As you may know (if you’ve recently browsed my Upcoming Releases page), I’m currently writing the second edition of my first ever self-published book, Cats Alone. It’s a middle-grade fiction animal story, about family, unity and staying together through a crisis. A Tribe of cats are abandoned by their old owner, Joseph, and faithfully wait for him to come back, with plenty of hijinks, arguments and lessons learned along the way. Interested? Well, a little excerpt is available below, so read through and see if you’re excited for the release!
Cats Alone – Excerpt From Chapter One
“I’m going out! Be back inna, back inna bit!”
Twitching my tail, I leap up once, twice, three times, climbing a dusty bookshelf by following old pawprints. Pressing my whiskered face against the glass, I watch Joseph shuffle away. His head is bent over and he’s wearing the big coat that he always wears when he goes out. We’re alone, alright.
I pause for a few moments, until our old owner turns at the end of the garden path, littered with old newspapers and tin cans. Satisfied, I make my way back down to the floor, my paws meeting plastic and greasy paper. This house… it’s not the best, and I can admit that. Joseph isn’t one for cleaning—but he’s old! He’s too old to be scurrying here and there with a broom or making who-knows-how-many trips out to the bins. It’s not his fault.
But it’s not ours either. Padding over to the armchair, the centre of our world, I find my tribe, settled in their normal places. Ruby, a stark ginger queen (or female cat), looks up from one arm and tilts her head to the side. Her shadow, Sapphire (same colour, same copper eyes) is perched on the other arm, maybe asleep, maybe awake. That’s her attitude: aloof, confusing, quiet. You’ll never know what she’s thinking unless she tells you.
And between them, curled up on the seat? That’s my Sophia. Well, she isn’t mine, but I protect her because of… a long story, to put it a short way. She’s a sweet little kitten, snow-white, with large, round eyes you could get lost in. I’ve seen my fair share of kittens, but none of them were like Sophia.
“Where’s he gone?” Ruby speaks first, getting up and stretching a little, her eyes staying on me. “To the shop?”
“No bags.” Shaking my head, I jump up, nuzzling the dozing Sophia before continuing to the back of the armchair: my spot. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“Can’t be a walk. He’s still in the cupboard.” Gesturing towards the kitchen door, hanging a little off its hinges, she lay down again, looking up at me. I can’t work out the look in her eyes, but previous conversations tell me it isn’t happy. It never is when we talk about him. “Shadow, is he ever going to get rid of it?”
“He’s not an it—”
I try to argue, but sudden barking from the kitchen interrupts me. Typical. Ruby sends me an annoyed look, but Sophia catches my attention. Moving about a little, her two innocent eyes open, both kitten-blue, and she looks around, afraid.
Getting up, I climb down and let her snuggle into my dark, shaggy coat, her little paws pressing on my chest. Any sort of point I try to make now, in defence of him, will just be redundant, but I’m happy with Sophia being comfortable and safe. Arguments with Ruby push themselves to the back of my mind, letting responsibility take over.
The barking stops almost as abruptly as it began, and we find ourselves in a comfortable quiet. The house creaks a little, and a stray gust of wind whistles through the hall, as Sophia closes her eyes for another nap. The twins—we call them twins because they’re from the same litter, and look extremely similar—are talking silently, in tail twitches, ear movements and blinks; it’s a language I’ll never understand. This is our normal. Lounging in the dirty house that has become our home, wondering what will be done about him and sleeping the days away.
Oskar Leonard 