AND GOD CREATED CATS

This is a riveting novel (memories) of the life of the American cat. An American feline cat, Puska, lived with the same man for eighteen years, and was in love. All her life. Before she dies, Puska leaves the “Memoirs” recalling her life, and her views on many issues, political and not. These memoirs take us to numerous places in the US, and around the world. In some places, she lives for a while. The reader would visit California, Texas, New Jersey, Saudi Arabia, Switzerland, Great Britain, Italy, and Russia, and we meet many wonderful animals living there and associating with Puska. Puska befriends all of them having her take on these places through their and her own perspective.

A FEW PAGES:

Chapter 1: The Earliest Memories

Hi there, you, the two-legged creatures often called people and often, even worse than that. My name is Pusca – short for Pussy Cat. This is a pleasant and gentle name. Jealous? Don’t be. This is silly. We cannot be all beautiful. This is just impossible. We are not all created equal, as you know. Some will have to struggle and survive as people. And, I am a female cat. You call us feline – no relation to the Italian film director. We are cats and he was an Italian. I have four legs, four paws, many claws, two ears, and lots of long white whiskers, three-color longhair furry coat, long lashes, and an elongated bushy tail to die for. More, I have two light-bluish-grayish-greenish and, sometimes at night, very dark eyes. I can tell you with confidence and no false shyness – I am a beauty of a cat. I can say it straight out and openly, not hiding anything. What is there to hide? I am gorgeous. Are you beautiful? What do you have to show for your beauty? You have some of what we have but not all, at all. When it comes to claws, paws, whiskers and the fur – you do not have much to talk about. Thus, you alter your appearance by doing nails (our claws), wearing the fur coats (our fur coats), growing the facial hair (our whiskers and beards), and all of your hairdos are just to make you look like us. You don’t get it, do you? You still don’t have a tail and this is really dumb. I do not understand how you can jump, run, fool around, catch mice, and do all other neat things without it. It should be very hard for you to survive in this cruel world, in your concrete jungle. Concrete or not, it is still a jungle. How can you shove the flies away? You are just a natural attraction for them. You have no fur and go just anywhere. How can you lick clean under the tail? Oh, I forgot, you don’t have a tail.  Well, nobody’s perfect, I guess. Looking at you that is. But, let me tell you, we cats are. We are the perfect, the ultimate creation destined to rule this planet with you, people, sitting by our side but somewhat lower, gently rubbing our bellies and feeding us with everything we like. These things you are good for and we, cats, were the first to acknowledge it. Some of the better dogs appreciate it as well but dogs are dogs and mostly not important. Also, you are good at scratching behind the ears, but not all of you. Some of you are just good for nothing, plain nothing. After all, even you, the two-legged creatures, should be good for something. You should too have a purpose in life and we are it. In case you don’t know, we are the purpose in your life. We are the reason for your existence. Yes, god created you first and then he saw that you had nothing to do. You were bored and that let to mischief with apples and each other. Thus, he created us, cats, to watch over you and to keep you busy. Got it? I know it is not easy to comprehend. It is too philosophical and you are too slow. Wind up… Fast forward… Don’t fall asleep. Not yet, wait for me. Hey, wake up there and smell the cats. Don’t sneeze. Yuck… Not on me. Turn away when you do that, you dummy. Cover your face. Where is handkerchief? We too have allergies and mainly because of you. However, do you see us wining and complaining? Never… People… Dumb as it comes. Listen and don’t argue. Our welfare is the purpose of your life, people. You should know it by now and you always knew it in your heart. I am not fooling. Anyway, you had better remember that, or else…

It was a dark thunderous night. Rain was not pouring dogs and cats but oceans of freezing water. The world was shaking with uncertainty. All creatures, large and small, stayed inside under cover. No one knew what a night like that could brink if you were left alone, outside. That’s when I entered this world of the spooky existence. I was alone facing the nature and the powers beyond. How do you like that? Not bad is it? It was a joke but a good one. No, I was born in California on a beautiful summer morning. What is California? Are you for real? California is a full of grapes, strawberries, garlic, broccoli, oranges, highways, yuppies and cats country, separated from the other countries by water and land. Do you get it now? More, we have palm trees. But, most of all, we cultivated computers there. The climate in California is so ideal for growing the computer trees embedded with the software branches. Now, in case if you don’t know, the computer people are not any different from you yet, they get born this way. Something happens to them while they are little. Maybe it was the darkness or maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the UFOs or maybe it was the presidential campaign, the scariest thing of all. It could be a sexual abuse or a lack of it. Who can say now for certain, after so many years? The human psychology is a mystery even to the human psychologists. The human brain is a mystery even to the humans with brain. The human brain is a mystery to itself even when it is in working order.

 

 

 

 

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Boris Zubry
Boris Zubry was born in the Soviet Union in 1951. After earning a master's degree in mechanical engineering, he renounced Soviet citizenship and left the Soviet Union in 1978. In 1979, he received permission to enter the United States and became a U.S. citizen in 1984. He has worked as an engineer throughout the United States and abroad and currently teaches and lives in Princeton, New Jersey. Outside the books listed here, Mr. Zubry is also author of numerous literary and technical publications.
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