Did you miss me? Well, I certainly would have. In case you were wondering, my humans did move and forced me to relinquish my territory for a new one.

This time there were loud machines, paint fumes— all sorts of inadequacies that are unacceptable to the terms I had established as the cat of the household. Managing humans is exhausting, but now that I have finally gotten a handle on them, my posts can continue to a more suitable degree.

That being said, have your read the first chapter sneak peek I stole from Myk… I mean, borrowed from the author? Well, I’ve got good news and bad news…

Yea, I was snooping again… I mean investigating, and it turns out that the book is in the final stages of revision. —that’s the good news. The bad news is that the first chapter has had changes! Now, if you want the full, correct story, you will have to read the book from the beginning. Well, I am displeased. After all, why should I have to read it all over again?

Although, it’s only one chapter… and the story is quite relatable-— I like the cat’s perspective. You can never have enough feline perspective if you ask me… Maybe I will read it again. And maybe I’ll share it too, when Mykela is not looking

If this title was any indication, those of us belonging to the feline species have quite a multitude of talents. For one, our eyesight is outstanding— despite the fact that we cannot see that one little treat in front of our noses. Our grace and fluidity is an artform— despite our occasional mishaps that you humans can’t help but upload to the interwebs. Finally, our ability to hide can stump even the greatest of detectives, although I have been told that some hiding spots are more “adorable” than “hiding”…

Okay, I will graciously admit that we (like all other living creatures) have our fair share of flaws.

There, happy?

Although, I will say that our intelligence and capability to love is one of the many reasons that you humans can’t seem to get enough of us… just like how you can’t seem to get enough of a good story. The first I comprehend as a compliment to my species; the second, I can provide you bibliophiles.

While Mykela wasn’t looking, I found the entire first chapter of Enigma in Eragul.

Your welcome.

Enigma in Eragul | Chapter One

Eragul was this little town out on the edge of nowhere, and yet it was the center of everything. Serval large Biped nests terraformed themselves inside a massive grove. Its civilization spread out like a spider’s legs through the rest of the little forest that was left. The mist that hung over those trees—thick spiderwebs that could weave its coolness deep into any living thing. Shivering was quite common in this place, yet it was never really cold; never really warm either, just always wet.

 I hated wet—the way my fur clings to my sides and hangs on the tips of my whiskers puts me in a constant state of annoyance. Every time you groom yourself dry, another drop always falls. The only pleasant thing about the morning was the deafening silence that followed a heavy rain before the Bipeds would come and swarm like busy, aggressive, painful ants. And just like with the ants, I learned distance myself from them—psychically… emotionally.

My ears perked as the minutiae of rain slowly came to a halt; a chill passed through me. Shaking, the drops of water flung off my fur were the last to be heard. The silence which followed— the silence that seemed to trail me like a kitten following its mother was just what I had prayed for to the Big Cat. I had always heard Bipeds talking to Him, but they were always using these weird names and phrases. I couldn’t help but shake my head at their flamboyancy. It was so much simpler just to ask the Big Cat for what you wanted, and what he wanted. That was the thing about Bipeds though— they always complicate things. Aways fighting and bickering, controlling and deceiving— it must be exhausting. It is so much easier just to go in alone… I think…

 I digress, you probably weren’t prepared for a taking cat. Granted, I don’t really “talk” per se— it’s just that Bipeds can’t understand such a refined and sophisticated language; but obviously, I can understand them. Honestly, it’s probably this lack of understanding that results in Bipeds getting so worked up over such little things: The crickets at night— well… everyone needs a midnight snack; they’re nice and crunchy, although I prefer discarded pizza slices. The dough is worthless, but the cheese is always perfect. The rats— well… if the Bipeds hunted them like any reasonable feline, they would be fine. The coyotes— well… chicken is quite delicious… so does it really matter who gets to the coop first? And the dragons— well… ever since more Bipeds started showing up, they practically disappeared—the big, scaly cowards. And finally, there’s us— the cats. Honestly, the things I have heard Bipeds say to me would make you gasp. Here in Eragul, the Bipeds are less than friendly to my feline kind.

That fact was all the more apparent when my philosophical time came to a quick close as a Biped practically ran into me while I was obviously busy; but that was beside the point— What was a Biped doing out so early in the morning?

“Excuse me kind sir, I beg your pardon.” I expressed with some nervousness I dared not let it pick up on.

“Get out of the way. Ugh, mangy rat.”

A quick, muddy kick to my stomach sent me reeling for cover underneath one of the Bipeds nests nearby. The displeasure of his muddy boots contrasted thoroughly with the rest of his coverings. His nice dress was inexplicably horrible for the weather, and despite this, he wore it anyway. Even worse was the callous, bitter look on his face that was apparent despite his curly, mangled black chin fur and starkly bald top fur. That look on its face, on his face… it remined me of when I miss a catch, when I’m hungry, like…

Despite this, his kick sent me reeling for cover.

