Catsville

Nalini de Sielvie

Description

A delightful, enthralling tale of vast imagination depicting a band of refugee cats in their quest for a "Purrfect Paradise." In the aftermath of a great war between cats, humans and dogs, cats are banished and they flee persecution in their homeland. Their adventures as they follow Holey Moses, their leader, and his canine friends, Brutus and Caesar, and eventual colonisation of a Brave New World, are portrayed with humour, and a sense of fun. But with a subtle underlying theme of everyday human issues, aspirations, endurance and achievement. The refugee cats set out to conquer a new world in true pioneering style, and encounter danger, betrayal, rebellion, romance, laughter and fun. A brilliant tale not just for cat lovers, but will capture hearts and imagination of the young, and young at heart.

Sujets

• Colonisation
• Fantasy
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 07 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823081290
• Langue: English

Extrait

By the same author
Written In The Stars
Thistles In The Wind
Dark Shadows
Wild Poppies
An Eternal Summer
Is this your Caruso? Biography of tenor Luigi Campeotto
Edge of Nowhere
Serendib-Isle of dreams
Return to Enchantment
Catsville
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
Nalini de Sielvie
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK)
UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Nalini de Sielvie. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 03/06/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-8130-6 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-8131-3 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-8129-0 (e)
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author

Chapter 1
N o one knows exactly where it is located on a map of the world, as all ancient maps and records have long since disappeared. Everyone though, knows that Catsville is located somewhere in the animal kingdom far away from the kingdoms of humans, dogs, and other beasts. There was a time many ages ago when all cats, dogs, beasts, and humans lived together in peace and harmony in Peaceful Valley.
It was also a time when animals and humans communicated with each other, as all cats and dogs were born with the gift of speech. And it was a commonplace occurrence for garrulous cats and dogs to hold many a learned debate on whatever topical issue was under discussion at the time. Humans too joined these weighty discussions whenever they met socially at the local tavern or on the village green.
The Cat & The Fiddle tavern was a popular place, where good music and even better ale and wine overflowed. The young cat, Yehudi Mewansing, fiddled the night away while his pretty sister, Catzibah, accompanied him on an old piano. These two musicians were direct descendents of the household cats of famous violinist, Yehudi Menuhin and his sister Hepzibah, which accounted for the cats’ musical accomplishments (so declared cats and dogs who heard them play).
Brandy, a St Bernard dog, was a teetotaller, who owned a rival tavern, Dog In The Manger. He never tired of telling every cat and dog, “I saw the light several years ago, and now I don’t touch a drop of ale or wine. But as a young pup, I liked the stuff so much that I earned my nickname Brandy.”
He always paused at this stage and looked at his audience before he continued, “You see, my Paw and I were rescue dogs, and we always carried these small flasks of brandy strapped to our collars, so we could revive an injured person. That’s why I started drinking the stuff in my early puppy days.”
The cats and dogs shook their heads in sympathy, “But you’re no longer that same old pup, instead you’re a respectable tavern owner.” Brandy nodded his dignified head solemnly.
Although Brandy now abstained from alcohol, his one burning ambition was to own a tavern. So, one day he realised his ambition and opened a cosy place with an oak-panelled interior. The place was scattered with high uncomfortable stools and hard-backed chairs, and shiny new glasses and beakers tinkled and glistened on shelves. And his cellars were stocked with oak casks full of good wine and barrels full of ale and cider. The only drawback was, he did not like anyone drinking in his tavern, and frowned upon patrons who came in for drinks.
He served disgusted patrons plenty of milk or apple cider only, and disgruntled patrons complained bitterly, “That Brandy is a crazy dog not to serve spirits and beer in his tavern.”
After a while, Brandy stopped even pretending to run a tavern. So, his patrons grumbled, “All he does is sit behind the bar reading a newspaper all day.”
