Cattification: Falling from the Light by Regan Summers

Step one: go admire Regan Summers’ soon to be released book in the Night Runners series, Falling from the Light.

Step two: see how we cattified and repaired this poor book. We can’t force authors to write about cats to make their stories more interesting, but we can give suggestions!



Phoenix, AZ

All Sydney Milkmouth wants is a night in the slow lane, a quiet, peaceful night where she sleeps eight whole hours without being interrupted. Not by loud noises, not from having her head pounced on, not due to needle-sharp teeth in her feet, nothing. She needs some time to decide how she’s going to handle her feline owner, Malcolm Kitty, who seems to be nocturnal. But after being woken six times last might by Malcolm’s nightly running amuck, she can’t think straight. This puts her at the mercy of the smelly yet influential Doggy Bronco who’s trying to take over her neighborhood and change all the cat people into dog people. He isn’t above blackmailing his former owner, Sydney, to get what he wants. He threatens to tell Malcolm that Sydney has — horror of horrors — been petting dogs at the local dog park on her lunch break! In fact, she actually pet Doggy Bronco the other day and asked his kind of dumb new human owners how he was doing, to which they replied, “Fine.”

With Malcolm set on viciously killing her sleep because that’s when he likes to party, Syd is forced to consider changing jobs to something with a night shift instead of her daily route with a pharmaceutical company. That is until she finds out her company is responsible for a creating drug that turns cat lovers into dog lovers who are allergic to cats. She’s unprepared and alone and very very tired, but fiercely determined. If her investigation into the drug is discovered by Doggy Bronco — and if anyone uses her to test it — her beloved Malcolm will pay the price since she’ll probably get a dog. A wrong turn throws her into the middle of a doggie butt sniffing party…and they’re leaving the stench of pooch butts on her person. Caught between Malcolm finding out about her sympathetic dog petting and her sanity due to lack of sleep, she’ll have to decide what’s more important: love of Malcolm, sleep, or making sure the canine conversion drug doesn’t hit the market. But choosing what feels right might turn out all wrong.



Meankitty & Jody W. *

Cattification: Catsassin’s Heart by Isabelly Norse

Assassin’s Heart by Isabella Norse is a fantasy novel complete with adventure, killing, romance, palace intrigue and international diplomacy, probably. However, it was sadly lacking in feline content, so today we have repaired that issue. First, go see the human version at Isabella’s website. It’s important to do that.

Now, you can see our renovation!



Assassin's Hearti

Lillie is a catsassin. What’s a catsassin, you ask? It’s a human who is rightfully compelled to sneak around killing people who need killing because they were bad to cats. This bears little relation to a cat burglar, who neither steals cats nor is a cat. Anyway.

Being a catsassin is not exactly the life she would have chosen, but she has made the best of it. Until now. Disguised as a servant at the palace, she waits for an opportunity to kill the heir to the throne who purportedly was witnessed throwing a bag of kittens into a lake. She didn’t see it herself, but the dog who offered her the money, well, he was convincing, and he didn’t try to sniff her butt one single time. Her conscience tells her that killing a possibly innocent human is wrong, but failure to do so will mean her death because the dog will reveal to all and sundry that she is a legendary catsassin. And also it kind of bugs her to accept money from a dog, but hey, money. Usually she does her job because of the compulsion to right the wrongs against catkind, but the money was a nice change of pace.

Nef, a handsome stable hand, is intrigued by the young red-haired maid who has charmed the animals in his care. Mostly the cats, who keep coming to her with complaints and dead mice and birds as payment. And then people who make the cats’ lives a misery start disappearing, and the beautiful yet mysterious maid always seems to be unaccounted for at the time of death. Nef longs to know her better but harbors secrets of his own – secrets that could rock the very foundations of the kingdom.

When Lillie’s catsassiny ways are revealed by the same sly dog who paid her, Lillie and Nef must work together to find a way to save themselves, their budding love, all the stable cats, the large collection of milk jug lids and stuffed mice under the couch, the laser pointer, the can opener, and two thrones from destruction at the hands of an evil overdog.

Jody Wallace & Meankitty
Author, Cat Person, Amigurumist of the Apocalypse *

Cattification: Scars on the Surface by Katt Willoughby

So. Cattification time! Today Meankitty is fixing a sports romance novel by Kate Willoughby about hockey players. Go check out the boring human version FIRST and then come back here!


Book One of In the Cat Zone


NDL (National Dog League) player Dim Ballander lost his canine-like temper one time and threw a dog bone at a poor, unsuspecting audience member who simply suggested that a cat could easily have made the shot that Dim screwed up. After “Bonegate,” he’s traded to the San Diego Cattycudas, a whole other league (National Cat League), where he’ll need to keep the canine behavior and butt sniffing to a minimum while proving he has the chops to compete with the feline-friendly guys on the ice.

Erin Calico is a veterinary mascot cat who’s never seen a cat or dog league game, but gets in line for Dim’s autograph at a PR event in hopes of impressing the human she has her eyes on as a suitable target for her upkeep and maintenance, aka kitty butler. Surely this human with its big, pet-less house and sunny windows and soft carpets will see her and take her in? She’s so fuzzy! And yellow! When an obnoxious dog and his human get sniffy and try to hump the leg of Erin, Dim rushes to defend the pretty kitty from dog germs, throwing a punch in the process.

