Two Funky Felines

By Lynne Vernon

Jupiter and Aphrodite are two splendiferous cats! Married for some years, they live with Rob and Emma. There’s no doubt who’re the bosses in the household but our heroes allow their human parents to think of themselves as owners. Little do these mere humans credit the intelligence, wit and cunning of their pets. Jupiter is a wily, battle-scarred tabby and white from the wrong side of the tracks – his wife a beautiful prize-winning British Blue. Theirs is a union of true love. A shrewd operator in her own right, Aphrodite has a soft spot for goldfinches, the cheeky chappies Human Mummy adores. It takes all her deftness and cunning to save the little birds from Jupiter’s renowned hunting prowess, while hiding this role from her husband. After all, Jupiter would think her, well, just a little mad! 

Follow these funky felines in their rib-tickling, nigh-on-human, daredevil escapades: “Come on, Aph, we’re going to pay the puppy farm a visit.” “Oh, be careful, dear! We don’t want to get into any difficulties, do we?” “No, we don’t, but I’m going to sneak into their office and get a compliments slip. Then we can take it to the police. If they investigate, they’ll find out the truth of what’s going on.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398420021

Lynne Vernon

Lynne Vernon, born in Cumbria, graduated from Girton College, Cambridge, before embarking upon a startlingly chequered adventure that culminated in a career as a mental health professional and, finally as a psychotherapist with her own practice. Now happily retired, and living with her husband of some years, she spends her time writing, painting and pursuing an avid interest in the history of art. She has also been a reader – a lay minister in her local Anglican parish.

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About the Author

Lynne Vernon, born in Cumbria, graduated from Girton College, Cambridge, before embarking upon a startlingly chequered adventure that culminated in a career as a mental health professional and, finally as a psychotherapist with her own practice. Now happily retired, and living with her husband of some years, she spends her time writing, painting and pursuing an avid interest in the history of art. She has also been a reader – a lay minister in her local Anglican parish.

Dedication

For my dear husband, Mike – ever supportive!

Copyright Information ©

Lynne Vernon 2023

The right of Lynne Vernon to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398420014 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398420021 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

My thanks to my husband for his lovely cover artwork. Our cats, P.W. and Susie, stood in for Jupiter and Aphreodite!

I should like to thank Mrs Jean Chapman and all the members of the Peatling Magna Writers’ Group for all their guidance, support and constructive criticism during the writing of this manuscript. Cheers, fellas!

And thanks, too, to Annie, the owner of the real Jupiter and Aphrodite.

Chapter 1

Fireworks

It’s the same every November, grumbled Jupiter. Those pesky humans have a veritable obsession with pyrotechnics. They needn’t think I’m going outdoors on Bonfire Night. I’m going to stick to the litter tray and fill it up to the brim, so that our owners have to pay for their stupid fireworks night!

Oh, don’t get so jumpy, Jup. They always think of us. I saw our human mummy taking some cat treats out of the supermarket shopping bag. They’ll give us some little goodies to distract us from the fireworks. She was piling up our favourite cushions in the utility room, farthest from the neighbours’ house. She knows their two little boys love their bangers, and Human Mum wants us to be safe.

Aphrodite patted her husband on the nose with a soft paw with gently retracted claws. She knew he was frightened by the bangers and covered up his fear with bravado. She wanted to reassure him that their conscientious owners were concerned about the welfare of their pets.

Jupiter had other ideas about Bonfire Night. He had jumped out through the cat flap last night at about tea time and seen their neighbour opening the shed as he got out the besom for sweeping up the leaves from the flowering cherry in their front garden. Jupiter took his chance, while the shed door was open and crept inside. He knew Jack Smithson locked his children’s fireworks in the garden shed. Quick as a flash, Jupiter leapt up onto the shelf where the weed killer was kept and swiped the fireworks box with his paw. Rockets, Catherine wheels and sparklers scattered onto the floor. Roman candles rolled behind the rake and spades leaning in the corner. The bangers lay on the concrete floor in a brown paper bag. Jupiter seized his chance. Taking the bag between his sharp teeth, he pulled it out of the shed door, which gaped ajar, unobserved by Mr Smithson. Jupiter, his tabby markings blending in against the backdrop of the fading leaves of Jack’s beloved peonies, slunk away, the bag grasped firmly between clenched jaws. He made it back through the cat flap unseen, padded noiselessly up the stair carpet and into human parents’ bedroom. He flattened his lithe body under the bed, dragging the bag of bangers carefully behind him as he reversed towards the centre of the bedstead. Human Mummy had the vacuum cleaner out yesterday and cleaned under the bed. She would not be inspecting it again. Jupiter’s stash of bangers was hidden from human view. He just hoped that Jack Smithson wouldn’t examine the scattered fireworks too closely when he picked them up and put them back on the top shelf in his shed.

Jupiter could afford to relax.

Come on, Aphrodite, I saw a pair of blackbirds in the back garden and a robin. Let’s go and put the wind up them.

All right, agreed Aphrodite, glad of a distraction for her husband. But don’t hurt the robin. You know how fond Human Mummy is of her birds!

The two cats were nowhere to be seen by tea-time.

Darling, their owner said to her husband. Have you seen Jup and Aph? I want them safely indoors before the Smithsons start their firework display. You know how Peter and Simon relish their bangers.

I’ll shake the dry biscuit box, replied her husband. That’ll bring them in. Then we’ll shut them into the utility room with their cushions. I’ll lock the cat flap, so they don’t wander outside tonight. They’ve got a litter tray.

Peter and Simon Smithson were bereft, their father puzzled. Where on earth had the bangers got to? Jack knew he had bought some. Those pesky cats from next door had doubtless got into the shed and been responsible for the scattered fireworks on the floor. Jack had scoured the concrete floor, but the bangers remained irretrievable.

Jupiter and Aphrodite settled down onto their cushions.

Ooh, look! cried Aphrodite staring up out of the window. The fireworks look so pretty. I love them when it’s quiet. But I’m dreading the sound of those awful bangers. You don’t look worried at all, Jup.

Jupiter sprang up.

Follow me!

Puzzled, Aphrodite followed his silent footsteps up to the bedroom. A velvety paw pointed under the bed. Crouching low to peer under the bedsprings, Aphrodite reversed out and straightened up.

Oh, Jup, you are naughty! Now I can see why it’s so quiet!

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