Cats Triumphant! A Collection of Cats

By Jody Lynn Nye

We have guided humanity through the ages, first making sure their grain was safe, accompanying them in wooden ships around the world and even teaching them how to truly relax. Slowly we have moved, conquering their offices, homes and laps.

Now, as we look on to the next great age of cats, we have decided to give to humanity the treat of a few tales of our successes.

We benevolently have decreed that one of our devoted human acolytes, Jody Lynn Nye, will share eleven of her stories of mystery, space, fantasy and imagination in which cats, of course, are the true heroes…

~As Decreed by Athena, Minx, and Marmalade - Her Feline Overlords

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cat And Dragon Press
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781952825729

Book preview

CATS TRIUMPHANT!

A COLLECTION OF CATS

JODY LYNN NYE

Prince of Cats Literary Productions Prince of Cats Literary Productions

CONTENTS

Introduction

And So, Ad Infinitum

Sleeping Beauties

Cat Burglary

Defender of the Small

Land Rush

A Cat’s Chance

Virtually, A Cat

Purr Power

Take Me To Your Leader

Well Worth The Money

Superstition

About the Author

Other Titles by Jody Lynn Nye

Cats Triumphant

Copyright © 2022 Prince of Cats in association with Jody Lynn Nye

Originally Published in 2013 by Jody Lynn Nye

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

The ebook edition of this book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the ebook edition with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-952825-71-2

eBook ISBN: 978-1-952825-72-9

Cover design by Elizabeth Leggett copyright © 2022

Cover artwork Sir Hector and Friend by David A. Cherry

Interior design by Stephen Wise

Published by Prince of Cats Literary Productions

New Jersey 07470

Prince of Cats eBook Edition 2022

Prince of Cats Paperback Edition 2022

Printed in the USA

Introduction © 2022 Carole Nelson Douglas

And So, Ad Infinitum © 2002 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Familiars Fantastic, Daw Books

Sleeping Beauties © 2005 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Magic Tails, Daw Books

Cat Burglary © 2012 Jody Lynn Nye. First published in Cat Triumphant!, Dark Star Books

Defender of the Small © 2004 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Turn the Other Chick, Baen Books

Land Rush © 2000 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in 100 Crafty Little Cat Crimes, Barnes & Noble

A Cat’s Chance © 1999 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Tails From the Pet Shop, 11 th Hour Production

Virtually, a Cat © 2008 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Jim Baen’s Universe (Vol.2 Num 6 April 2008)

Purr Power © 2002 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Constellation of Cats, Daw Books

Take Me to Your Leader © 1997 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in First Contact, Daw Books

Well Worth the Money © 1992 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Cats in Space and Other Places, Baen Books

Superstition © 2006 Jody Lynn Nye.

First published in Furry Fantastic, Daw Books

INTRODUCTION

BY CAROLE NELSON DOUGLAS

It’s a rare author whose biography lists a main career activity as spoiling cats.

But Jody Lynn Nye is a rare author, a fantasist who’s been invited to collaborative play in Anne McCaffrey’s classic bestselling worlds of Pern and The Ship Who Sang, who is at home in the mystery as well as the science fiction genres. And those spoiled career cats make the journey with her. Jody does indeed know and love every twitch of the feline psyche and tail.

This collection presents eleven short stories in which cats play major roles, ranging from not-quite-so-helpless victim to hero, but they are always clever and inventive, and so is Jody’s writing.

In Purr Power, the ancient Egyptian cat-goddess, Bastet, observes: All humans fall into the service of the She-Cat sooner or later. There are simply those who recognize it from the first, and those who do not.

Those who do not in Jody’s stories pay dearly.

There is the hostile alien space fleet that is making hash out of the good guys’ vessel…until the ship’s cat decides to play its own game of cat-and-mouse.

There is the unfortunate human cat burglar who encounters pampered household residents Pretty Kitty and Sweetie baby to his eternal regret.

And there is the fantasy-world village that shows scant care for its abused, hard-working mousers which must answer to a visiting woman warrior-mercenary turned Pied Piper.

Writers like Jody, and myself, whose fiction centers on or includes cats, may be seen as frivolous or simply hypnotized by our feline friends. The fact is, as Aesop knew, animals are a perfect storytelling vehicle for addressing the best and worst of humanity. And Mahatma Gandhi remarked, The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.

After collaborating for almost thirty years with Midnight Louie, a self-appointed feline PI who thinks (and writes) like Sam Spade, I know how profoundly animal characters can address human foibles and virtues and touch our emotions. His character was based on a real-life stray cat with an incredible gift for conning humans to help him survive. Many writers have a mystical link with cats; it’s no wonder we write about them. They enrich our lives in the real world as much as in the worlds of our imagination.

