Are you a cat person, ?

This newsletter is full of dogs, but I had always thought I would be the kind of person who had both dogs and cats, just like I did growing up.

My family had Pippin from my earliest memories through when I was in college

So why don't I have any cats now? In high school, I had a period where I suddenly became allergic to Pippin. My parents took me to acupuncture, which seemed to put most of the symptoms at bay. For many years of cat-ness, as long as I kept things clean and cats off my pillows, I was mostly okay.

This is me, the age we had Pippin

Within weeks of graduating from college, my roommate (and best friend) and I had bought our first cat. KC was lively and funny and we all adored her. Within weeks of moving to our long-term home on the west coat, we got a tuxedo cat to join her, Chloe. When we both got married — do different men, but on the same weekend — the cats stayed with me, because my roommate was moving away for grad school.

We had KC and Chloe, and other cats came and went. We raised kittens, twice. (That was quite a story! Ask if you want to hear about our potato-kittens, or our weaponized kittens.) My grandfather died and we moved his cat out to Oregon. We took care of a cat for a friend, who promptly devoured our very first chick when my kids decided to become chicken farmers.

Then, when I was pregnant with our fourth child, my allergies came back. Our own beloved KC and Chloe had passed, and we took in a cat whose elderly owner had passed away. He had been close friends with my mother-in-law, who planned to take the cat eventually. He was not a very happy cat, which I could understand, and terrorized the children, which I had less patience for.

Our house did not have enough bedrooms for our expanding family. One child had significant medical issues. And as I became more and more pregnant, I became more and more allergic to this cat.

If you have ever been in your third trimester and losing the pickleball match with life, you will understand that this was just one cat beyond being able to function. I could not deal with scratched children and itchy eyes and trouble breathing, when I already had an entire human being taking up my lung capacity.

I might have had a little melt-down. At any rate, the cat went back to my mother-in-law, and we haven't had another cat since. If I knew I wouldn't have an allergic reaction, I would probably do it, but I just can't risk bringing a cat into a home where I might not be able to keep him.

So I have to write about cats instead.

Pre-order The Little White Cat

I've included one of my favorite scenes right here in the newsletter, introducing one of my favorite characters.

Here's a cat joke for you! Also, please send me a picture of your favorite cat! Let me know if it's okay to use in a collage for my social media, kind of like this meme (click to see the other pages)...

...and keep reading to meet Bob. He's allergen-free, but a whole lot of trouble....

Chapter Five

I close my bedroom door as Delta and Sigma drop onto the hall floor with matching sighs. My bubbling joy of the morning has faded into muddy, oily, sludge. I tried to make a bargain, and Trencoss bested me in five minutes. I wish I could just bury myself in blankets and drift into unconsciousness, but I am not the kind of woman who goes to bed in the middle of the day. I must hold onto who I am, even if no one who knows me is here.

There isn’t even anything that I am supposed to do. I toss my headdress and shoes aside and sink onto the window seat, sagging onto the wide stone sill. The chill sinks through my linen sleeves.

I catch a snippet of birdsong, but the window dims the sound. I lift my head, shivering, searching for the thrush. I open the pane to look around. Fine droplets blow onto my face, along with the scents of greenery and rain. The oak branches obscure everything but the few yards around my window, soft grass dusted with wildflowers several stories below. 

I find this more comforting than the fine views from other rooms in this vast palace. It’s cozy. With oak leaves rustling around me, I can close my eyes and imagine that Saba and I have escaped from our lessons to explore the forest.  

Acushla and my favorite camps were beneath a tree, too. Our last camp was beneath an old mother willow, a winding river just through the berry bushes. It was so beautiful we thought we might build a house and stay through the winter, but it turned out that we were in the same valley with Trencoss’s castle, and he— I would rather remember last autumn, when I went harvesting in the forest while Acushla hunted partridge, and we had flour and cheese that I had traded in the village before. Well provisioned, we wandered the hills, pausing often to admire the view. We slept together in the sunshine, my head pillowed on his chest, and it did not seem like laziness. It was treasure, each golden moment.

I startle at a squawk and flutter of wings. The branch above my window shakes and spatters, and while I brush the droplets away something thumps on the windowsill.

