One Tough Cat: An Animal Tale for Adults

By Melanie Moye

Leo, a Furbearer, didnt have a privileged upbringing, but hes always been cunning and strong. Though this tabby came from humble beginnings, hes found a plush home with Eunice and her family of E-Yeows, the creatures who walk around on two paws and have fur only on the tops of their heads.

Then, one day, through a near-fatal accident, Leo gains an aptitude that borders on the supernatural. But, his powers of understanding and self-expression are severely tested when he is forced to make it in a wolfer-eat-wolfer world. Hardened and battle-scarred, he walks a fine line between being tough and respected by his peers and being cruel and hated by his enemies.

One Tough Cat shares the story of Leos hilarious journey as he finds love and harmony in unexpected places and realizes that to be happy, a tomcat doesnt necessarily have to leave home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: May 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480845428

Melanie Moye

Melanie Moye lives in Middle Georgia, where she taught English at both Georgia College and State University and Georgia Military College. For many years she conducted a prison Bible study for men and women incarcerated in area institutions. Visit the author’s website at www.melaniemoye.com

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Copyright © 2017 Melanie Moye.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Interior Image Credit: Donnie Davis

Line Drawing of Leo by Ashley Moye Shoemake

Courtesy of John Moye

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-4543-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-4541-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-4542-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017906606

Archway Publishing rev. date: 5/22/2017

A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.

Proverbs 12:10

For Flossy (And Little Sheba)

Contents

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Chapter 2: Chosen (Again)

Chapter 3: The Accident

Chapter 4: The Misunderstanding

Chapter 5: The View From Without

Chapter 6: The Neighborhood

Chapter 7: Nightlife

Chapter 8: Day Life

Chapter 9: A Deathblow

Chapter 10: My Decision

Chapter 11: New Digs

Chapter 12: Itching Ears

Chapter 13: Conflict Resolution

Chapter 14: Home Free

1

THE BEGINNING

Like most Furbearers, I don’t remember much about my early years. I suppose that if I had paused long enough to think about it, I would have told you that I had the world by the neck. No, I didn’t have a privileged upbringing, but I have always been cunning and strong. So, even back then I felt I was a creature of destiny. As I have mentioned, our home was humble—very humble. I just remember bars all around, being extremely cramped, and seeing other similar domiciles in front of me. You could hear young Furballs (as we are known until our eyes open) crying. I don’t remember a great deal about my mother either. Like me, she was a gray Tabby, as humans say, with large green eyes. I recall her telling me some of the basics: don’t talk to strangers, lick yourself all over at least once a day, climb a tree when in danger, and so forth. I never knew my father, but for many reasons, I believe he, too, was cunning and strong. I’m guessing that he wasn’t a large Fur, but I am sure that what he lacked in size, he made up for in heart.

Nor do I remember my siblings very well, only that there were about eight of us. Yes, we were a large family. I do recall my goofy kid brother Ollie. The poor fellow never had a clue. I mean, he couldn’t find a teat, for crying out loud! How difficult could it be to find your mother’s teat? He was the tiniest member of our household, and his eyes didn’t open until far later than my other brothers’ and sisters’. This kid was pitiful. The rest of us would be chowing down peacefully, and Ollie would be heading out to the end of our domicile. He was so small that he’d get caught between the padded floor of our home and the bars that formed the walls. Then he’d start to softly holler. The trouble was that no one would hear him until much later. One of the furless giants would eventually come around and help him out. I think about Ollie often; I fear he didn’t come to a good end. And to be honest, I wish I could have helped him more. I mean, I was so young myself… I barely knew the score. But maybe I could have helped him in some fashion—this crazy, mixed-up Furball.

Mostly what I remember about my home is the smell, which haunts me to this day. It’s hard to describe. There was a strange freshness that smelled a little like the tree that makes straw. But, it was not fresh! It was sterile and unnatural. Even in my adult years, I have bad memories of this smell. I have had friends who were locked up in a domicile far smaller than is imaginable, who were placed in the metal beasts, and who disappeared for days at a time. When they came back, they were different. In some cases they were never the same again. They reported being held down and then falling into a deep sleep and then awakening to a weak and disconnected sense of reality. These same individuals never had natural inclinations again. If they were male, they never pursued females. And, if they were female, they never conceived. As a matter of fact, they never smelled of desire or even would allow the males to mount them! Yes, they were forever changed. And in every case, they and the domicile they were transported in had the same unnatural aroma. That is why I will never allow them to place me in that prison. Ever! I’d rather be dead.

One day my life changed dramatically; I don’t even remember the details of how it happened. I was so young, and I must have been asleep at the time, which was a blessing. I only remember waking up to a very different new home. My first jolt was not being able to find my mom. I got hungry, and I looked and looked for her (my eyes were fully opened then). But she had disappeared, as had all of my brothers and sisters. I found myself in the company only of furless giants. In my language, we have several names for them, but the most common is the one that is spelled phonetically, E-Yeow. This is what we call the very large creatures that walk around on two paws, have fur only on the tops of their heads, and for all intents and purposes, think that they control everything. Well, truth be told, they certainly have controlled my life to a great extent. Controlled might be too strong a word. Let’s just say that I’m the kind of Fur whose destiny is tied up with E-Yeows. I am not feral, nor was meant to be.

So I found myself in the gigantic domicile of the E-Yeows. It was very frightening to be able to prowl or canvass, if you will, so much territory. I moved slowly and painstakingly at first around my new domain. I felt watched most of the time, and this was ironically a comfort. But still, I couldn’t be sure of what lay out there, waiting to snatch me up. I soon got so hungry that I was about to faint. Then, the E-Yeows gave me this white juice in a container and mushy morsels that I was able to chew with some difficulty. Perhaps it was here that I developed my distaste toward E-Yeow-prepared food. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I have never eaten their dishes that could rival the fresh, warm juice my mother gave me, nor the delectable flavor of a just-caught crawler. The E-Yeows have never seasoned my meals with what is absolutely a necessity in Furbearer cuisine: blood. Never! However, after some time with the furless ones, I, of course, got used to this most bland diet. I even grew to want it. Come feeding time, I would lap up this gruel, and in so doing, give my E-Yeows a great sense of achievement. I came to have this insight about them: the furless giants who fed us, wished greatly to please their Furbearers.

I suppose I could have gone on in this rather mundane existence for an indefinite period had it not been for the very young furless one. Now, I couldn’t tell you if it were male or female, only that it had a small amount of fur the color of the sun on its head. Its hide was very, very pale—like my underbelly. And this creature set about to make my life a living hell! I really can’t figure it out with E-Yeows as to who rules whom. With us, for example, the older, larger one (the mother) calls the shots. I can’t be sure with the furless ones. The smaller ones of their species seem to exhort a very powerful influence—again, to the point of my wondering who is actually in control. Anyway, this little creep would be left with me quite a bit. And when its parents watched us together, the E-Yeows would do that thing with their mouths, which I think is a sign of pleasure.