It’s only fair we writers give these clever, cuddly, regal, mystical creatures their due.

* * *

Carole Nelson Douglas is the USA Today bestselling author of 25-going-on-27 Midnight Louie mysteries and 35 other mystery/suspense, high and urban fantasy, and romance/women’s fiction novels. Midnight Louie appears in several Year’s Best mystery short fiction anthologies and his exploits have won many first-place Cat Writers’ Association Muse medallions. His latest alphabetical title is Cat in a White Tie and Tails. Carole, an inductee of the Texas Literary Hall of Fame, is assisted in research by the rescue cats: Amberleigh, Topaz, Audrey, Winter and Midnight Louie III.

AND SO, AD INFINITUM

I can’t believe it, Loretta, Mira said into the phone. After all I’ve done to keep the place spotless, Zoomer has fleas. Stop it, sweetie. Not you, Loretta. The cat’s nagging me. One more treat, and that’s all. She shook a few Petreats out of the pink-labeled can, set them on the floor, and put the can in the white-fronted cabinet above the refrigerator. It was a long stretch for her five-foot-three, but the highest possible spot in the kitchen. The fat brown tabby cat chomped down the morsels and sat looking hopefully for more. No! Honestly, you’re going to turn into a balloon.

Fleas can come in clinging to anything, you know, Loretta said, sympathetically. Did you try…you know?

Neither one of the women liked to talk about the subject on the telephone—people might be listening. Ditto for the Internet. No references to you-know-what. Magic. But she didn’t have to be specific with her co-religionist and sister nature priestess. All right, say it, she chided herself. Fellow witch.

In the nicest possible way, Mira said, fiddling with a lock of her short, permed auburn hair. "I disinvited them. But there’s just one I simply cannot seem to shake, so to speak. It drives me insane watching Zoomer scratch at his neck like he’s trying to shred himself."

Loretta sighed. Have you just tried combing the little bugger out and squishing it between your fingers?

Bad karma, Mira said, twirling the long curly wire so Zoomer would jump for it. The cat gave it a few cursory hits, then settled down, meatloaf style, facing the cabinet.

You mean you did try and you couldn’t catch it.

Bingo. Never mind. They can’t have a very long lifespan, and it’s like there’s only one. Except for the scratching it doesn’t seem to be bothering Zoomer much. He’s been very content lately.

It’s those new treats, Loretta said knowingly. "Humphrey loves them. I have to hide the can or he pries the lid off with his teeth. You know the slogan: ‘Petreats make your pet feel so good.’"

Zoomer loves them, too. I wish we had treats that made us feel good.

We do, Loretta laughed. It’s called chocolate.

Mira glanced through the yellow kitchen curtains at the horizon. Gotta go. The sun’s about down, and I want to get that ritual going before the kids come home from band practice.

Good luck, Loretta said, with a trace of envy in her voice. Let me know how it went.

Mira didn’t care what all the old books said about covens. Magic was a solitary practice, intended to get a person in touch with the infinite. With a husband who ran a busy cleaning service out of a home office and a son and daughter involved with every activity under the sun, Mira had little chance for privacy, so what she had she cherished.

Ten years and fifteen pounds ago it had been easier to crawl into the tiny box room off one side of the attic of their 120-year-old Cape Cod house. The kids had used it as a secret hideout until they were informed it would never in their lifetimes be wired for electricity or cable. Mira had taken it over as a cubbyhole for those moments when she wasn’t working, chauffeuring, cooking, cleaning, or one of the thousand other –ings for which she was responsible. The walls were a deep burgundy red, Mira’s favorite color. In exchange for painting Loretta’s kitchen her friend had made her a thick velvet curtain to block the entrance. A square footstool against the north wall served as an altar. Mira had read about personal altars in a women’s magazine and liked the concept of a focus for her personal energies. She adorned it with dried flowers and other little things she’d picked up in places she loved. The kids were forbidden to touch it under pain of death.

Candles in wonderful holders, all purchased at a home sales party, were everywhere. She lit them with a red electronic-ignition lighter like the one they had for the fireplace downstairs. A big fat blue cushion sat in the exact middle of the room for her. Another lay against the east wall for Zoomer, who never missed a chance to curl up somewhere warm, dark, and peaceful.

Certain that her husband and kids were not going to be around for at least two hours, Mira eschewed the floor-length flowered caftan she kept on a hook in her sanctum sanctorum and sat nude on her cushion. In the flickering candlelight she couldn’t see the uneven bulges in her thighs and could ignore that incipient pot belly. In her mind she was sleek and taut as a nymph. She concentrated on capturing that wild, powerful side of herself that rode the sunrise bareback.

