The Nine Lives of the White Spotted Cat, Book 1

In 1919, a black kitten with a white spot on his flank was born near a small town. A year after his death, a cat who looked almost exactly the same was born, and a year after his death yet another cat was found. This happened nine times. Was it one cat, living out nine lives? Or nine separate cats? Could it be proof that cats really do have nine lives? It all started in 1919...

Puma had a mostly normal life at first as a kitten. His mother taught him and his sister to hunt and climb trees, just like any other cat. But his life is shaken when a mysterious white cat from his mother's past begins stalking his family, appearing everywhere like a ghost. Puma seems to be the only one to notice. Why won't this cat leave them alone? And what happens when he finally attacks?

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2. Rose

The bushes gave just the slightest tremble. The young feline, whiskers first, crept out. The first thing anyone watching would have seen, though, would not have been the whiskers. The whiskers, however long they were, were very thin and couldn’t be seen in the darkness. No, the first thing a bystander would have seen would be the dark colored nose, followed by the glowing yellow eyes. Next, they would notice semi-longhaired coat and small, elegant paws, and finally the smoky gray tail. But no one did see, because no one was there.

    It was possible that a man walked by with his young son down the dusty road nearby, but even if the the cat had emerged from the bush at the same time as they were walking by, they wouldn’t have noticed anyway. It was possible that the birds in the sky or the insects that crawled the ground saw, but if they did, they paid little mind. As far as others of her own kind, the area at the time seemed to be devoid of cats. The gray feline was mostly alone.

    The sound of scattering leaves was heard as a fat squirrel clumsily scampered up a tree. Seeing this as a great chance to get something to eat, the cat crouched into a hunting position and began to creep towards the tree. The squirrel, looking everywhere but at the deadly predator who was coming closer, paced back and forth along the tree branch, eating on something that the cat couldn’t quite make out. Once close enough, the cat sank her claws into the tree trunk, but removed them when she saw the squirrel scramble unexpectedly down the other side of the tree. Silently, the cat crept around the other side of the trunk, to see the squirrel going through a pattern of running five to ten feet, pausing for a few seconds, and running about five to ten feet, and pausing for a few seconds. The stealthy feline waited, until finally the fat squirrel stopped for good. As he started nibbling on something, it was apparent to the cat that he wouldn’t be moving for awhile. Her time was now. She crept closer, careful to be light-footed when crossing over a patch of leaves on the ground.

    When she was about five feet away from the squirrel, she forgot to watch the ground to make sure she wasn’t stepping on anything that might give her away and she heard the snap as her paw landed on a twig. She thought at first that she had lost her prey, but then realized that the squirrel didn’t seem to have noticed. Or, if it had, it wasn’t showing it. The squirrel went right on nibbling, without a care in the world. Are they all this stupid here? She wondered. So the cat continued to creep up, until finally she was close enough to pounce onto her prey. Bounding upward, the cat leaped and landed perfectly on her prey, and, without giving it time to struggle, she gave the fatal bite to the neck. Too easy! She thought triumphantly.

    She enjoyed her meal until she saw a snow white cat, fur gleaming bright in the darkness, approaching. He glared at her through blue eyes. She hissed defiantly. “Stay away! Get your own squirrel!” She snarled.

    The white male just looked at her. “You’re not from, here, are you?” He asked.

    “No,” she responded. “But it’s none of your business.” The gray cat did not feel like talking about where she came from at that particular time.

    The white cat went on. “I don’t care where you came from. You just need to stay off my territory and stay on yours.”

    She tried her best to cover up the look of confusion on her face. She never remembered cats having their own territories back where she had lived. Come to think of it, there hadn’t really been that many cats at all.

    “And I don’t want your squirrel. There are plenty of squirrels in the town nearby, and lots of them hang around here, too. I’m insulted if you think that I’m not capable of catching one.”

    The gray cat had to admit he was right. If all the squirrels were that stupid and ignorant not to notice a sound as loud as the twig snapping beneath her paw, then it would have been pretty pathetic for a grown cat not to be able to catch one. She, too, would have been insulted. But still! It was a fat squirrel!

    Saying no more, the gray cat thought it better to leave the white cat’s territory than stir up any more trouble. But then she heard his voice again. “Hey! My humans call me Snowball. What do I call you?”

    The gray cat thought about this for a moment. She’d never really had a name, or humans, but one cat she’d used to know had had humans that called her something. It just took her a second to remember... “You can call me Rose!”








 

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