Grateful for the rescue, Erin agrees to wind around Dim’s legs and headbutt him occasionally during the resulting press conference. She also agrees to accompany him to a vet hospital charity event. She can’t help but notice he has big, cat baller hands, and they’re really really good at chin scritching and can opening. Their chemistry is palpable, and soon their lives are intertwined. Soon Erin begins to wonder if that other human is really the best choice for butler. But Erin doubts a former dog-league player is capable of anything resembling a real relationship. What if he leaves town a lot? What if he forgets to clean the litterbox? Or feed her? What if he objects to cat hair in everything he owns? And, horrors, what if he wants a DOG?

If Tim can’t see beyond what’s on the surface, they’ll never last longer than it takes Erin to scratch the heck out of him and flounce away.


It’s purrrrrfect now, isn’t it?

Jody Wallace & Meankitty

Author, Cat Person, Amigurumist of the Apocalypse *

Cattification: Meowder Comes Ashore by Julie Anne Lindsey

A book that takes place on an island…about humans being murdered. Clearly Meankitty owes it to the very nice human who contacted her, Julie Anne Lindsey, to show her an example of how cats make every book better! First check out the original, catless version of the book Murder Comes Ashore. Then feast your eyes on this…

Persian Price is just settling into her new life as resident counselor on the all-feline Cattietigg Island when things take a sudden turn for the canine. A collection of dog squeaky toys and empty cat food cans have washed up on shore, and suddenly nothing feels safe on the quaint island. Somebody is eating all the best food…and possibly preparing to turn this kitty-only paradise into a dog park!

Persian instinctively turns to current earlicking crush and FBI (Feline Bureau of Investigation) special agent Sebastian TomJerry for help, but former flame Abyssinian is also on the case, hoping that solving the grody canine crime will land him free tuna for life in the upcoming mayoral election.

When the empty can count rises and dogs are being spotted in all sorts of places on the island, all the cats are stressed and coming to Persian for counseling and help. Then Persian’s human staff members are brought in as suspects for who might be dogging up the island. Could her can opening human and her typist really be sabotaging Cattietigg? Or have they been framed?

Because she fears her can opening human will be taken from her, Persian is spurred to begin her own investigation. It’s not long before she starts receiving terrifying threats from a secret dog lover group as well as visits from a smelly stray pooch by the name of Bosco. Though she’s determined to clear her humans’ name, it seems the closer Persian gets to finding answers, the closer she comes to being the dog lover’s next victim.

And if she can’t stop the canine guerilla group, she’ll have to live on the same island…and in the same house…with DOGS.


You’re welcome.

Meankitty & Human Typist *

Cat pictured: Abbott from Angela Campbell’s On The Scent.

Cattification: Ravensblood by Shawna Reppert

The book Ravensblood by Shawna Reppert was released in December 2013. It’s about humans who like ravens. Now, I don’t think the eat the ravens, which was kind of a disappointment to discover, because ravens seem like they might be pretty meaty. Thus we have undertaken the project of making this book more tempting to readers and cats with a little cattification action.
As always, with our cattifications, we urge you to inspect the original before savoring the delights of the claw job we have done on this author’s cover and blurb…

In a life of limited food choices when sometimes dry kibble is the best you can get, can a dark house cat oust the neighborhood dog and save the world?

Catwyn Ravenscoffed. (Likes: eating, string, sometimes eating string, and catnip. Hates: dogs, being wet, not getting to go outside) The last heir of an ancient pride of dark cats, he holds the secret to recreating the Ravensbreast, a legendary magical recipe of immense deliciousness.

Hissandra Greensfur (Likes: yowling at the moon, hunting mice, taunting indoor cats. Hates: dogs, being wet, having to live inside) is a Guardian of the Yard. Magical law enforcement for the elected feline council—and Catwyn’s former housemate and lover. She is trying to live down her embarrassing past of being a housecat. And then her past comes to the yard, asking for her to move back indoors.

As a youth, Catwyn wanted to be a Guardian of the Yard but was rejected because of his declawed status and allergy to flea medication, necessitating his being kept indoors at all times. In his pride and his anger, he had turned to Willhound, the darkest and most powerful dog mage of their neighborhood. Willhound wants a return to the old ways, where the most powerful dog was ruler absolute—even over cats! And certainly over the best bits of tuna and meat. But Willhound would not be a halfway-decent dog from the fairy tales where dogs and cats got along. He would reign in barking and fleas and eating all the best stuff, but also carrion, which he would roll in and bring home on his fur, and that’s totally gross.

Catwyn discovers that he does have a conscience—and a longing to keep the tuna for himself. It’s rather inconvenient, since he knows that damned hog Willhound is not going to share. He becomes a spy for the cat council that Willhound wants to overthrow, with Guardian of the Yard Hissandra as his contact.

Their secret meetings through the glass back door must be kept secret from the beastly Willound. Hiss and Catwyn form a plan to trap the drooling dog outside his warded back yard that has one of those invisible shock fences…never to return. Then they can get down to the business of catching a raven and delicately poaching it for magical good tastes.

