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Write about a human and a cat that come to some kind of mutual understanding.

Posted in Character on Feb 24, 2023

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✍️ 122 stories

The Many Lives of Oberon

Shortlisted for Contest #187 ⭐️

CW: Themes/mentions of death***He waits in his car for nine minutes before approaching my parlor. He stops at the window, leans forward to stare at the shop sign, waits for the person behind him to continue down the sidewalk. Only then does he glance over his shoulder, throw open my door, and scamper inside, holding an ash-gray cat as close to his chest as a love letter.He shuts the door then turns to take in the shop's interior: the jars and vials on the shelf labelled "Potions," the votive candles tucked inside random nooks and crannies, t...

69 likes 104 comments 104
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Old MacDonald Arrested

Shortlisted for Contest #187 ⭐️

Old MacDonald had a farm, and on that farm he was training animals to infiltrate the halls of power. Old MacDonald (72) was arrested dressed as a clown. He planned to snare the nation with delicious fast food laced with cocaine. It was Furball Fluffington who infiltrated the despot’s network. That cat sure wears the hell out of those boots, this reporter must say. The hat isn’t a bad look either. “I’ve been undercover on the farm for months now,” said Furball. “And on that farm he had a cow. The bovine was training for something involvin...

54 likes 101 comments 101
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Cats!

Submitted to Contest #187

“I know you think I’m crazy, but I’ve found myself.”He’d gone over and was in real trouble; I mean Jack Nicholson Shining trouble. And when he said crazy I heard a whisper in my ear—you are NOT a trained psychologist. Yes, beyond my capability to help, way beyond.Yet, I grew up with my kid brother; I took care of him all the way through high school. Our dad worked at the mill double time, and Mom passed when we were both kids. So it was up to me, Dad said, when he wasn’t around, which was always. It was the little things I remembered more th...

49 likes 56 comments 56
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Selected Lives of Fenwick Fogpaws

Submitted to Contest #187

1My first life was a disappointment when compared to all my others. It was short, and I spent most of it a lot wetter than any cat would like. I never found out exactly how it ended because whatever got me came at me from behind. Of course, the Fenwick Fogpaws of later lives would never be snuck up on, but first lives are pretty tough on a lot of cats. My “number one” is only worth a mention because that’s when I made my first attempt at understanding.I was a little orange tabby street cat, never even got to be full sized. I thought rain was...

27 likes 14 comments 14
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Schrödinger’s Kitty

Submitted to Contest #187

“Good morning my friend! Up, up, up. Now!”“Mmffumplemuff!”“I do beg your pardon, but it’s morning and I’m hungry. And I’m hungry now and it’s morning!” “Phdtts. Stop it you mangy mongrel, get off my face!”“Mongrel? Indeed! I’m no cur, no slavering, slavish mutt. ‘We are not impressed, We are not amused,’ now get up you lazy piece of no good human.”“Kitty!”“Schrödinger!”“Get off!”“My God, you don’t need to be rude about it, and throwing me off the bed is just spiteful. Now hurry up, I’m waiting… the longer you take, the louder ...

27 likes 21 comments 21
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Did You Hear the One About the Woman Who Hates Cats?

Submitted to Contest #187

      Jenn’s thirty-two-year-old husband, Jaret, passed away three months ago from throat cancer. It shocked everyone, for no one knew he was sick. Especially Jaret, who had gone to the dentist for his annual checkup when the doctor noticed unusual growths on his enlarged tonsils. A trip to an Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor and an oncologist confirmed the professionals’ opinions. From there, it went all downhill.       Jenn was understandably devasted that at twenty-nine, she was a wi...

24 likes 25 comments 25
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Princess, the Writers Muse

Submitted to Contest #187

Every great writer needs a muse Annie believed, hers just had a fuzzy tail and a cute face. Princess was her partner and writing companion. The romance novels she wrote were a fun hobby, but even she knew they were missing something, her plots were lifeless.  She wrote about what she knew, her heroines all had loving, adoring cats, and her heroes were modeled after her perfect husband Walter, the brilliant scientist. Annie wanted to spark up her stories, but did not know how.   She loved what she wrote, but no one else di...

