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A Cat May Look
A Cat May Look
A Cat May Look
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A Cat May Look

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Tim is a Shifter, a were-person - and he tends to keep quiet about it. Mostly because he isn't a werewolf, or a were-jaguar, or anything cool. No, he's a were-domestic cat. Nothing wrong with that, right? But not exactly glamorous, just the same. So when he gets a huge crush on his next-door-neighbour, he doesn't exactly spread the news around. Which makes it a little difficult when a witch puts a spell on him that has him stuck in his were-form, as Tibbles... Short, approximately 15,000 words.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAlex Ankarr
Release dateJan 11, 2014
ISBN9781386187479
A Cat May Look
Author

Alex Ankarr

https://twitter.com/AlexAnkarr

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    Book preview

    A Cat May Look - Alex Ankarr

    A Cat May Look

    Alex Ankarr

    Published by Alex Ankarr, 2014.

    This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

    A CAT MAY LOOK

    First edition. January 11, 2014.

    Copyright © 2014 Alex Ankarr.

    ISBN: 978-1386187479

    Written by Alex Ankarr.

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    A Cat May Look

    Image used in creation of bookcover - https://www.flickr.com/photos/ianlivesey/ public domain.

    A Cat May Look

    Most folks, they're kind of proud of being shifters, if that's what they are. Because it's at least a little bit cool . Werewolves, werecougars, people who shift into being sharks and bears and rhinos and all kinds of awesome things. Mostly, they love it. Okay, a little bit of social stigma in some areas still, a little bit of consciousness-raising needed, but overall .

    Since the laws were changed and people got enlightened, it's no big deal to have something a little extra, to be more than just vanilla human. People don't tend to keep it a secret any more. And for a lot of people, in consciousness-raising groups and associations, working in academia, marching on the streets, it's a point of pride and a badge of cool.

    Of course, it depends a little bit on what kind of an animal you shift into. Because not all of them are born equal, and not all of them are equally cool. They're just not. Say you turn, at the full of the moon or when you're under exceptional stress, into a meerkat, instead of a wolf or a jungle cat or a were-bear. Maybe you're not quite as eager to announce the fact to the four winds as most shifters. Meerkats, sure: they are indeed the cutest little things that God ever created. But... cool? Maybe not so much.

    Maybe you'd be just a little bit embarrassed about people knowing that about you: careful, about who you let your secret spill out to.

    And Tim felt kind of like that about his own alternative form: the one that came out to play according to the lunar cycle, or whenever he was stressed or emotional, or whenever he damn well felt like it, really. Not that he was a meerkat, himself: though he knew one or two. They were cuties. He wouldn't have minded that, so much.

    No, that wasn't Tim's were-form. Because Tim was a cat. (No! Not a jungle-cat, not a lethal beast. Not a cougar, a leopard, a lion or a panther. He would have had no problem with any of those forms. They were cool, all right.) No. Tim was a domestic cat. A kitty, a regular domesticated felis catus, a tabbycat of the hearthside fire variety. Nothing glamorous about that, about being Tiddles, something people associated with a creature that liked roaring fires and tinned food and being petted, something tamed. And perhaps over-fed, and spoilt and fat.

    Tim kept it quiet: even when he went to Shifter meetings and mixers, he wasn't in any hurry to advertise his other shape. He just felt silly about it. Plus it wasn't much good as a line for picking up guys: and it wasn't as if he hadn't tried it. Really, it was just so unfair. Wolf or big-cat shifters used it to good effect – amazing, crazy effect – and he'd seen a few of his friends in action, doing exactly that. Guys and gals alike just fell over themselves, in bars and at parties and waiting in line at the coffee-shop, at the news that the attractive person trying to make conversation, make time with them – or trotting out the same tired old lines, whatever – was a were, or a Shifter. Especially if the form was something as hot and sexy and dangerous – well, theoretically – as a wolf, or one of the other more glamorous forms.

    And Tim had at least tried, a couple of times, and a couple more. But after the first excited response: 'A Shifter? Really? Wow. What's that like? Where do you guys hang out when you shift? What's your were-animal?' - he got nada. Because then it moved on to, 'Oh, a cat? Cool! Like, an ocelot? A tiger?' And then on receipt of the facts, it quickly devolved into, 'Oh. Right. Uh, that's nice! Do you, uh, eat regular cat-food?'

    Damn it. Sometimes Tim wanted to shriek it from the rooftops, that even regular old house-cats had their wilder side, were hunters and killers and wild things too. He'd killed enough mice in his time to stock half of a pet-shop: he loved the moon, and ran through the woods, and felt the pull of the natural world

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