But Willhound is one step ahead of the cats, with Catwyn’s life, his tuna, and the secret recipe of Ravensbreast all in danger.


Meankitty & the Human Who Types *

Cattification: Ruby’s Ghost by Shona Husk

Author Shona Husk, at, writes books about humans who don’t wear actual shirts. At least, judging by their covers. Hey, I’m a cat, I get to use whatever criteria I want! In May 2013, she released a book that had much more clothed people in it, but unfortunately it was pretty much devoid of felines. We have rectified this sad situation for her with the following cattification.

Note: To get the most out of the transformation, check out the catless Ruby’s Ghost first: The excerpt we repaired is the first chapter of the book…

Refusing the “call to cat love” is hard to survive…

One moment, Tate Dogger is callously taking a stray kitty to the animal shelter on his motorcycle. The next, he has been punished by the Cats of Fate, his soul suspended between life and death, wandering in confusion between the shelter and the house he should have let the cat live in.

Except it’s not his home anymore. In his old bedroom sleeps a beautiful young white kitty, the only animal who can see him. And the only animal who can keep him from succumbing to the urge to slip helplessly into DOG purgatory, a place full of drool and fleas and honching and bad smells, which would cause horrific pain in his mortal body.

Siamese Jones should be studying for her Society of House Cat exams, but it’s tough to stay focused when a lost human soul keeps appearing in her room. She figures it must have something to do with the dogs she heard barking in the night, but she’s not sure a dog person is worth saving.

As Siamese tries to help Tate unravel the tangled yarn leading up to his decision not to adopt the stray kitty, his longing and desire to have another chance at a mortal, cat-person life grows into an almost tangible bond between them. But then a second spirit appears, a hairy, noisy one with a darker, very canine intent that could separate them before Tate learns the true error of his ways…

Warning: Contains a vengeful dog spirit and the shining realization of feline worship that crosses the boundary between life and death.


Chapter One

“Meow meow me row!” The stray kitty Tate Dogger had decided to take to the animal shelter took a swipe at his cherry red sleeve and leaned forward to hiss at him.

Tate turned his arm away and the cat’s claws connected with his hand instead. The cat was mean. One too many nights on the street. The same cat he used to see at the high school. Trouble was, he wasn’t at the high school anymore. So why had this cat shown up in the neighborhood?

“Kitty, I think you need to settle down.” Tate eased its claw out of his hand.

“Mrrrrr.” The cat withdrew, her claws stained red.

He looked around the room. The cat had followed him to this party. Half the people he didn’t know, the other half were his friends by default because they also owned dogs and hung at the local dog park. He winced. They had all been friends once, but in the last year he’d realized two things. They’d gotten more dogs and he hadn’t, and he didn’t want to spend his weekend picking up poop and taking the dogs for never-ending walks when he had assignments to do and projects to complete. At first the drift away from the dog park group had been accidental because he’d been down to a single dog, but now it was more deliberate.

I mean, just the smells on their clothing was enough to drive you mad, but the conversation! So boring. Pepe did this, Barney fetched a ball, Kiki is so cute.

And now this cat seemed to be trying to adopt him. What was this cat thinking?

Tate shook his head. “I’m done with you, kitty.” He was done with this, all of it. He glanced at the cat and realized she was actually quite pretty. That hurt to even think, since he was a dog person and all, but his heart hadn’t been in the relationship with his Cairn Terrier for months.

“Mew.” The cat head-butted his hand, her nose cold but not as slimy as a dog nose. He let his fingers slide over her silky fur. The cat hadn’t changed. She was still the same calico he’d seen around the high school. She was purring at him now, her tail curling as she beckoned him to take her home with him and ditch this party of dog lovers forever. And in truth, he no longer felt the crazed fanaticism to own lots of dogs the way he once had. He was going through the motions and that wasn’t fair to him or his Terrier, Chowder Head, who was lonely for other canine companionship.

But that didn’t mean he could adopt this cat!

The cat’s tongue was rough when she licked him. Instead of saying what he felt—that he wished he could take her home with him—he mumbled out an excuse. “I have a dog, kitty. I can’t have a cat too.”

The kitty sat down, her soft tail curling around her front paws. “Mew?”

Petting the calico was fine when he was seventeen or eighteen, on the way home from school, and didn’t want his dog to know he was out cheating with a kitty—though he was sure in hindsight his dog knew more than he’d let on.

“I have poop detail every single day. I can’t add a cat box and cat food and who knows what else to my responsibilities.” And then a summer job, then one more year to go and he’d be a qualified mechanical engineer.


He’d heard that from her many times. She didn’t like it when he walked away at the end of the school day, but this kitty didn’t understand. He had to get home to the dog or the dog would pee on everything. Stupid dog. Lately he’d been seeing the kitty on his front porch, too, and then at his back door, like it was making a loop. He couldn’t do it anymore, ignore her pitiful mews, but he didn’t know how to break up with a cat whom he’d secretly loved and wanted to take home since he was fifteen. But he and Chowder Head had been together for too long for it to be easy and painless to bring a feline into a dog house.