Something was on the floor in front of the altar. It was the rattle that was used to summon her familiar. Mira picked it up and held on to it. She didn’t need it for the ritual, but it felt good to have it in her hand. Mira had carved it herself out of a fallen tree branch, attached strings of wooden beads to one end and painted it with the symbols she found in a book. She loved the smooth texture of the foot-long, 2-inch-thick rod—but what was this? It felt as if it had been stuck all over with a pin. The kids knew better than to touch it. She peered closely at the rattle. She recognized those gouges. They’d been caused by Zoomer’s teeth. He’d been playing with it. Where was he?

Zoomer elbowed his way past the curtain and trotted over to lie down. His cushion was flanked by twin candlesticks in ribbed glass chimneys that cast tabby shadows. She gave him an exasperated look and bent to put a tablet of charcoal in the incense burner. It was filled with ashes. Hadn’t she cleaned it out last time? She shook her head. She must really have been zoned out when she closed the circle last time.

Small wonder, considering what she’d been doing.

In the books she’d been reading, the authors had mentioned a place beyond death where loving souls met again, called the Summerland. Mira had been very close to her great-aunt Violet. Violet had died at age 92 two years before while Mira and her family were on their first and only trip out of the country. Mira always regretted never being able to say goodbye, but worse yet, Violet was the last of her generation. Mira had been interviewing her to get all their family history written down for her children and, she hoped, one day, grandchildren. The two of them had managed to chart down almost all of the relatives, but didn’t have the name of the village in Eastern Europe where their ancestors had come from. Considering the way borders moved around during the last century, they weren’t certain which country it was in. Violet had told Mira the name was just on the tip of her tongue. Since she was sick in bed she promised to give the matter all her attention and she’d tell Mira when came home. Mira had never seen her alive again.

More than anything she wanted to see the old woman and tell her how much she loved her. Mira had to admit that she also wanted the name of the village. She hated to leave a task unfinished. Violet was the same way, organized and goal-oriented. Couldn’t that be a karmic reason for their souls to meet again? She firmly believed in reincarnation, so it was a risk even to go looking for Violet. She might already have gone on to her next life. Mira felt anguished. What if the old lady wasn’t waiting for her? A part of her history would be gone forever!

She glanced over at Zoomer. The sight of the cat washing himself as if he hadn’t a care in the world gave Mira confidence. Zoomer put a leg up in the air and bent his head to a task that Mira wouldn’t undertake for a million dollars or a date with Mel Gibson.

She preferred to think of herself as a weekend witch. The faith had always interested her. Most of the stuff in the history books about trials seemed to be attacks on uppity women more than against anybody practicing black arts or summoning Satan. Now that she’d done more reading, she realized the stuff about Satan was a put-up job, too. There was a mother goddess, and her consort was a horned forest god, like Herne the Hunter on that Robin of Sherwood TV show years ago. While part of her was nervous about envisioning God, she had become comfortable with these archetypes. They were the guardians of the universe as well as its creators. The God she grew up with felt too far away, uninvolved.

The idea of having a familiar came from a book on shamanism she got out of the local library. Their purpose was to act as a guide in the underworld, or as they called it in Dungeons & Dragons, an alternate plane of existence. A familiar was a servant, but also a friend, an auxiliary battery for power, and a go-between completing the circuit between her and the great source of all power. They also amplified whatever magical abilities a person had, so you had to choose an animal whose strengths and weaknesses were the opposite of your own.

She’d done a calling, as the book named it, expecting to make contact with a badger or a fox, some savage creature who would help her tap into her inner reserves. Instead, she got Zoomer. Zoomer, whom the kids had named for the way the stray kitten had shot into their kitchen one cold night and made himself at home, had looked up at her with wise, wise eyes that touched her to her soul. Mira stopped herself from putting him out the door. In four years, he had grown up to be a placid, fat tabby who liked to sleep in the sun. Mira liked cats, so she didn’t really mind.

That expressive look was the last open vestige of wisdom the cat had manifested. Since then, he became a persnickety consumer of cat food, expert mattress tester and devoted companion during Mira’s private endeavors into the occult. He gave off the greatest karmic kick. From the beginning of their association Mira felt a pick-me-up every time she tried one of her rituals, so she guessed the book was right. She also noticed she saw better in the dark.

The best thing about Zoomer, other than his purr, which could rattle the chandelier, was his intelligent silence. He never interrupted Mira with a clarion yell just as she was going into a meditative trance, saving it instead for later when Mira descended, clothed, to the kitchen. Zoomer listened to everything going on. When Loretta came over a month before to learn the familiar-summoning spell,