I leap to my feet, my heart pounding…but it is just a cat.

A white cat, exceptionally fluffy, that is vigorously washing its face.

“Terribly wet out,” it complains. “Makes my fur stick together. Terrible stuff, rain. Terrible!” With that, it licks its chest.

Automatically, I retrieve a small towel from the washstand, but pause just before rubbing the little beast.

“What are you waiting for?” it snaps. “Make yourself useful!”

Those are definitely words. Real words, out loud. I speak to animals all the time, but they do not speak back. 

This is not normal.

Nevertheless, I stroke the cat with the towel, rubbing each foot as he raises them. If talking cats are unexpected, that is all the more reason to be polite.

“I have a hearth, Sir Cat…” I offer, gesturing vaguely. “If you would like to warm yourself…?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the cat replies, hopping down from the windowsill in a sinuous gesture. “Shut the window, now, before any more of that water can blow in!”

Quietly, I close the window and build up the fire, which I had not cared enough to tend for my own sake. I bundle a pillow and blanket on one of the chairs and offer it to my guest, perching on the chair opposite while he makes himself comfortable. I half-bow and offer my formal name, but I am too shy to add all the explanations I gave the dogs this morning.

The cat blinks his wide green eyes. He has a small black patch on his ear, and a larger one on his hind leg, and his fur has dried into a halo of white fluff.

“My name is Bob,” he announces.

“Bob?” I test out the sounds, short and sharp on my tongue. “Bodhbh—badhbh—”

“No, no.” He cocks his head, amused. “Not bay-vuh. Make it simple. Bob.”

I try again, but it feels cut off and rude. “Is that all? So short?” 

“Well….” The cat licks his paw, considering. “The whole thing would be”—he switches to a language that is blunt and prickly—“Come To Dinner, Bob, Ye Gurt Fool.”

I nod. That sounds much more proper. I repeat it back to him until we are both pleased how well I can say all the sounds.

“How did you come by such a fine name?” I ask.

“Well, I am a cat,” Bob answers. “I am always poking my nose through different doorways, and popping out in all kinds of interesting places.”

“The doors through the Veil are intriguing indeed.”

“Precisely. I’ve been through too many to recall. But one of my favorites… ah, what a place to land!” He twitches his tail in delight. “I had a little house to myself, with bags of grain to sleep on and mice going in and out the live-long day. Very pleasant. And there was a woman in the big house, and every evening she would make a fine meal with sausages and rashers of bacon. When it was ready, she would call out that name—‘come to dinner, Bob, ye gurt fool.’”

I nod. That makes sense.

“So I would come racing from the little house, or sleeping in the sun, or whatever I was doing. She’d leave the doors open so I’d come right on in. She was a little silly, and always expected me to be taller, because she was looking up high in the doorway. But once I made some pretty noises, she would remember where I was, and say ‘well, at least one fellow comes when I call, and aren’t you the handsome one?’” 

He pauses, and I sense this is my turn. “And very handsome you are, sir, for sure!”

He swishes his tail and wraps it around his feet. “Precisely. And then she would give me sausage and bacon. Ah! Mm! Ah!” He sighs. “That was the best meal I had, and every night she prepared it just for me! So I decided to keep that name through the rest of my travels, in honor of the best cook I ever met.”

“A fitting tribute, indeed.” I don’t have access to the kitchen, but I’m sure I can save something from my plate in case he returns.

Bob continues on, telling me about meals that he has had in his many adventures. I manage to maintain my half of the conversation, asking how the fish was prepared and whether he prefers duck or pheasant, despite the oddity of the situation. Even when I have been in the Fae realms, I have never had a conversation with an animal! I am not even sure how he speaks, as his mouth does not move like a human.

“This is a pleasant room.” Bob yawns, displaying his little teeth. “And the rumors are true; you are a pleasant girl. I could come back.”

“You are always welcome.” I may not know how to drive a bargain, but I know how to treat a guest, so I rise to arrange another blanket by the hearth. “Would you like a nap, Bob Ye Gurt Fool? I have no food, but I will share—”

“What? No food!” Bob’s tail snaps and swishes.

“I’m sorry, I would give you anything if—”

“But how can you stay in this palace with no food?”