The music went up and all his friends started pretending to be their dogs and howling and barking along with it. Because who doesn’t love Maroon 5, bow-wow style? Tate had been the only one out of all his friends to go to college. A few had joined the defense force; most had drifted into full-time positions at the shops they’d worked in through high school. All they cared about was making sure they had a lot of time to spend at the dog park and getting a big enough yard. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to be tied down like that. He wanted to do other things first.

The kitty meowed something at him he couldn’t hear over the barking music.

He leaned in to speak in her ear. “Why don’t you come with me, kitty? I’m finally going to take you where you belong.”

And she did. And she’d be fine. This wasn’t the first dog barking party he’d left early, though it wasn’t usually to take a kitty to the animal shelter. Even as he thought it, he resented the fact that he couldn’t just keep this kitty. Why did Chowder Head have to be such a…dog? Everytime he left the house, there was a fight about how he shouldn’t have left Chowder Head home alone, and that he didn’t really love the dog, and that he deserved to have all his shoes chewed up, and O BOW WOW DO YOU SMELL LIKE CAT??? The list of Tate’s faults just went on. Then he’d apologize, and clean up the mess, and take Chowder Head for a walk, and everything would be sweet until next time.

He didn’t want a next time.

He touched the cat’s soft calico fur, then her cheek. The kitty was right about one thing. She didn’t need to be living on the street. “I’m sorry, kitty.”

Tate walked away to find something to use as a cat carrier. He pulled his helmet and jacket out of the hall cupboard, where he’d hidden them from those who would let their dogs chew them up. In the bottom of the closet he found a milk crate and some cardboard. Everyone just howled and barked and talked about milk bones and ignored both him and the cat. He gave the party another hour before the neighbors called the police. He affixed the milk crate to the back of the motorcycle so it would be safe and put on his jacket.

“Mew, mew.” The kitty came running out the house. She reached the bike, tail twitching. “Mrow?”

So, she wasn’t onto his plan yet to take her to the shelter. He stared at her tiny body on the leafy ground beside his bike.

“Mew?” She sounded worried, as if she knew something was different somehow.

He eased himself off the motorcycle. Once all he’d wanted was to have a lot of dogs and to believe they’d be together forever. He glanced at the house and the people barking along to the radio. Chewed up couches and leashes and other doggy detritus lined the porch. This wasn’t the life he wanted. “I’m sorry.”

The kitty put her paw on his foot. “Purr.”

He had to do it, grab her and get her in the crate. She’d be angry and hurt, but she’d realize they were better off apart. She’d be happier with someone else…someone who didn’t have a dog. And so would he.

The ache was back, pressing on his heart. He’d been with Chowder Head for so long…but he couldn’t help it. He secretly loved this cat. Had he ignored his civic duty to make sure kitty was taken safely to a no-kill animal shelter out of fear? Because he loved seeing her every day, even if she wasn’t in his house? He couldn’t be what she wanted. A cat person. He already had a dog. If he were, she and Chowder Head could never get along, and she would get pissed with him for having a dog instead of taking the dog to the animal shelter instead.

He’d heard of people having both dogs and cats. He just didn’t think he could be one of them.

He took a breath but couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s over. We’ve both known it for a while.”
But neither of them had wanted to be the first one to say it.

“Mewwww.” Her body brushed against his leg. She lowered her head and began to clean her ears with her little white paw in a way that threatened to bring him to his knees.

He placed his hand on her shoulders. He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d be careful. The animal shelter would take good care of her, find her a loving cat family.

Tate closed his eyes and swallowed. This was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t want to hurt her. Carefully he lifted her purring, soft body into the crate and strapped on a lid.

She did not like it. She howled and let him know. He winced with sadness. He zipped up his jacket and pushed on his helmet. Each move was slow and determined. He wouldn’t let himself be meowed around. Yet he couldn’t take off and leave her standing on the driveway, living on the dangerous streets for one more night.

He would drop her at the shelter, go back to his home with Chowder Head, and sleep, and then he’d ring the shelter tomorrow—just to check—just to hear about the beautiful beloved calico for the last time. The cat would be much happier with a man who was happy to have cats, not dogs, and take care of the kitty for the rest of his life.

He wasn’t that man.

The bike thrummed to life beneath him. Black and chrome. Secondhand and the best bike he could afford. The cat howled at first, until she realized he wasn’t going to let her out of the crate. He’d rather be doing this in a car, but a bike it was. The income from his part-time job didn’t stretch that far. It barely covered Chowder Head’s food and flea meds.

The cat managed to get her paw through a hole and scratch his side. He carefully put her paw back, safe, and waited while she calmed down behind him. He was going to miss her.

Was he making a mistake? He’d worried about the cat on the streets for so long, maybe this was just how it was. But missing her was different than expecting Chowder Head to accept her. He eased the bike down the driveway. The cat wriggled behind him, making the bike sway.

“Hold on, kitty.” He checked the street and waited in the driveway as a white SUV raced past. Someone’s new car was getting test driven by everyone at the party. He’d had a look at it earlier in the night. It was flash, leather seats and sunroof. The owner’s dog would tear the hell out of those flash seats soon enough. Pity the owner wasn’t smart enough to get seat covers. The insurance wouldn’t cover damage from a dog. He let it roar by then turned onto the road and went the opposite way.

