Itty Bitty Kitties: The Pet Set, #2

By Ann Omasta

What could possibly be better than fluffy and snuggly Goofy Newfies? How about if some playful and adorable Itty Bitty Kitties join in the fun?

 

This heartwarming read has it all… lighthearted laughs, adorable animal antics, and all of the positive, happy feelings you crave. It even squeezes in a delightfully sweet romance.

 

Whether you are a dog person, a cat person, or someone who has always wondered what all of the fuss is about, this book is a feel-good read that will leave you smiling and appreciating your favorite pet.

 

Curl up with this charming contemporary romance novel today. It can be enjoyed as a standalone read or as the second book in The Pet Set.

 

THE PET SET:

1. Goofy Newfies
2. Itty Bitty Kitties
3. Funny Bunnies

Snag Itty Bitty Kitties today because you deserve more fun, happiness, and cuddles in your life! Which side will you choose? #TeamDog or #TeamCat?

 

PS. From Rascal, the dog: "Why would you want to read this silly cat book instead of Goofy Newfies? I don't understand, but I'll forgive you because I'm a loving gentle giant. Dogs love their hoomans more than anything. Cats barely tolerate their peeple, and they like to play scratchy-bleedy games. No, thank you!"

 

PPS. From Morty, the cat: "I won't even touch on that dumb dog's atrocious spelling. Cats are obviously more intelligent and have more discerning tastes than dogs. Silly old dogs will love anyone unconditionally, but you have to earn a cat's love. Cats rule and dogs drool… literally."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Omasta
• Release date: Dec 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386484295

Ann Omasta

Ann Omasta is a USA Today bestselling author.  Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities: I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk. I love, love, love finding a great bargain! Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick! ** I would LOVE to send you a free copy of my novella, Aloha, Baby! Visit annomasta.com for details. ** Stay up-to-date on new releases and insider info by liking / following Ann: - Facebook: facebook.com/annomasta - Goodreads: goodreads.com/annomasta - Bookbub: bookbub.com/authors/ann-omasta - Website: annomasta.com

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Itty Bitty Kitties

1

My bucket of fried chicken

The wind whished through my hair as I drove my trusty, old, bright yellow convertible Rabbit down the busy four-lane road. I lifted my chin slightly as I savored the feeling of freedom that washed over me. It was a bright, sunny day, and I was a newly single, confident, independent woman.

Julia, you can do this, I told myself silently before amending my affirmation to, I will do this. It’s not like I have any other choice, I realized looking down at my already-showing tummy. Placing a protective hand over my belly bump, I smiled to myself. We’re going to be okay, little one, I promised out loud, which earned me a glare from the crate on the passenger-side floorboard.

I’m sorry you have to be in your crate, Pretty Kitty, I peeked through the holes in the plastic at my gorgeous, white Persian cat, who was my pride and joy. She narrowed her emerald-green eyes into half slits and aimed them in my direction to let me know she heard me, but didn’t care to accept my apology. I imagined that she would be shooting poison-tipped darts at me with that scowl if she could.

We’ll be there soon, I promised her. She turned her head away from me and flicked her tail. It was her feline version of flipping her nose at my lame attempt to placate her.

Her regal posture made her look like a queen as she twitched her tail in annoyance and ignored me, despite the fact that I had sprung for the extra-large crate to give her plenty of room.

I’m just worried about your safety, I muttered more to myself than the cat, since P.K. was steadfastly refusing to acknowledge me.

Deciding that getting her to forgive me while she was still locked in the offending crate was a lost cause, I shifted my attention to the large bucket of extra-crispy fried chicken sitting in the seat beside me. The delicious aroma wafting over was almost irresistible.

I had gotten the chicken as a delicious surprise for my cousin, since he was so kindly allowing me to move in with him after the rest of my family had turned their backs on me. My parents were acting like I was the first woman in the history of the world to get pregnant out of wedlock.

It’s not like it had been a one-night stand or fling, either. I had believed that Brett and I were on the track to marriage. Shaking my head to clear out the anger and hurt feelings, I redirected my thoughts. I refused to think any more right now about the people I was supposed to be closest to shunning me in my time of need because I didn’t want to get all weepy again. Getting away from all of them and going to stay with my cousin, Van, for a while was clearly the best thing for all of us––especially me and my unborn child.