“They bring me a tray here, but take it away again, and I must have dinner downstairs. But I don’t have a kitchen I can go to, or a pitcher of milk…”

“But this is terrible! Don’t you wish for a kitchen?” His tail switches harder.

I bow I head in agreement. “I miss it greatly. In fact”—my emotions rise and the words tumble out—“I don’t wish to be here at all!”

“Why don’t you leave?” Bob glances at the window. “Well, of course you don’t wish to leave just yet. But it will stop raining eventually.”

“I’m not allowed to leave.” I try to hold my feelings in my chest, but tears well in my eyes. “I am supposed to marry Lord Trencoss the day after tomorrow.”

“Will he give you a kitchen?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Pah—no thinking this, thinking that. Has he ever given you a smoked fish? Or a rasher of bacon? One you can keep in your room, I mean, for nibbling at whenever you wish.”

“No...”

“And he doesn’t let you run about in the countryside, and explore different doorways, and meet new people?”

“No!” 

“Then why are you marrying him?”

“Because…he caught me. And he tricked me.”

“Aha!” Bob turns in a circle, then sits very upright with his tail swirled around himself. “Then we must trick him back. Won’t that be entertaining?”

“I suppose.” Freedom is more important to me, but at this rate we have neither. “But I tried, and he out-witted me.”

“Aha!” Bob twitches the tip of his tail. “But now you have me.”

“I am very glad to have you, Bob Ye Gurt Fool.” Although I’m not sure how much good one more small fluffy creature can do, when I have an entire alphabet of dogs, a tree full of birds, and the shrubs full of rabbits and the walls of mice.

Bob blinks. “Tell me about this lord, who has trapped you with no freedom and no smoked eel. Then I will think of all the tricks I have ever played, and choose the best one.”

Although I suppose Bob is a Fae, and can talk with me. He’s more useful than anything else at the moment. I sit back down and describe everything I know about the sorcerer, starting with how he arrived at Fionn’s castle just after Saba disappeared. I tell about how Fionn bargained all of us ladies-in-waiting into engagements, and Bob snorts cat-laughter as I describe the men’s braggadocio.

“How did you escape? You don’t have the smell of someone who knows the Veils.”

“I only understood how they work because of—my friend.” My heart pangs for Saba yet again. 

“So back to this sorcerer fellow. I am highly entertained by your antics; go on.”

I decide that it is better not to say too much about the dogs, but also foolish to lie by default and ignore them. “Trencoss owned a great black wolfhound, who escaped with me. And ever since then, Trencoss has pursued us both, using his sorcerous arts to find us no matter how far we run.” There, that was honest but no more.

Bob purrs to celebrate our escape, head-butting my hand for some pets. After a moment, he pulls back and growls. “Could Trencoss not just find a new dog and a new woman? This is a nice house. If he offered plenty of fish, I’m sure someone would agree to stay here with him.”

“He doesn’t want someone else. He thinks….we are his lost property, and he deserves to fetch us back as he pleases.”

The cat sneezes with disapproval. “I do not care for the sound of this fellow at all. I do not think you should marry him.”

I almost laugh. “I don’t think I should marry him, either. But what else can I do?”

Bob stares into the fire, tail twitching. 

He says nothing at all for a long while, so I fold my hands and wait patiently.

“I am too small,” Bob admits, finally. 

“It’s fine,” I hasten to assure him. “I don’t expect you to be able to help.”

He yowls. “Don’t expect me? Do you think I’m nothing but chopped liver, but less delicious?”

“I—no—”

“I am very useful,” Bobs informs me.

“I am….sure you are.”

“You are not sure at all. You are humoring me. Very well then, I will prove it to you!”

My head is spinning. This is the strangest argument I have ever had—and as the person in charge of staff at two separate castles, I have handled a great many strange arguments.

“I said I was small,” continues Bob, lashing his tail. “Therefore, I will go and fetch someone larger. We must think of what sort of creature is good at dispatching powerful sorcerers.”

“I don’t know, I’m sure!” 

“Then it’s a good thing you have me.”

This is my cue to praise the little white cat, which I do. He extends his head, allowing me to rub behind both his ears, rumbling into a self-satisfied purr. I am tingling with impatience to hear his plans, but keep my demeanor appreciative.