“Ugh.”

Normally the town would be empty, and it would give me enough time to find food leftovers before Bipeds’ activity would increase to unsafe levels.

“The impudence.” I sent the man a warning hiss. Midway through my display I gagged as a caught a waft of gambling on my fur where he kicked me. Yes, gambling has a smell— not a distinctive smell, think of desperation, but with less body odor. I am honestly surprised that Bipeds can’t smell it on each other.

“Catch me being polite again.” I said to myself bitterly.

 I said this as I glared at him. I continued this for some time now while I watched him from the shadows of the Biped Nest. I watched him walk, if not run away. For a brief moment I was confused. Did I scare him? Granted, I can be quite terrifying when I want to be of course, but he came up so fast I just couldn’t…

Fast… he was always walking fast. I thought.

I turned my head and gazed at the paw prints he left in the wet, muddy streets centered between the Biped nests. The Biped’s gait hadn’t changed. The rapidity of his paw steps stayed the same from before and after he kicked me. His pace reminded me of my own when I had lost a catch back when I could still hunt— to run away from the embarrassment and shame as fast as possible without looking desperate. I almost felt bad for him until my stomach throbbed with a dull aching pain, one that I was frankly getting used to by this point.

I couldn’t help but take this chance to rid myself of the smell and muck I found myself covered in. A cat like me must strive to maintain an aura of complacency, but to be honest, I was really getting tired of Bipeds.

**********************************************************************

It was several days before I dared go back into town. Frankly, I always ask myself why I continue to scour the town for food scraps. Afterwards, I choose to forget that I don’t feel strong enough… well enough to catch much else. After many times a trying and a failing, there is only so many wounds a cat can take to his pride. Despite the town’s small size and my genius sense of direction, every time I would come here it was as if disorientation was a tragic but necessary rendering; and yet, food is food. After passing more Bipeds nests full of odd colored bottles, dragon harness-like things, and even a Biped nest full of sparkling sticks, I could feel my frustration building. Bipeds were not good for much, but at least they could serve a gentleman a meal when he arrived at their presence. These and many other equally important thoughts continued to plague me as, against my better judgment and at the will of the still-sore stomach, I decided to stop at the butcher’s nest. Now, I must admit… I don’t think the guy liked me all that much; but I am telling you he started it first. If someone yells at a gentleman and wounds in pride, the only responsible response is to reciprocate the dissatisfaction displayed, and for the previous to concede; otherwise, things escalate. I wasn’t the one to start the “feud” as we will call it, but I was sure as heck not going to lose. So, a stolen salamander here, a golden chicken there, and he was none the wiser. At least, I didn’t wait around to find out if he was; but after the last time, I figured I should get out while the going was good, you know? Cat on top, victory, message given and received, thank you very much sort of thing.

Although, the subtle breeze that followed the previous storm, (the kind of wind just enough to tickle my whiskers) carried in its paws the smell of cooked meat—savory, salty notes like music bathed my nose and tongue. I could sense my pupils dilate as my green eyes lit up with anticipation. Surely, one more victory was in order. And besides, my stomach was still aching from that jerk I met a few days ago. It was only fair to my stomach that I should eat well. Then… maybe… perhaps the pain would go away…

Well, here we are at a second post. It should be mentioned that as an author’s cat, I take my job very seriously; and that includes the understanding that books on the floor (especially the larger ones) will become my sitting places until I retire for the evening, and into my other favorite napping spot.

As you can tell, being an author’s cat is no joke, and requires a regimented napping schedule.

Although, I have been told that books are for more than just napping and sitting. Granted, your human language is not sophisticated enough for me, but I have heard that other various humans might enjoy reading books instead of sitting on them. Well, Mykela’s novel is not published yet. Luckily for you, I reviewed her selection; and have brought to you only the finest butt-cushions (err, I mean reading materials) available— all of them relating to cats.

You’re welcome.

Book One: May Sarton’s The Fur Person

Why this is not held in the same light of Shakespeare is beyond my comprehension. My human has read this story many-a-times, and I agree when she says that the feline perspective is spot on and utterly “irresistible” (her words not mine). Its literary fiction structure gave The Furr Person the freedom to explore and be himself, giving the novel “delicious” (again her words not mine) insight and detail into the mind of a cat that might otherwise be overlooked. Overall, Sarton’s The Furr Person is the purrfect book for the cat lover, or even those who just value the “flavor” (really Mykela?) of older literature.

She invites you to give it a try.

Next week, make sure you come back to witness my genius of presenting another reading option for the veracious book-reading, cat loving bibliophile. And maybe… I can slip in a sneak peak of the new Enigma in Eragul novel while Mykela isn’t looking… wish me luck!