This was the neighborhood he’d grown up in. He indicated, checked the intersection and noted headlights coming up the road. It was his right of way, so he started slipping around the corner.

Halfway round he realized the car’s headlights were moving too quickly to stop at the sign. They were going to run the stop sign and go straight through the intersection. They were going to hit him…and the cat! The precious kitty he loved so much. Panic kicked hard. He had to get clear. Save the kitty. He didn’t care about himself!

He gunned the bike through the intersection, but it was too late. The SUV was too fast and too close.

His world shattered in the crunch and scream of metal. The cat meowed in a very angry fashion.

Then there was no bike. No cat. Adrenaline squeezed his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He was in the air. There were lights everywhere. Spinning. Was he close enough to the shelter that somebody would save the cat? He hit the ground on his side and slid—there was nothing he could do. He came to a stop. Pain flooded his body. He had to get up. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be at home, miraculously with a cat on one side and a dog on the other. He wanted…he wanted cats and dogs both.

He sighed and closed his eyes. The lights were too bright.


Meankitty & Jody W.  *  

Cattification of Ten Days by Olivia Mayfield

In a spurt of industriousness, the human thought it would be fun to participate in a big BOOK COVER reveal for an SF-YA romance called “Ten Days” by Olivia Mayfield. I agreed to let the human do this, but only if it was properly CATTIFIED. So feast your eyes on…


Ten Dogs by Olivia Mayfield (
Publication date: May 2013

Seventeen-month-old Catty isn’t like the others. In her society, the Tuna Machine caters to every kitty whim, ensuring cats don’t have to leave their snuggle boxes. Not even for a scratch and a crazed run from room to room for no reason. Or barking at birds from the window. Or climbing to a high place and threatening to jump on people.

But Catty and her best friend Mouser find themselves drawn to how things used to be, when cats lived on the surface of the earth and subjugated humans to their will, instead of this technology. When heavy petting and ear lickings weren’t uncivilized, and love was normal, acceptable, cuddled. Catty tries to purr over her increasing dissatisfaction with the “rules,” as well as her rapidly developing feelings for Mouser, a task getting harder each day.

Then, things start going downhill, fast. Tuna and treats are spoiled. Air grows musty and smells of other animals. The kitty population panics about the dysfunction–is it canine sabotage? Anarchy? But Catty and Mouser discover the truth: The Tuna Machine, the answer to all feline problems for longer than anyone can remember, was built by a team of DOGS. Naturally it is now breaking down. Now, these two sly, young cats have to risk it all to save themselves and the kitties they care about…before their entire world goes to the dogs, who have been slavering at the gates of kitty box paradise for years.

Ten Dogs proves once and for all—cats love to hide in boxes, but they love their freedom better.

Find out more about the actual book and its actual, much less poorly warped cover at Goodreads:



Meankitty & Jody W (Typist) *

Cattification: Pretty-Kitty of the Nile

Originally posted at the author’s blog: and being added here so it will show up in the cattification directory!

For the original story and blurb:
To find out more about Pretty Kitty:

Drawn to her abandoned temple on the banks of the Nile by an enchanting odor like tuna and cheese combined, Pretty-Kitty the Cattian goddess is even more cat-tivated by the sight of the can opener herself…and her TWO opposable thumbs. Appearing to the human as an absolutely divine housecat, Pretty-Kitty learns the human is Mewys, a descendant of her last can-opening priestess. Though filled with hunger, Pretty-Kitty believes Mewys deserves to be more than just a can opener. Perhaps even…a back scratcher. Or a best spot on the couch butt warmer. Or perhaps even a door opener/closer/opener/closer. But the rules that govern the Cattian pantheon forbid anything beyond a food-oriented relationship between a Great One and a human.

Mewys is attracted to the incredibly beautiful housecat, who arouses devotion in her that no human or animal ever has. Especially those perfect little white paws and long, elegant whiskers. But with a limited number of cheese cubes and no hope of ever leaving her village to get more, she dares not dream of a relationship once the cheese and tuna are gone—or love.

Pretty-Kitty takes every opportunity to visit Mewys and snarf up the chow, taxing her resolve to make Mewys to stick to preparing fish. And when she jumps into Mewys’s lap, their mutual desire to pet and be petted must be sated. But can love between a human and a Great One survive the ultimate test of the evil crocodogs?


Chapter One:

The old abandoned temple with the awesome sunspots remained one of her favorite places along the Nile, overlooking the river from a small bluff, with a deserted beach below. Pretty-Kitty (the prettiest Cattien Goddess) stood gazing across the disgustingly wet water at bronze- and black-spotted evil crocodogs panting in the final rays of the setting sun. A breathtaking mix of colors stained the sky as a lesser Cattien Goddess, Nuit, spread her cloak across the heavens, sprinkling the black velvet with star-like laser pointer dots.

A tantalizing odor rose from the beach below the bluff. Pretty-Kitty recognized the scent of a familiar cat treat, tuna, given new meaning by the hypnotizing addition of cheeeeeeeeese.

