The Tales of Brian Pussycat

By Karmin Bo

After reading the escapades of Brian Pussycat and his friends, you'll start and see your cat very differently! Set in an industrial town in the heart of England, there's never a dull moment with this bunch. Brian's stories are short 'n sweet and good clean fun for all the family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781620951552

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PROLOGUE

After reading the escapades of Brian and his friends, I guarantee you’ll start and see your cat very differently! Believe me, there’s never a dull moment with this bunch.

Set in an industrial town in the heart of England, Brian welcomes us into his feline world. His stories are short ’n sweet and good clean fun for all the family.

THE MINE SHAFT

CHAPTER ONE

It was a sunny afternoon toward the end of last spring. I was three gardens away, about to swim through a misty sea of bluebells when I heard the echo of my full title, Brian Pussycat! Actually, I should say Brian Puthy cat. You see, Miss Truelove, the nice lady who had rescued me from that awful cats’ home a month earlier has a pronounced lisp. Reliably, her endearing call would continue as she gently tapped her teaspoon on my saucer of pilchards until I emerged from the stumps of the raspberry canes, my gateway to Badger’s Path. A family of badgers trod this path for many years as they foraged for worms and slugs but I’m told, the whole family up and left mysteriously.

It was teatime and I was returning from a full day’s exploration of Smithwick playing fields at the bottom of the garden. Here at weekends, noisy humans play cricket and football. The fields are surrounded by tall trees and bushes, the purrfect haunt for a cat who takes his hunting skills seriously. As I said, my focus that day was on exploration as I was still new to the area. By teatime I was ravenous and could think of little else but Miss Truelove’s pilchards. Mmm, they were the best and hey guess what, after I’d licked the saucer clean, I fell asleep and dreamt I was eating a whole salmon to myself. It was licking my lips that woke me up. Little did I know then, the adventure that awaited me later that night.

CHAPTER TWO

It was dusk and the air had cooled from the mildness of the day. I sat on the back door step grooming my coat, as earlier, I’d managed to collect some cobwebs and grass seed in my seat. I remember thinking, the girl at the cats’ home who incidentally we all called Cat Woman, would have had me scrubbed and blow dried if she’d seen me like this. She once described me over the phone to a customer as a young marmalade tom with snow white bobby socks. Any self respecting cat keeps their paws clean but I can tell you it takes a lot of licking to keep them snowy white. I do like to look smart though and that Saturday evening I was to meet up with some friends at The Pavilion, a very select cats’ club. I’d only been twice before but already line dancing had become my weekly routine.

It was Chips who invited me. He is a ginger tom like me but without the socks. Chips comes from a large family of army cats and has served for two years as a mouse catcher. He’d just been made lance corporal when he was made redundant by the regiment. The major had complained there were more cats on the camp than mice, so sadly, he and a whole company of cats had to pack their bags bound for Civvy Street. He’s more than two years older than me and sees me as his kid brother. We became best pals when we shared the same cage but he got sold a couple of weeks before I did. Boy could he switch on the sad eyes, I’m telling you he was born to act.

A lady had been in the cats’ home a couple of times goo gooing at Chips as he peered up pitifully with a selection of his ‘helpless’ meows. The third time Chips did his ‘head on one side routine,’ I was seriously looking for a bucket when her husband who has a red, pockmarked face pointed at Chips saying, The wife wants ’im! As Cat Woman lifted him out of the cage, Chips gave me a wink looking so smug, I chuckle whenever I think of it.

Then I began to realize I mightn’t see Chips again and felt really sad. To think we’ve ended up living across the road from each other, just how amazing is that? Chips watched me move in with Miss Truelove and came straight over. After high fives and hugs we arranged to meet the next day for a reunion chat and tour of the immediate area. Chips couldn’t wait to introduce me to Fliss Little and Florry Large as he called them. As we all hit it off, I was immediately included in their social calendar. I’ll tell you more about Fliss and Florry in a minute.

CHAPTER THREE

So here I was on my third visit to The Pavilion. When we met up that Saturday night, Chips told me how every time he walked back in the house, his new landlady, Mrs Kettle, spoiled him rotten with fresh helpings of squirty cream. Her husband though was a different kettle of fish, pardon the pun! Chips describes him as a weirdo who goes ballistic at anything and everything, but particularly at cats who scratch and flick their ears. Chips was an habitual scratcher and flicker which led to many a close shave from thrown slippers or sandals. Not to be outdone, Chips gleefully told me, I get my own back. The missiles rain down, I scarper out of the room, pull up a few carpet stitches as I go, and then a hind foot in my ear for one last scoop, it’s great fun! Then choking back laughter bordering on the hysterical Chips adds that this gets Mr Kettle even more enraged and a chase ensues.

What happens if he catches you? I asked with a ‘Cheshire cat’ grin.

Oh he won’t catch me. Ah, a year or two in the forces makes a cat! bragged Chips."

Excuse me, are these cushions taken? said a squeaky voice. Such was the entrance of our newly found friends. It was Fliss, the posh cat from next door with her friend Florry. I could see what Chips meant when he called them Little and Large. It is because Fliss is daintily built, with long white fur featuring a mixed dab of black and ginger on her head. Like me she’s only a young cat but already, heavily into Skunk Rock. With her it’s a fashion fad more than the music. She likes sucking her fur into balls and wears an oil slick on her back from walking under parked cars.

Florry, however, is more old fashioned. About a year older than Chips, solidly built with a tortoiseshell coat that makes her a favourite with humans. A very cautious cat but with a track record 007 would be proud of for reducing Smithwick’s mice population. As hunters, she and Chips have a lot in common, which is good seeing as they are next door neighbours. I’m grateful for the tips they give me as I take seriously my responsibilities. Mouse catching and cuddles is the service humans expect from their cats in return for free food and lodgings.

CHAPTER FOUR

Feigning impeccable manners, Chips and I immediately rose to our feet