Finally, he goes back to washing his paws. “I will fetch someone, but it might take a little time. Meanwhile, I will show you how useful I can be with my tricks! Just as good as yours, with poisoning the whole castle.”

“I didn’t do much harm,” I add quickly. 

“It was a delightful trick. I only wish I could have been there to watch. Now listen!”

Bob half-leaps, reaching up his front paws to bat at something in the air between us. There is nothing there—but there is! It sparkles blue, larger and brighter the longer he bats at it.

“Do you see this? Could you make something from it?” He holds it out, dangling from one claw.

I take the ball carefully. It fills both my palms, soft and light as feathers, sparkling like candlelight through colored glass.

“Why—yes. It’s yarn, isn’t it? Lightweight but fluffy, two-ply with a light twist.. I could…weave something…” 

“It doesn’t matter what you make.”

“There are always criossana.” Those seem terribly plebeian for such miraculous thread.

“That will do just fine.” Bob licks his jaws. “Tomorrow, you will ask Trencoss for more….” 

He spins his plans while I listen carefully. I must make another bargain, but this time I will do better!

While Bob is explaining, the gray day fades to black, and one of the faceless servants enters with a tray. I tuck the shimmering thread into my skirts, and Bob pretends to be nothing more than a cat washing his face. Once the servant leaves, I offer the best bits off my plate to Ye Gurt Fool, who climbs into my lap and nudges my arms so I can better concentrate on feeding him.

I steady the wine goblet he almost knocks over, smiling to myself. One bite for him, one for me, and we are sharing a plate. Food always seals a bargain.

“You are a good kitten.” Bob sits up and washes his face, pushing me away from my own meal.

I wish I were as carefree as a kitten!

“You have fed me and sheltered me. I will come back, and I will make mischief for that sorcerer of yours. Pah!” Bob leaps off my lap, and I grit my teeth when his claws scrape my thighs. He trots across the room, and I follow. “Open the window. Now then, you have been so good that I will give you a wish, as well. Merely unroll it when you are ready, and your desire will go into the world in a puff of smoke. But first”—he leaps onto the windowsill—“you have to catch it!”

Bob swings one white paw like a feline hurley stick, and bats a little ball—smooth leather with golden stitches. It bounces off the wall onto my dressing table, knocking over a bottle of scent, and I hurry to catch it. Of course he would want to do one more bit of trouble! But as I put out my hands for the ball, it skitters across my fingertips and flies against the other wall. Any normal ball would lose momentum, but this one rolls across my bed, bounces across the floor, and hits the door—which swings open, of all things!

“Watch out!” I call, hearing the scrabbling of enormous paws. “Get the ball!”

“Whoof!” a dog bellows, and by the time I get to the door, five wolfhounds are galumphing up and down the hallway, snapping at the ball, accidentally knocking it away from each other, falling over their own feet. I hesitate in my doorway, wanting to help but knowing one of those tumbles would do me an injury.

“Woof!” They growl and snap, all collapsing on one spot.

“Do you have it?” I hardly dare to hope. One wish—it is already clear in my mind.

“Woof,” Omikron tells me, calmly, his tail wagging slowly.

But the ball rolls between Tau’s legs.

“No!” I cry, lunging forward, but it is already gaining speed as it bounces down the stairs.

Two of the dogs follow, and the other three stand at the top, looking back at me and whining. Tau seems to move forward and jerk back.

“Oh dear, don’t fight your collars for my sake,” I tell them. “I don’t really…” 

Need it, I was going to say. But a tiny face pokes around the cabinet against the far wall, wiggling her whiskers at me while all the dogs are otherwise occupied.

I drop to my knees, extending my hands. “Mouseling friends, will you help me? Please, I do want that ball.”

Three more sets of beady eyes appear, squeak, and vanish again. 

“Thank you!” I call after them. “I am sure you will find it, too!”

I return to my tray, fetching the last crusts to crumble and toss under the cabinet, where the dogs’ big noses cannot reach.

All the while, the cat is laughing and laughing. “I was right! You are so entertaining!”

I do not reply. I will thank him if he becomes useful, but just now I am a little annoyed with Bob Ye Gurt Fool.

I can't wait to read more about Bob the Cat