Pretty-Kitty licked her lips. I must see the source of this odor. It’s cast some kind of spell over me.

She strolled along the path from the ruins toward the beach. After pausing to chase a leaf, lick her butt and take a quick nap, she took the last turn on the trail and walked out on the sand to find the source of the odor. It was a human woman. She waded in the water, casting a small fishing net and retrieving it, every once in a while picking out a wriggling silver fish and throwing it into a waiting basket on the beach.

Her opposable thumbs flashed into view when she raised her hands. She had kilted her skirt to her thighs, revealing legs that would show claw marks well. Long ebony hair practically made for attacking was caught behind her ears with combs in the shape of seashells.

Wouldn’t I like to take those combs out and see her hair tumble down—so I could leap on it?

Pretty-Kitty must have made some sound. The woman stopped catching fish and wheeled, taking an involuntary step deeper into the river at the sight of Pretty-Kitty’s 8 lbs of magnificence. Her face paled under her tan and her eyes opened wide as she staggered, caught by an eddy of the current.

“Meow. Mrow!” Pretty-Kitty licked one paw, claws out, and purred. “Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

The woman laid one hand on her throat, toying with an amulet on a thong that would be better served as a chasing-string. “You startled me, kitty.” Poised to bolt, the woman appeared wary, probably planning an attempt to run past Pretty-Kitty.

“Mew?” Pretty-Kitty kicked sand off a back foot and ambled to the basket of fish for a sniff. The net drifted lazily in a whirlpool; the human reached out and caught it, lifting the tangled strands from the river.

“Oh, I see! You want some fine tuna, kitty.” She came to the bank hastily and emptied the net into the basket. “The river runs muddy at this time of the year. Some of these fish might not taste good until I filet them and add the cheese.”

Pretty-Kitty glanced at the fish. Oh yes, I can see they aren’t yet suited for a noblecat. She followed the woman to the prep area, well out of reach since the clumsy two-legger splashed through tiny waves with her net. “Mrah. Meow.”

While waiting for the woman to clean her a fish, Pretty-Kitty frowned at the Nile crocodogs lying deceptively immobile on the opposite bank, then glanced at the human. “Hissssss.”

One of the animals twitched. Pretty-Kitty glared at it. The creature met her eyes for a second, a strand of gross drool hanging from its mouth, then settled onto the sand.

“Oh, I’m not afraid. I’m protected.” The human was busy folding the net and packing it into a compartment in the lid of her fish creel. She didn’t even spare a moment to consider the stinky canine predators across the water.

Pretty-Kitty hacked up a hairball to cover her instinctive laugh. “Hork, hork, hork.” SPLORCH.

The two-legger stood briskly, raised her chin and tugged the amulet free of her dress. It was a small green stone crocodog hanging on a frayed black leather thong. “My great-grandmother was the last can-opening priestess of the temple on the bluff above.”

Pretty-Kitty’s whiskers twitched. She wanted the amulet. “Meow?”

The girl unlooped the cord from her neck and dangled it up and down. “Great-Grandmother told me the amulet was blessed by the Crocodog God himself and would protect me from the creatures.”

Crocodog’s blessing was as reliable as the idiot himself, which is to say, not. Nor was that his temple, as his temple was more of a small structure in a back yard with a peaked roof and… Okay, it was a doghouse. Had Great-Grandmother already been senile when she’d told everyone she’d been a can opener for that mutt Crocodog?

Pretty-Kitty batted at the amulet, whacking the tiny figurine with her perfect, white paw. “Mew.” She momentarily hooked the pendant in her claws, then ceased to acknowledge its existence.

When the human refastened the amulet, the stone pendant fell between her nap-worthy breasts. She unkilted her skirts and the simple dress fell to her ankles. As she bent to lift her basket of fish, Pretty-Kitty put a paw hand atop her fingers on the handle. She gave Pretty-Kitty a wide-eyed glance but stepped aside to let her sniff the fish some more.

“Take your time, kitty. I’m going to sit in the shade and eat my dinner now.” She pointed at the nearby grove of palms. “Would you care to join me?”


She peeked back at Pretty-Kitty while she walked. Eventually she smiled shyly. “I’m grateful for the company. My name is Mewys.” She stood nearly as tall as a tree, unusual in a female, but Pretty-Kitty found it distinctly attractive. That meant the two-legger could reach more stuff. Her face was lovely, a little feline and browned by the sun, which set off her sparkling black eyes. She was all soft curves made for laying upon and smooth skin made for kneading—Pretty-Kitty’s paws stirred with eagerness but she restrained herself.

She seems to be an innocent maiden, with no dog smell despite her stupid reliance on Crocodog’s amulet, of good family by her educated speech, not a woman to be lightly trifled with for an afternoon. Pretty-Kitty should snag a fish and leave, but….

She realized she was standing rooted to one spot without even inspecting the fish, lost in admiration of what the woman’s lap would feel like. Shaking her head, she started sniffing again. “Mewwwwww.”

