The White Cat's Divine Scratching Post Novels & Stories

I knew she had probably blocked me again. I returned to the dorm in a daze and stared blankly for a long time at the scratch card I had just exchanged. Finally, I gathered the courage to start scratching. First row, nothing. Second row, nothing either. By the third row, still nothing. By the time I reached the last row, I closed my eyes in resignation and scratched randomly. After a long moment, I opened my trembling eyes. I had won! The prize column read five million dollars!

Mathew POV. "I nu like winter," the baby kitten whines, it's not even winter anymore, most of the hard storms have passed, with her hidden either in my arms or under the bed, or above the fridge, the one thing I never expected to ban or say out loud, you're not allowed to get on top of the fridge. "The winter is almost over, you can go outside to play," I encourage her, first I was trying my best to get her inside the house, but now I'm trying to get her out of the house.

It’s just that, this stung a little more than I would have liked and it was all because of a douche bag I like to call my ex-boyfriend. The keys rattled again; a familiar furry face pushed back the silky white curtain at the front window. My white cat, Christopher meowed, his paw pressing against the glass. “Here, kitty, kitty,” I stepped through the door. I rubbed my fingers together to act like I had a treat. He was no fool, he knew there was nothing and sat on his big fluffy butt until I pet him from his special perch. “You are so spoiled,” I murmured. The house was dark for the time of day it was. Curtains were drawn, low-level lamps with red silk fabric on top of them.

Cara didn't understand what she was feeling and continuously tried to shake the feeling. As she approached her best friend's house the cat dug it's claws into her and meowed in protest of being held. Instinctively, Cara let it go and huffed in frustration of having been scratched by the little thing. Shaking her head in annoyance, she watched as it ran over to the side yard and under a pear tree. Where it promptly sat on it's honches and started licking its front paw. Cara walked over to where it sat to retrieve it before knocking on the door to announce herself.

8. Stranger "Hey there, I hope you're feeling better now." Wynter gently stroked the fur of the beautiful white cat before her. "Olive is doing well at the moment. He's started eating and seems quite occupied with his toys," the woman who brought the cat informed Wynter during the check-up.

Nero whispered under his breath. It was a very cute white little cat. Its eyes have two colors, the left one has the color of the amethyst while the right one has the same color as the sky on a fair-weather day. It has a long, silky, inched-long fur. White as the moon's reflection on a tranquil lake. Nero slowly went out in his hiding. When the other cat saw him, it was stunned for a while as it stared back at him. They started the staring contest. After a while, the white cat initiated the action.

The stopping of time did not affect the divine spirit beast and me. "Isa, you could manipulate the time?" I uttered in surprise. "Huh? Ari, you can move?" Isabella was perplexed. "How could that be?" I chuckled. "I don't know. The white cat in the cage can move as well." I said and looked at the golden-eyed white cat in the small cage. Uh, now that I see it up close, it was actually adorable and fluffy. I wanted to pet it! And what shocked me was the tattoo on its forehead, just like Elle. While Elle's got a flame tattoo, the white cat has a golden-wings tattoo.

We both just make ourselves a bowl of cereal and eat it, and by the time we're done, it's already nine PM. "Come, let's watch telly a bit and then we can go sleep." Theo smiles, but just then a beautiful big cat comes by and I'm sold. "Oh my god, is this yours?" I ask, completely in awe of the fluffy white cat. I stand up and slowly approach it, holding my hand in front of me so that she could sniff it and see I'm not dangerous. "Yeah, that's Snow White." he replies and the kitty scratches her big head against my hand and behins to purr.

have found me so fast. She shoved the thought down. Hard. Across the yard, Jasmine and Kika were locked in a brutal spar. Jasmine—wild cat number 89—was dominating, landing elbow strikes and knee drives that had Kika (101) staggering. Serial stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, shouting critiques. “Too slow, 101! You fight like you’re scared of pain—newsflash, it’s coming anyway!” Jasmine swept Kika’s legs; Kika hit the mat hard. Serial barked a laugh. Then her gaze shifted. Landed on Riley. A slow, predatory smile curled her lips. “Oh look who we have here,” Serial called, loud enough to draw eyes from every corner of the yard. “The runaway wild cat. Quite surprising how out of the