Shifting my attention back to the chicken, I decided that digging into the bucket for one piece of chicken would be permissible. After all, I was eating for two now. This piece could go directly to the baby. I would politely wait for my piece until Van was home and we could sit down to eat together.

When I pulled to a stop at a red light, I decided I had waited as long as was humanly possible. As soon as I lifted the lid from the bucket, the smell of hot, juicy chicken overpowered me. It had been a long time since I had tasted greasy fried chicken, since I generally watched what I ate and ordered the sensible cage-free, organic grilled chicken. The baby must have been craving something deep-fried because I grabbed a piece from the bucket and tore into it like an animal. I’m pretty sure I actually groaned with delight at the first taste of it, not caring that the top was down on my car or that people were probably staring and judging me.

My laser focus on the delicious chicken was probably the only reason I didn’t see what was coming. I suppose it’s for the best because it probably would have petrified me. I don’t mean frightened me a little. I mean actually petrified me into a statue. The sight of what was heading my way would have literally scared me to death.

Just as I was scarfing down my second bite of chicken an enormous, black, hairy beast with huge white teeth hurled itself into the passenger seat of my car!

2

THAT woman and her giant, unruly beast

Everything happened so fast that it felt like a blur. I sucked in enough air to fill a balloon, but was too startled to scream. Pretty Kitty puffed up to twice her normal size inside her crate. Each strand of her long, white fur seemed to be standing at attention. She opened her mouth as if to hiss and spit, but nothing came out. We must have looked like startled twins with our eyes and mouths wide open, but no sound emerging.

For a moment, I thought that this was how my life and the lives of my two babies were going to end. I was sure that a black bear had jumped into my car and was ready to attack. My short, rather dull life flashed through my head, and the first thought that popped into my mind was that I wished I had been able to meet my unborn child. My arms instinctively cradled my belly in a feeble attempt to protect the life inside it.

The beast buried its head inside the chicken bucket, so I scrambled to reach the door handle in an attempt to escape while the animal was distracted. I struggled to open the door, even as I carefully reached past the furry beast to try to reach my cat’s crate and lift her out of harm’s way.

In my panic, it took a few moments to become aware of the woman, who had jumped out of the red Jeep beside me, and was standing on the passenger-side of my car. When she yelled, something about her serious tone made the beast pause. I froze in place as well.

Rascal! she screeched. That’s a bad boy, she shook her pointer finger at him.

The animal lifted its head out of the chicken bucket and turned to look at her. I was stunned to realize the black beast wasn’t a bear at all, but a dog… an enormous dog.

Turning her accusatory finger at me, the lady said, Get that chicken away from him. The bones are bad for him.

Too shocked to do anything but obey the bossy woman, I snatched the cardboard bucket over to my side of the car.

Once I had a moment to process what had happened, I was irate about the snappy tone she had taken with me. Is that all you have to say about this? I splayed my hands out, indicating her huge dog’s invasion of my car.

The driver of the SUV behind us chose that moment to blare his horn at us for not moving, even though the light had turned green. I turned to give him a piercing glare that would have made P.K. proud and shouted, Really? He nodded to acknowledge that I had a point and smiled rather sheepishly.

Turning my attention back to the fiasco at hand, I saw the woman opening my passenger side door to let her dog out. Now, tell this lady you’re sorry for stealing her chicken, she chastised the animal in a lighthearted, sing-songy voice.

As if understanding her, the black dog turned his forlorn chocolate brown eyes in my direction. I could almost imagine him saying he was sorry, but that the smell of the chicken was too much for him to resist. He would have been cute, if it weren’t for the two long trails of drool hanging from both sides of his saggy mouth. He licked his chops and managed to fling one of the goo trails onto the back of my seat before turning and slowly loping out my car door that the woman was holding open for him, onto the street’s pavement and then up into the Jeep.

I couldn’t blame the animal for his complete lack of manners. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been properly trained. It was hers. I narrowed my gaze at the woman who was now closing my door, apparently ready to return to her vehicle without so much as an apology for her pet’s appalling behavior.

Is that it? I asked her. The incredulous tone was unmistakable in my voice. Your dog scares the living daylights out of us, steals my chicken, slimes my car, and you’re just going to go on your merry way as if nothing happened?

