Lackadaisy Cats Novels & Stories

Usha frowned, “I’m not cute! I’m mighty! Can you bring me to my friend, please?” The lady seemed to be oblivious to his request, she kept scratching his chin. Usha couldn’t help but pur for a bit, it was a bit too comfortable for him. “Are you lost? I think I’ll take you home, kitty,” the lady said. Usha yowled, “I’m not a kitty!” He is a mighty cat! He’s really different from those silly little house cats! He struggled a bit, before finally came down from the lady’s hold, walking away with a huff.

That little cat was entirely snow white, with amber-colored eyes; its precious breed was immediately apparent. Emma suspected it belonged to a noble. She was about to instruct someone to let the cat go when a young palace maid entered. “Oh my, Pam, I finally found you! You’ve had me searching everywhere!” She hugged the little cat, and upon seeing Emma and the others, she put on a cheerful face and said, “Duchess, this is Luna Daisy’s cat. She’s been looking for it everywhere, and it turns out it’s here with you.”

Like a cat toy and cat snacks. "You have a cat?" I ask, completely taken aback as she nods, "Why haven't you mentioned it before? I love cats." "It's kind of new between us, she's just warming up to me. We're not that close," she murmurs, but grabs her phone and shows me a picture of a regal white cat with big blue eyes. It's so beautiful, it looks fake, "Her name is Mishi and you'll meet her soon... but she's not very friendly, okay? She likes to slap me a lot."

“What’s the cat’s name?” “Jack. His owner’s obsessed.” “Jack, like the one from Titanic?” I ask her. She looks me dead in the eye. “No. Jack, as in Jack the Ripper.” She opens the door, and we finally go inside. The black cat, Jack, is in the hallway, staring at us. “Why Jack the Ripper? He doesn’t seem that bad.” I move closer to pet him, but the cat hisses and tries to scratch me. I jerk back, eyes wide. “Holy crap, this cat’s worse than Amanda with a cross!”

OK, so Officer Randell wasn’t pulling my leg. “Told you so Alsie-Alsie. Big cats, and thumbs.” “It’s just Alsie, Detective Alsie. You do know there is a breed of cats with extra digits, right? They’re called polydactyl cats. Polydactyl means extra digits. It’s really, not that weird, uncommon, but not weird.” Not going to lie, a big cat, bigger than a lion being a polydactyl is weird. But I’m not about to tell Office Randell that.

Loved being able to work, play, shop, go dancing. But, much as it gagged her to admit it, she missed the damned jungle. Missed the quiet green spaces, the freedom of little to no clothing. She missed letting her damned kitty cat out. What galled her even more was having to admit it out loud. Chaob sensed something amiss when he got home and pulled her pacing frame onto his lap. "What is it, datura?" "Nothing." "She lies," Acat announced, stepping from the kitchen with plates of steaming food ? catered, of course. Her guys cooked about as well as she did.

As I looked at Leopold, I remembered Dickypuss. “I have a cat.” I said it quickly, deliberately glancing at Leopold. This time, he made a flat face. “I don't know who the previous owner was; he just suddenly came to my home. I live with my best friends. At first, we objected to keeping a cat because it requires commitment. But the cat was stubborn. He would rather not leave, so we had to adopt him. He's very lazy; if he doesn't eat, he sleeps. Very demanding. If it's late to feed, it immediately goes berserk. Even though he used to live on the streets, after being adopted, he acted like a prince. That's why we call him Prince Dickypuss.” I looked at Leopold when I said Dickypuss' name to see

I'm not even sure how to describe him. “Where to start, oh gosh. His name was Adam, and he was the definition of tall, dark, and sexy.” I say giving Audrey big eyes, and fanning my face dramatically. “He was very forward, not shy about telling me what he was thinking or what he wanted.” “Oh, I bet not,” she says wiggling her brows and giggling. “I wish you got pictures of these boys, Kat, so we could compare both your options.” I roll my eyes, drinking down the rest of my coffee.

Quiet, intent, like he was trying to solve something he couldn’t quite reach. The clinic helped at first. Animals were useful that way — they demanded presence, attention, practicality. A nervous golden retriever with separation anxiety did not care about emotional complications inside billionaire marriages. Neither did the aggressively offended cat that tried to attack Ada before nine in the morning. “You know,” Ada said while adjusting her gloves, “sometimes I think cats can sense weakness.” “I think this one can sense joy and wants to destroy it.” Ada snorted. For a while the normalcy worked — appointments, medication charts, phone calls, fur everywhere, controlled chaos. I almost relaxed

Elena hugged the cat, turning her face away from him. "You started it. There wasn't a whole litter. Just this one." Luke leaned back against the pergola post. He took out his lighter, spun it once around his fingers, but didn't light it. "One's not enough for you? Greedy." He glanced at her. "This one's a looker. Blue bicolor. Top of the line for Ragdolls. Prettier than all your jewels." Elena lowered her head, her face half-hidden in the cat's fur, her voice muffled.