is moving in here and bringing with him a gang of ornery orangutans."

"A what is doing what and bringing what with him?" Squig croaked almost choking on his coffee.

Harlan squinched his eyes in concentration and then walking towards the desk, spun around and said, "The infamous Weasel Felinerino has done bought himself the Cat House and he'll be moving his whole gang here."

Squig was shocked.  What on earth had Dweezil bought. "Excuse Harlan," that was it, his name was Harlan, "What exactly is a Cat House?"

"A whore house.  This Felinerino has done bought himself the town whore house, and what kind of feller would by a whore house, except a notorious criminal.

Dweezil was now the proud owner of a whore house. Squig started to chuckle and began to howl with laughter as pictured the Dweeze as the new Madame, no he'd have to be the Monsieur. What sort of hat would a monsieur where.  A tiara, that was it. Prissy, particular Dweezil in a tiara presiding over the nightly activities of the local whore house.  It would give a whole new meaning to the name, 'Chez Dweezil," He was laughing so hard, he started to cry.

"This ain't funny." Harlan sputtered. "He's got his so called sister, Yvette working as a Guidance Counselor over at the school.  She'll be guiding the kittens right over to the whore house."

Squig stopped laughing. "Look here Harlan, " he said seriously. "You're right.  This isn't funny.  The owner of the Cat House's name isn't Weasel, it's Dweezil. And he didn't know it was a whore house. He's a chef and he thought he was buying a cafe.  And Yvette isn't his sister, she's his mother. And she's one of the finest ladies I know."

"You know them," Harlan asked strangely silent.

"I grew up with Dweezil," Squig explained and I've got to warn him. He reached in his jacket, pulled out his cell, and quickly began talking.

"Hey Dweeze, I think you better sit down.  No, I'm still the Sheriff and no it still isn't clear if the town is suffering from some sort of group dementia. This isn't about me.  What do you mean, if it isn't about me then who is it about?  It's about you.  The Cat City Cafe is a front for a whore house.  You Dweezil Felinerino are now the proud owner of whore house and the whole town thinks you're a mafia don and you have a gang called the ornery orangutans.  Now Dweezil calm down.  I'm sure this can all be worked out. No I don't know who started that ugly rumor. Dweezil we all know that slander is against the law. Yes if you want to hire a lawyer, I'm sure you can do that.  But Dweezil, this is a really nice town and I'm sure we can fix this.  Yes, Dweezil, I will go over there immediately and shut the whore house down.  Yes, Dweezil I will get to the bottom of who was behind the slander.  Now calm down Dweezil, this is all going to work out fine."

By this time, Squig was holding the phone away from his ear and circling his paw as he listened to Dweezil rant and rave.  Having about as much of this fit as he could handle, he put the phone next to his ear and said, "Got to run now, someone just reported a crime."

Sighing deeply, he turned to Harlan and said, "You know, you were right.  We do have a situation here."

And Harlan for once was silent.

Several days later the following full page add appeared in the Katz City Examiner.

Dear Citizens of Cat City I would like to introduce myself.  I am Dweezil Felinerino a chef from Baltimore, Maryland.  Looking to make a move for myself and my family I bought what I thought was a wonderful cafe in beautiful small town in Colorado.  Can you imagine my shock and horror when I discovered this wonderful cafe was nothing more than a front for a whore house and that the town thought that I was a member of gang.  I want to set the record straight.  I am not now, nor ever have been a member of the mafia. I do not know any orangutans, ornery, jolly or even mildly amused.  I am chef, and the Cat City Cafe will become a place you will be proud to bring your family.  I intend to have the whole building cleaned, sanitized and every pest, insect or feline will be be promptly removed. And it is my solemn promise to you, that THERE WILL BE NO FORNICATION ON THE PREMISES.