The Blackberry Jelly That Ate Seattle

…an American International picture

Preface: On another Earth, dogs and cats are at least as intelligent as we humans and prone to all the same virtues and faults. They can also make & use tools, despite lacking opposable thumbs. This week, we examine some of the more interesting canine & feline residents of the 1930’s.

The Doclopedia #15

Pulp Era Dogs & Cats: Nick Katz, Private Eye

In 1939 Los Angeles, a cat in trouble who can’t go to the cops always knows they can turn to Nick Katz for help. Working out of an costume storage building on the Warner Brothers lot, Nick is ready to take any case…for twenty bucks a day, plus expenses.

Nick is a ruggedly handsome cat, despite showing signs of the wear and tear a P.I. Can be subject to. His left ear has three bite holes in it and his nose and right eyelid still have a faint scar from a vicious scratch he got during the Egyptian Gold case. His left rear leg still has a bullet in it, courtesy of the late and totally unlamented Vincenzi brothers, but it doesn’t have much effect on Nick, except during cold weather.

His office is pretty sparsely furnished, just a couple of chairs, a desk, file cabinet and a radio. Originally from New York, Nick is a die hard Yankees fan, which is why a Yankees pennant is the only thing on his office wall besides a calendar. Out front, in the waiting room, there’s a couch for clients and a desk & chair for Maxine, his secretary.

Down at the local precinct house, Nick is on pretty good terms with all the cops, especially Detective Rowdy McPup, who works Robbery/Homicide. McPup is a by the book cop, but he cuts Nick a lot of slack on most cases. Most Thursday nights, the two of them meet up with a few friends down at Ginger’s (a combination saloon and cathouse) for drinks and poker in the back room. Nick comes away a winner about half the time.

When Nick takes a case, he always sees it through to the end. Often, this means taking a beating or two, being betrayed by a client or even getting framed for a crime. None of that matters to Nick, who will take his lumps in the name of justice. He’s no pussy cat.

Nick is an American Shorthair Tabby, mostly brown and white. He wears a trench coat and fedora, neither one in the greatest of condition. He carries a .38 revolver and, for quieter work, a blackjack. Although he hates to admit that he needs them, Nick also carries a pair of reading glasses. When he has to drive somewhere, he jumps in his 1931 Ford, which just happens to have a police radio installed.