Oh, she held up her pointer finger as if suddenly remembering something. Turning back to her Jeep, she retrieved her purse and dug around in it before handing me a twenty-dollar bill. For the chicken, she clarified when I gawked at her.

The man in the SUV behind us lost his patience again and chose that moment to squeal around my car, missing my back bumper by mere inches. He ran the light, which had recently returned to being red and almost caused an accident in the process. The other woman and I both clinched up as we watched him narrowly miss getting hit by a car travelling through the intersection with a green light.

Well, we better get out of the road before we do cause an accident, the woman said dismissively.

I couldn’t believe she was ready to just proceed with her day as if nothing had happened. When she reached down to pick up the bucket of chicken, I nearly came unglued.

You’re taking my chicken?!? The gall of this woman was unbelievable.

She turned back to me as if not comprehending why I would be upset. You’re not going to eat it, are you? She sounded so rational, and for some reason that made me feel even more rage towards her.

Of course not, I snapped. After all, her dog had drooled all over it when he leaped into my car and shoved his massive head into the bucket.

Well, I paid for it, she answered, making my blood boil again with that blasted rationality. We are heading to obedience class, so my sweet Rascal will deserve a special treat for all his hard work. She had turned her head to look at the beast that was now sitting in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. His pink tongue lolled out to the side of his mouth and he was panting like it was a hundred degrees, rather than the comfortable seventy-four it actually was.

You’re going to need a special treat after all that hard work, aren’t you, sweet boy? She was making kissy lips as she talked to the animal.

So, you’re going to give him the chicken as a treat after what he did? I asked, completely taken aback at the woman’s complete lack of pet parenting skills.

Oh, I’ll pick it off the bones first, she reassured me, obviously totally misunderstanding my problem with her plan.

But he jumped over here and stole it from me, I tried to make her see the issue.

And he’s very sorry. Aren’t you, boy? She was still talking to the dog, not me.

He answered her with a single, loud Woof! She squealed and clapped, then looked at me, like I should also be proud of and impressed by the unruly animal.

Deciding that I needed to get as far away from them as possible, I said loudly, I certainly don’t want to keep you two from getting to obedience class. It was a passive-aggressive statement, but I hoped she would get the hint about how much they both needed the training.

It’s our first one, she revealed as she waved and smiled like we were old friends and tried (rather unsuccessfully) to get the dog to move out of her seat.

No way, I mumbled sarcastically as I put my car in gear and gunned the gas pedal to get through the green light and as far away as possible from that crazy woman and her mischievous dog.

Looking down, I realized that P.K. was still puffed up in an angry ball. It’s okay, baby. At least he didn’t seem to notice you down there. I tried to soothe her. We will never have to see those two yahoos again, I promised my beloved cat.

I had no idea how far from the truth that particular promise would turn out to be.

3

A giant sloth and a feral feline

I did my best to shake off the terror and subsequent anger that the uninvited visitor to our car had caused, but the moment of freedom and independence had been ruined. I turned up the radio in an attempt to regain the positive vibes I’d been enjoying before, but it didn’t work.

Pretty Kitty refused to even look in my direction. She obviously blamed me for the entire fiasco.

I didn’t have anything to do with that, I explained as if she could understand my words. She resolutely ignored me, opting instead to furiously lick her already-clean right shoulder. Somehow feeling the need to justify myself to her, I said, I didn’t want him here either.

When she continued to ignore me, I decided to stop trying. She would forgive me in due time. She always did, but it had to be on her schedule, not mine. If I tried to force it, the result would be a longer shunning. I’d had enough cats over the years to know that.

We approached another fast-food chicken restaurant, so I pulled into the drive-up to get another bucket of deliciousness. This time I left the lid in place, not wanting the delectable aroma to cause a repeat of the almost-disaster that happened earlier.

When we arrived at the town where my cousin lived, I instantly fell in love with the quaint atmosphere. It was literally a one-stoplight town, with one flashing red light at the four-way stop. People were out walking on the sidewalks, kids were riding bikes, and everyone looked happy and friendly. It was so different from the pinched, unhappy faces of the hurried people I was used to seeing.

At home, people only seemed to go outside for their regimented 30-minutes of daily exercise. In this town, people were strolling and chatting, like they were honestly enjoying their time outside––not being forced to inhale a few breaths of fresh