22 likes 17 comments 17
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Pests

Shortlisted for Contest #187 ⭐️

I have a black cat. I picked her up from the parking lot of my local Dairy Queen as a kitten, and I had to quickly get used to the sound and commotion she made in the night. I laugh at myself when I think back to when I first got my cat and I used to get up several times a night because I thought I someone had broken into the apartment. I would sneak down my hallway my hand would cover my heart as icy dread spread over my skin, seeing two round eyes reflected green in the dark. "You scared me," I used to tell my cat in a breathy laugh, rea...

21 likes 8 comments 8
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Mother Nature - The Story of A Serial Killer

Submitted to Contest #187

This story contains sex and violence.---I don't think fuck, or any other derivative of that monumental word, should be changed to duck when I finger-bang my passion into a text. If I ask a man to come over, we're not going to duck anything. So.Also: Do you know that ducks take part in forced copulation? Biologists and other smart-ass-types say that ducks waddle in a line because it makes them less suspectable to predators. They say the waddle also helps them forage for food. But I think they do it because back at the duck pond, the male duck...

20 likes 22 comments 22
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The Cat, The Dragon, and The Maneki-Neko: A Mike Dodge Mystery

Submitted to Contest #187

The mid-September breeze caressed my newly shorn neck, and I felt like the shit, senior heavyweight class.At the right-angle gutter between the Dollar Palace and Sandy’s Beauty Supplies, warm, brisk cross-currents had trapped a dust-devil of discarded Rescue Squad Subs wrappers, dead Fireball nip bottles, used vape pods, and even a deceased Trojan kiting about like a Man-of-War in a hydrothermal vent of sadness. The sirocco coursing in from the Beltway bore an incense of double-stacked burger, non-trans-fried chicken, cumin and curry and gar...

19 likes 25 comments 25
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Charlie

Submitted to Contest #187

Content Warning: Death, alcoholism, depression, thoughts of self-harm Daniel preferred the "airline" bottles. They were easier to steal from the liquor store and easier to hide from the scum out there who would steal them from him. His fingers were almost too numb to twist the tiny cap, but the promise of a shot of - he glanced at the label - pineapple rum gave him superhuman determination. The meager dose of syrupy fire barely warmed his belly as it washed not enough of the rising bile of memory back down his throat.  The six bottl...

19 likes 8 comments 8
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Kitty and the Alien

Submitted to Contest #187

    Thud! Crash! Meoooow!    What was that? I am used to the sound of my cat thumping about the apartment, but she weighs only eight pounds. Something far heavier made that first noise. I jumped up from my desk in the bedroom and made my way through the usual piles of books on the floor to the living room. Such is the life of a historian.    I thought about the sounds as I moved. Something large crashing into …what? I didn’t have anything nice in the apartment. I couldn’t afford any...

18 likes 8 comments 8
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The Bridge

Submitted to Contest #187

Jason stumbled to the bridge, each step a struggle, his body heavy with grief, his mind fuddled by alcohol. He wasn’t sure what day it was, where he’d been earlier. Oh, yeah. The bar. They’d tossed him out, eighty-sixed him just as happy hour was ending and said, “No more, Buddy.” He wasn’t that drunk, though—and certainly not belligerent. Just crying into his martini, weeping like a five-year-old—the salt of his tears mixing with the drink, indistinguishable from the juice of the plump olives impaled within the glass, dead.  He step...

18 likes 9 comments 9
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My Emmy

Submitted to Contest #187

The cat remained still, almost too still, under the oak tree in my front yard, observing me as it has for the past three days. Siamese, of that I am sure, only because Emmy favored them. Not me. I tolerated them only for her. A dog person myself, I always had one until recently. I only owned one at a time, all King Charles Spaniels, all male (neutered of course), and all named Justin. Always wanted a son named Justin, but it never happened. No daughters either. Just as well, I suppose, Emmy hated that I wanted her named Justine. "Git!" ...

18 likes 16 comments 16
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Black Cats and Black Sheep

Submitted to Contest #187

After taking a deep, controlled draw of his Italian cigar, he pointed it at me to indicate it was my turn to shoot. The game's tempo had flatlined as we played hide and seek with only the cue and eight-ball remaining on the table. Our pockets were on opposite sides, causing a stalemate in which neither of us was willing to give up a good position and risk losing the five dollars.  Five dollars feels like ten when you win it in pool, twenty when you can barely make rent. There's a sweet satisfaction in hearing silence wash over a demean...

18 likes 10 comments 10
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