“You are very choosy for a cat who has come to this place, which is known more for the Crocodog God.” Mewys slanted a look at her sideways and chuckled. “Is your person a merchant? Is your ship anchored somewhere nearby?” Not waiting for an answer, she sank bonelessly under the tallest palm. Lifting a shawl that lay draped there across some wicker hampers, she pulled out a hard roll filled with meat and cheese.

Ahhhhh. So that was the source of the odor. Pretty-Kitty deserted the stinking fish creel on the sand and found a spot to sit safely in the shade. She lowered herself into sitting position and sharpened her claws on the tree, tail whipping around behind her. The meat on that roll smelled much better than the raw fish! “Purrrrrrrrrr.”

Mewys blinked and raised her eyebrows, clearly not understanding. What did you expect from a human who wore a Crocodog necklace? Pretty-Kitty hadn’t precisely demanded the meat off the roll, but it appeared she might have to.

“Did you come to see the temple ruins?” Mewys asked.

Pretty-Kitty crouched and readied herself. The pounce took her as far as she needed to go–right onto Mewys’s lunch.



Meankitty & Jody “Typist” Wallace *

Cattification: Feeding the Van Cat

Feeding the Van Cat

(Original post at author’s site:, original cover and blurb for comparison:

Through good luck despite her canine leanings, Misty has survived the earthquakes that have torn the world apart, but has no skills to speak of. Or so she thinks. She does have opposable thumbs, and someone must feed the Turkish Van cat who has offered to let her pet his silky, water-resistant fur, and possibly save civilization as we know it, in exchange for sustenance.

Feeding Ivan is a priority, and Misty finally serves a purpose. Prior to Ivan, she’d actually imagined herself…a DOG person. But when she awakens in Ivan’s spot in the bed, beside a rodent gift from the townsfolk on her pillow, she discovers he has hungers other than canned Fancy Feast. Hungers he expects her to satisfy, since catching mice is beneath him. Today. Unless he’s in the mood. Which he isn’t, so could she please arrange for that?

Under Ivan’s red-eyed, sharp-clawed persuasion, Misty discovers she has the power to set “Have-a-Heart” traps in hallways, in the pantry, or even under the fridge, and not squeal like a big, silly dog when she discovers a mouse in the trap, awaiting Ivan’s pleasure.


Feeding the Van Cat: Corrected & Cattified Excerpt:

I was compelled to feed him. I had no choice, really. He was so beautiful.

Earl cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Our town administrator looked around for agreement, but they weren’t meeting his eyes either. Like kids ducking the teacher’s gaze. “Whatever, Misty. We’re all SO happy you get to be.” He trailed off in a sulk.

A cat servant? Surely no one wanted to be reminded of what they’d be missing. Martyr to the cat? No, not much better.

Earl shuffled the papers in his lap. Waiting for me to gloat, I supposed. Well, he had just said that feeding Ivan ought to be the first order of business. We couldn’t very well make plans for our community while the cat in charge of keeping elegance and sophistication alive went hungry, especially since we needed him alert and fat. Me? No one understood why I’d been chosen. I hadn’t brought much to the table so far, what with my love for dogs, and my survival was accidental. Right place at the right time. Turns out stolid New England was just the right place to be for the particular form this apocalypse took. Granite bedrock and all that.

My boring hometown was a safe haven and everyone wanted in on our resources and cat population. The people turning up every day were let in or turned away depending on whether they liked dogs or cats. I counted my lucky stars I’d been grandfathered in simply because my neighbors didn’t have the heart to kick me out. Excellent keyboarding skills and a dog-friendly personality didn’t count for much in a cat’s opinion. Especially without, um, working keyboards.

I couldn’t afford to brag about being chosen to serve our savior.

Their hearts would harden-they already had. Tonight was pivotal. We’d acquired a Turkish Van cat of our own to preserve civilization here.

Everyone felt better about our future-if we could keep him happy. At least I knew how to open cans. You could say I was a natural.

And yet, the certainty that had propelled me to my feet seemed to be bleeding away, frightened off by Ivan’s fixed intensity and everyone else’s jealousy. They waited, grumbling, for me to just get on with it. Uncomfortable silence.

Hi, I’m Misty and I’m a Dog Person. Or I was. I swear, I’m not anymore! I haven’t pet a single dog in twenty-seven days. Kind of a record for me really. Apparently I can learn.

The Van cat just stared at me.

I set my yellow pad on the chair and made myself walk across the circle to where he sat in the tacky folding metal chair. My sandals slapped lightly on the tiles, making tinny echoes. Ivan’s roving gaze sent tremors of anticipation in my fingers. His fur looked so silky….

A few whispered conversations resumed. They probably didn’t like the creepy silence any more than I did. I appreciated their polite attempt not to beg Ivan to pick them instead. I’d never seen a Turkish Van cat swim, as they were reported to love doing-probably none of them had either.

I stopped in front of Ivan. He rolled over, long, white legs sprawled out in careless indolence. He tilted his head at my hesitation and held out his paw as if to show me his gorgeous claws.

“Perhaps we should step out of the room?” I tried.

”Meow meow.” His grave eyes watched me with avid intent.