Another irate dog growled, “He doesn’t care in the least if he has no customers, because all he wants to do is escape from doing household chores every morning and pretend to be a publican.”
All the dogs agreed and trotted off to find a real pub that served beer to thirsty patrons. The whole village knew about Brandy’s peculiar whims, and did not pay much attention to the Dog In The Manger tavern. But they grumbled among themselves, “He doesn’t drink any of the stuff, and neither does anyone else get to drink it, so his tavern is aptly named.”
Another popular place in the village was jolly Katzen Fritzen’s Beer Garten. Katzen was a large black and white cat with bright blue eyes, whose ancestors had first started brewing beer in the valley. They belonged to an ancient family of brewers from Germany, and knew the secret art of brewing the most refreshing amber beer anybody had ever tasted. Every man and his dog hung around the place, especially when Katzen Fritzen held his annual, Not-Sober Fest at the end of each autumn. The villagers celebrated till dawn after they had gathered their abundant harvest. Then they drank the best beer in the village, so the revellers declared.
Now, if any human or animal happened to hear those long-winded debates that often took place in these favourite places, they said to each other, “Surely, these debaters must have kissed the Blarney Stone.”
And as every cat and dog knew, that famous stone stood in Blarney Castle, somewhere in the emerald isle of Ireland. Legend has it that if a person kissed the Blarney Stone, he or she instantly became garrulous, and was capable of talking the hind legs off a donkey, as the saying went.
However, this peaceful co-existence among inhabitants of the valley lasted only until the Great War broke out between cats, dogs and humans. And the war raged on without any chance of a solution or reconciliation until the bitter end.
Peaceful Valley, as the name suggests, was just that in days gone by. Every human, dog, cat, and other beasts lived together in harmony side by side, working and helping each other build a safe, secure and contented community. At the time of this story, the population in Peaceful Valley was about one thousand humans, five hundred and fifty dogs, seven hundred and seventy-five cats, and countless numbers of wild animals, birds and reptiles.
Humans lived in pleasant houses in the best part of town (naturally) and close to shops, factories, schools, and the local public hall, where every Saturday night, the sound of scraping fiddles, bass drums and concertinas was heard. The villagers danced till the moon slipped over distant hills and dawn broke rosily over fields and meadows far away.
Those revellers who over-indulged the night before, groaned and turned over in their beds next day. And when they awoke from groggy sleep, some grumbled, “Them rosy fingers of dawn seem to be accompanied by brass knuckles hammering in my head!”
To which, some unsympathetic partners retorted, “Then you should have stopped after your twentieth glass of beer.”
So, Sunday morning was usually spent sleeping in and getting over Saturday night. then it was time for an enormous succulent roast for lunch, more sleep in the afternoon, and church-going in the evenings.
This was the way of humans, but cats and dogs seldom or never indulged in excessive eating and drinking, as most of them were disciplined in their behaviour most of the time. A few greedy ones though, (who were more human-like in their eating habits) gorged themselves until they could hardly stagger to their sleeping quarters.
Dogs slept inside sheds and shelters that resembled army barracks, with row upon row of camp cots and warm blankets that humans made. And they told each other, “Our dogs are useful enough, herding cattle and sheep, and making sure none went gambolling and frolicking or ended up in ditches or briar patches.”
Humans took good care of dogs, and indulgently said, “They guard the pigs too, as they have to bring home the bacon safely at the end of each day.”
Cats, on the other hand dwelt on the outskirts or fringes of town, and humans referred to cats as fringe dwellers.
Their homes straggled under majestic bowers of shady oak, maple and elm trees, and were built like igloos to keep out wind and rain. The narrow entrances opened out to warm parlours where cats entertained friends and families. Bedrooms, kitchens, and pantries tunnelled down below. And each cat slept soundly in a warm cosy bed made of tender bracken, catnip and grasses.
These beds lay buried deep in the earth in long narrow tunnels that once belonged to an ancient family of moles. The cats extended these tunnels over numerous generations, until the labyrinth their industrious ancestors created far exceeded all expectations.
It was quite common for some cat to get lost in