Tiger's Adventures in the Everglades Volume Three: As told by T. F. Gato

By jay gee heath

More humorous tales (with pictures) of the cat with attitude and his adventures in the Everglades. In Three Turkeys, he sticks close to Rae because she is cooking three turkeys and surely one is for him. They both take time out to watch the crazy reddish egret. In Big Birds he tracks down vultures in the backyard fighting over a black sock disco

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joyce G Heath
• Release date: Sep 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9780989071277

Book preview

Title

Copyright © 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,

scanned, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic

or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any

information storage and retrieval system, without permission from

the copyright owner.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any

resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any

resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales

is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: eBook 13: 978-0-9890712-7-7

ISBN Print Book 13: 978-0-9890712-6-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017912570

Publisher

Joyce G Heath, Naples, Fl

Contents

Also by jay gee heath

Dedication

Acknowledgement

List of illustrations

Three Turkeys

Big Birds

Take Your Cat to Work Day

Truck Boat Crash

Black Olives

Rae’s Recipes

You may email the author at:

Also By Jay Gee Heath

Right Talents

Right Skills

Right Dreams

Right Response

Right Target

Tiger’s Adventures in the Everglades

Tiger’s Adventures in the Everglades Volume Two

Dedication

To Sam

Always encouraging

Acknowledgement

Thanks to both my sisters and my neighbor for their help and inspiration

Janet Benjamins

Jo Anne Sullivan

Jean Smith

Art by K. T. Gato

As we can all see from the pictures, Tiger is not a Maine Coon cat.

Tiger’s Adventures predate Hurricane Irma when Flamingo was a different place. During his adventures, the Park Service ran the campground operations which have since been turned over to the concessionaire.

List of illustrations

Reddish Egret 1

Reddish Egret 2

Tiger and Turkey

Buzzards Flying

Sluggo Barking

Sluggo Howling

Tiger Snarling

Lizard

Ghost Orchid

Skimmer

Heron with Fish

Tiger and Crow

Tiger with Rat Shoe

Tiger with Pizza

Three Turkeys

She was hopping mad. Really. Hopping mad. Though hopping is too mild a term. Makes me think about little rabbits or grasshoppers, and playtime. No, not hopping. More like. Raging. Boiling. Boiling mad. Yeah. Really boiling mad. Furious, seething, stamping foot mad. Not sure I’ve ever seen her quite this angry. Not even when I used her black velvet dress for a pillow. And that was an accident. Well, mostly an accident. I did go in the closet and sleep on her dress, but only because it was on the floor. It kind of got stuck on my claw and slid off the hanger and fell, and it was soft and warm, and smelled a little of her. I hadn’t meant to leave cat fur on the velvet, but the fabric just sort of grabbed it and hung on. I never meant to make her mad. Never mad. I always aim for just on the border of amazed wonder with a side of exasperation under a hidden smile. I wouldn’t want her this mad at me.

But now? Man. Something sure has set her off. I edge to the doorway, keeping my tail close. Kevlar isn’t trying to calm her. He’s listening. From a few steps away. She’s yelling in her really quiet voice. The one that means she’s reached her limit. When she uses that tone on me, I do whatever she says. I don’t even ask how high, just jump, and hope I get it right.

I stay in the doorway, ready to turn and run.

Maybe she found what I did. I don’t hear my name. Besides, it was an accident, it wouldn’t make her mad, just kind of annoyed with a sprinkle of pride.

She stomps her foot again. Kevlar backs up a step.

Huh. Smart man. I’ve never seen her this angry. I really hope it’s not the toy rabbit. It’s not the velvet dress, she already found that.

Catfish. Who does he think he is? She spits out the words.

Not me. Not the bunny. Catfish. Something Catfish did.

He can’t do this to me. I’m only supposed to work a half day. But his turdface buddy decides he wants the day off. This morning he decides he wants today off. She waves a hand at Kevlar. And I have to fill in. She stomps her foot, again. This morning, she repeats with her teeth together.

Her tone raises my hackles and I think I see Kevlar’s neck hairs sticking up.

She is wired.

Catfish tells me to work, decides I can fill in. At the last minute. Today of all days. She raises her hands to shoulder level and shakes them once.

Arghh. She takes a deep breath and looks at Kevlar. Winding down, I think.

What am I going to do, Kev? I can’t work and cook for the chickee. What am I going to do? Not quite a wail, more pleading.

Feeling encouraged, I step into the room, but keep my distance. Not too close, don’t want my tail anywhere near her feet if she goes stomping.

Kevlar reaches out and pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her. She lets him, so he timed it right. She hides her head in his shoulder and he rubs her back up and down.

I don’t like people to rub my back fur the wrong way. But it works for Boston.

And he’s smart enough not to say, there, there, which would probably make her hit him. He doesn’t say anything. Just waits. Holding in a smile.

She was pretty funny. Stomping around.

She can’t see his smile.

She finally backs away a bit calmer. I can’t do anything. He says work, I work. I have no choice. Makes me so mad. Want to slap him. She takes another deep breath and starts pacing.

I move close to the chair. My tail carefully tucked underneath.

She’s thinking now. Though I do get to say when I take breaks. Planning. Plotting. Catfish better watch out because payback is the pits.

I can quit, she says. Right. I know. I know. Not happening. I’m not going to quit. Probably what he’s hoping. But there’s no one else to manage the campground, and Thanksgiving’s always a busy day.

She walks around the room, pacing, not stomping. Kevlar and I watch. He cocks an eyebrow at her and she almost smiles. She really has cooled off. She walks to him and kisses him on the cheek. Thanks for letting me vent. I shouldn’t let him make me crazy like that.

Good. You were pretty steamed, stomping. Don’t think I ever saw you do that before, he said, adding a smile. Kind of cute.

She gives him a fake punch in the arm.

I have to figure out how to fix this. She checks her watch. Looks at me, thoughtfully.

What me? Why? Did she find the bunny?

No, she’s not looking at me. She’s thinking.

I can get some things done before I go in. Maybe split my lunch hour. But that’s still not going to cut it.

Rachel walks in, stretching. Boston’s sister. Visiting for the holiday. We all look at her.

She stops short. Freezes. Catlike, though she doesn’t know anything about cats.

What? Her eyes go back and forth between the two of them. What did I do? I didn’t do anything, she says nervously, still not moving.

Did she break something too? That’s the