“The Cat and the Cocker”
by Jody Wallace
Original Release Date: June 2018
Re-release date: TBD
Length: Short story
Have not yet re-released this story, which was originally in the Cocky Cockers anthology. If you would like a copy, let me know! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written.
Raziel has everything a cat could want – her own house, her own human, and lots of tuna and cuddles. When her soft, wonderful human is seduced by a hairy, dog-scented male, Raziel does what any smart cat would do and resists the change, unwilling to give up her human’s attention and the best spot in the bed.
Her stealthy resistance comes to an abrupt halt, however, when the humans try to introduce a dog into the household, and Raziel is forced to escalate her resistance into a literal campaign of terror. Have the humans been brainwashed by canine tail wags and fawning obedience, or can Raziel save the day?
Tropes: This romance short story features pets as matchmakers, sort of, and “the other woman”, if that is indeed a trope.
One Page Excerpt, so you know what you’re getting into with Raziel:
That giant, reeking human, the one who keeps stealing my soft petter, has brought me a new scratching post. Well, they call it a “couch,” but it’s for me. The two of them wrestle it through the door, laughing, and settle it against the wall where my old scratching post used to be.
I do not break for the great outdoors, though I could. I totally could. Instead I watch from the kitchen counter, as my petter smiles up at the large male and doesn’t even say hello to me, after being missing for eons.
The food is half gone from my bowl. By Bast, I could have starved.
They head back outside, for what I don’t know, and I approach the offering. Large, brown, plump, like the world’s biggest lap. I sniff the corner. Reach for the arm with my front paws. And dig in.
Oh, my. It is a delight. A pleasure to my claws—supple and slick and so meaty smelling. A nip confirms it isn’t edible, not without effort, so I rub my face and body all over it, marking my ownership.
My new precious. I love it. I will thank the man, perhaps, if he doesn’t smell too strongly of dog tonight.
I hear their feet on the porch and leap onto the kitchen counter as if I haven’t noticed the gift. The memory of it causes me to knead the marble—but only with one paw, because I have control of myself. The man invites my human to try out the new furniture.
Mew, I say politely, reminding her of the food situation.
But she’s entranced by the scratching post. She runs her hand along the backrest and hums.
I suppose I can’t blame her. The big stink watches her admiring the leather with a…well, it’s the way I watch the birds outside the window. Threateningly. I would eat them if I felt like it.
I hop off the counter and trot across the wooden floor. Meow, I warn her. This one is starting to get ideas.
But she ignores me, sinking into the cushions and extolling their virtues. He slumps beside her, and they draw closer and closer, uttering talky blah blah noises, sniffing each other as if they’re in season, until I am forced to worm between them and stop the man from putting his mouth where it doesn’t belong.
He is not the one. He smells of the forbidden, and he never tells me I’m pretty or admires my lovely butthole. I won’t have it.