Socrates the Cat Philosopher

By Francis Mattondo

Socrates is no ordinary cat. He is a cat philosopher. And with the ability to speak, he travels the world full of questions in his furry little head. He talks to children mostly; always in search of answers and the next meal. His philosophical ramblings are thoughtful, but always with a heavy helping of comedy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543938913

Book preview

Story One

In the Mirror Pond . . .

In the mountains of Leucadia, there was a pond with water so still that it was a mirror for all those who found their way to its quiet edge. Surrounded by high mountains and old fir trees, the mirror pond was protected from the wind as if it were a teacup nestled in the tangled branches of a rosebush. Since it appeared on no map, it bore no name. It was a secret only a few travelers ever stumbled upon. The mirror pond’s water refreshed the mind and spirit like no other body of water in Leucadia.

Peering into this watery mirror, a black cat, far from home, suddenly saw his face in a cloud-filled sky. How strange! His eyes were the same shade of blue as the sky above him. He was far from home—not because he was lost, but because he was in search of something. He had always asked himself questions. Sometimes he felt dizzy because of all the questions bouncing between his furry ears. The answers were what he craved. And he knew the answers were somewhere. They were waiting for him! How did he know this? He just knew it, just like he knew he was a cat staring into the mirror pond.

This was why he called himself Socrates the Cat Philosopher. And as charming as the mirror pond was in its stillness, Socrates knew that he could not sit on its mossy bank forever. It was true that he admired the passing clouds. They were majestic like castles cut free from the earth. However, he could not just sit and stare at his own reflection all day. And he was too hungry to sit still.

Plumes of chimney smoke floated above the trees in the distance. How would they treat him in the villages of Leucadia? Would the children of the village feed a cat philosopher? Socrates sighed and turned away from the mirror pond. At that moment his stomach was more important than watching clouds in the mirror pond.

The woodsmen of Leucadia had carved the footpath that led from the forest to the village. Since Socrates was so much smaller than these men were, he had no problem making his way through the rocks and trees to reach his goal. Along the way, he stopped to nibble on wild berries and play with caterpillars. He watched butterflies as they searched for water droplets, which were shining like diamonds among the wild flowers.

But Socrates was done daydreaming; he hastened his pace when he noticed the peaked roofs of the village.

At the first cottage, a man in carpenter’s clothes hoisted a heavy chair onto a horse-drawn cart. The white horse who was reined to the cart saw Socrates first. Bowing its head, the horse struck the ground twice with its right hoof. The carpenter became curious. He walked to the front of the cart and calmed the horse, but did not spot Socrates approaching from the forest.

A young girl skipped playfully from the cottage and stopped to watch her father tie the chair to the cart. When she heard the horse neigh, she skipped to the front of the cart and stroked its head.

Don’t be worried, Arabella. It’s not a heavy load. Just a chair for the silver merchant’s family. You’ll be back before sunset.

She took a handful of wild raspberries from her apron pocket and put them under Arabella’s snout. The horse happily gobbled up the berries with juice dripping.

Socrates realized that this girl was his chance to get a hold of some berries or even a saucer of milk. He could see cows grazing in a field beyond the road.

But how could he approach her? Socrates saw a fence in front of the cottage. He jumped onto the fence and slinked carefully through the honeysuckle vines. When he was behind the girl’s head, he stopped to watch Arabella chew another handful of berries. He waited before speaking.

Arabella must eat well to pull such heavy loads.

Yes, that’s true.

The girl suddenly turned around, half-frightened by the sudden voice behind her. She stared at Socrates in amazement.

A cat that speaks?

Oh yes. I am Socrates the Cat Philosopher. And you are?

My name is Griselda. I live in this cottage with my father. He is the village carpenter.

A fine profession, but I only like speaking to children. Will you keep my secret?

Griselda smiled and patted the top of Socrates’ head.

Of course! Your hair is so soft. Would you like something to eat?

"I thought you