If I ran, he would definitely find the strength to hunt me down. After all, he’d walked into this room. Heck, he’d arrived at the bridge leading to our sleepy town only last night, offering his sophistication in return for our worship and sustenance. He had to have gotten there somehow.

He batted my wrist with his paw pads, pricking me with claws of steel.

Exerting steady pressure, he dug in and pulled me closer, parting his lips. White fangs gleamed with fluorescent highlights. My heart thumped in panic, hot fear filling me.

”Will it hurt?” My voice sounded thready, weak.

Hunger flared in his eyes at the question. “Mew.”

Ivan wrapped his paws around my vulnerable, bare arm. The sharp movement splintered any second thoughts. He kicked with his back legs and gnawed. My cheap cotton dress was no protection. The chafe of his claws sent tremors up my body. Terror flashed through me. What if he decided to sneak attack my legs next? From behind…the sofa???

Then all thought and emotion burst in flame, immolating me through the fierce violence of his teeth sinking into my hand. I’m so sorry! I wanted to scream. I should have opened the can already! The agony of the deep puncture, fear feeding pain, fired through my blood. I struggled like a wild thing, without thought. Animal instinct screamed at me to flee, to escape by any means possible.

The Van cat held me trapped. There was no escape for me, the mouse flailing under the cat’s paw. [[Meankitty’s note: that last phrase is ORIGINAL! The author totally wanted to go with this version in the first place but was forced to convert it to a romance novel between two-legger types by somebody who likes dogs, no doubt.]]

My will, never my strong point, snapped. The fight ebbed away with the tide of my blood. The steady drop of pressure left me enervated, without resistance. Darkness filled my brain, prickled with sparking stars. I wilted, becoming a bit of detritus washed upon the floor next to Ivan’s chair. If he chewed off my thumb, my prized opposable thumb, I would be of no use to…anybody.

Pain filled my veins, pumped through my heart. It replaced my blood, spiraling through my body from the insistent penetration of Ivan’s teeth in my hand. Meow meow meow! Helpless against the crashing waves, I relinquished my last hold on my embarrassing love for dogs and sank into the hot, tarry sea of oblivion.


You’re welcome.

Meankitty + Jody Wallace  *

Cattification: The Manxy Mirror and the Stupidest Dog

Today’s cattification is a repair job on a new book by author Tia Nevitt ( Originally and lamely it was called “The Magic Mirror and the Seventh Dwarf”. Take a gander at it here:  Or at Amazon: Something something something about an “Accidental Enchantments” series.

Oh. My. Meow. So sorry, author Tia Nevitt, that nobody is going to pick up a book with a title and cover like that! It has a human on it…of COURSE. But because Tia Nevitt sounds like a good cat name–so good, in fact, I’m not even suggesting a nom de plume–I have graciously repaired the cover, title, and blurb. NOW let’s see any readers resist this manxy, magical tale of good cats and evil dogs!

Seriously, humans. CATS on the cover, and between the pages, sell books. When will you learn?

The Manxy Mirror and the Stupidest Dog: An Accidental En-CAT-ments story. Ok, it’s not accidental. It’s totally on purpose. But still.

Purebred Persian Ri-Ri LeMew is cursed. Instead of spending his days earning blue ribbons at cat shows, he is enslaved to the manxy mirror and must truthfully meow for the evil Dog Queen when she uses the mirror to call on him. To keep from betraying fellow felines—revealing their locations to the Queen’s slavering dog packs—Ri-Ri wanders the countryside, oh so humiliatingly like a stray, and avoids sentient creatures. IE, cats, humans and the occasional house rabbit too big to eat, but no others.

Gritty Kitty has been teased all her life for being small. When she hears a tale of a hidden farm full of six pound or less cats like her, she sets out to find it. It sounds a lot safer than the majority of the kingdom, now overrun by flea-bitten mutts, thanks to the Dog Queen. Gritty finds this sweet farm and is welcomed by the other teeny kitty inhabitants. One teeny tom in particular, who hasn’t been neutered, baby, woos her with mouse heads, ear-licking and his quiet, dignified miaow.

But doggish danger looms when Gritty meets another stray feline, this one a purebred Persian unimaginatively named Princess, and offers her shelter at Teeny Kitty Farm, despite Princess’s hair alone weighing at least five pounds, not to mention the rest of her. I mean, Persians are pretty hefty cats when you think about it. Slinking around nearby, Ri-Ri is instantly smitten with Princess the Purebred Persian and recognizes in her the ability to launch a new generation of blue ribbon, prize winning offspring…with him as the stud. Oh, yeah.

And that’s precisely when the Dog Queen calls Ri-Ri with the manxy mirror, and he’s compelled to tell her she does NOT have the softest fur of them all. Enraged, the vain and stupid queen—because I’m so SURE dogs have nicer fur than cats—vows to find Teeny Kitty Farm and destroy it.

If either Gritty or Ri-Ri are to have any hope of a happy feline ending, they must team up to break the manxy mirror’s curse before the wild dog packs kill them all…


Ri-Ri is played gloriously on the cover by Turnip from

If Gritty Kitty were on the cover, she’d look like Smackey

And Princess would be Fanzania

You’re all very welcome.


Meankitty & Jody W. *