Catdog Novels & Stories

Jared, Oscar, and Wyatt, drunk and sex-deprived, started banging on the walls in rhythm, like a drunken drumline. Aaron raised his phone and pushed it across the table toward Knox. “Sign up.” Knox narrowed his eyes. “A dating app? That’s it?” Aaron’s grin widened like the Cheshire Cat on crack. He tapped into his gallery. Photos of women appeared. Knox frowned. They looked oddly familiar. “This is what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna pretend to be a girl… and catfish Victor.” Knox recoiled. “That’s insane.” He bit back the immediate, “fuck no,” that almost shot out of his mouth. Of course, it was Victor.

"It was called Powder. It had pink and white fur, too. Just like you." I went rigid. The comments had said it was his brother's cat. Why was he saying it was his? [Huh? Did the male lead remember wrong? Wasn't that cat raised by Mr. Stafford?] [Maybe he loved it so much he just treated it like his own. He's an ailurophile, after all.] [So the male lead treats the supporting female character differently because she resembles his old cat? See? There's no way he actually likes her.] Ian paid no attention to my stiffened body. He continued calmly.

They looked broken, half-dead in the rain. Good thing I brought them home. That's what saved them. They stored energy, slept for years, kept evolving in this twisted timeline—and produced an even stronger next generation. They hid the glitches. To everyone else, they were just regular house cats. Until the apocalypse hit. Their powers rebooted. Same game. Different round. I'd barely finished processing that when noise flared outside. "Where are those cats? Hand them over!" Alan stood there with a crowd behind him. Three massive crocodiles sprawled at his feet.

"Enough. He's the captain. Just let it go and head home—I'll see you after I check in." He patted her arm, but Mandy wasn't about to let go. "Why don't you come over? I made cream soup to thank you for saving Momo." Momo, her fluffy Ragdoll cat. Wade hesitated, then nodded and tried calling me. But my phone was dead. Completely out. Annoyance flickered across his face. "Fine, playing games again. If you're not going to answer, then don't ever pick up," he muttered.

Expectation. Brayden crouched by the wrought-iron gate, gently stroking the stray cat that had come near the estate with his little fingers. The cat had a mix of gray and white fur, featuring bright yellow eyes that gleamed like two moons in the soft, fading light of the evening. It softly purred as Brayden chuckled softly, its fur rippling beneath his hand. For a short while, everything seemed simple and innocent — just a boy and a stray animal, nothing more.

If a coyote has gotten a cat down, what exactly would my plastic water bottle do to a wild animal? “Hello,” I say, hoping the cat can hear my voice and just come out of its hiding. I kick the tall grass out of my way and climb on top of the rock so that I can see what is on its other side. And there, behind the rock, is a cat as white as snow and as cute as a button. The moment it feels my presence on the rock, the cat looks up at me and my heart immediately melts so that I let go of my defensive stance and place my water bottle back in its compartment. I am not going to hit this cat under any circumstance.

“There, so beautiful.” I hold the end of the leash and give a tug, pulling her off the chair and down to her knees. She gasps, grabbing her neck in horror. “Is this—is this…?” She was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Breathe. You're hardly a pet without a collar. Be on your best manners, Kitten, and I won't tug too hard.”

She looks up at me her smile beaming, "I did it Daddy." I smile at her, "you did, you're so smart, what does that spell anyway." She tilts her head at me, "CAT Daddy, you're being silly," she chuckles as she points to the picture of an orange tabby. The screen buzzes and she looks at it, a picture of a dog is shown next, she slaps her tiny hand on the dog and giggles, "that's a DOG right Daddy, not a wolf, wolves are bigger."

What a douche. Decency my fine ass. I turned to Catia, a smile on my face. “So, what do you do?” “Um, I just keep the sheep in line while they graze. Some of them try to run off or get distracted but I can reel them in with this.” she pointed to a stick with a curved end. She reminded me a little bo peep. “Well that sounds boring, but I’m gonna follow you anyway.”

Milo, 37, shouted "NO! She said Yes! She said No as first word and now Yes at 20! I say No to Yes!" Biscuit's great-great-great-grandkittens, 10 cats, in holy tote bag fifth generation, sneezed from rose...