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The Good, the Bad, and the Furry
by Tom Cox

There's a downside to being cat crazy. Actually, there are a lot of downsides to being any kind of crazy; but right now I'm just focused on the cat crazy part. A downside of being cat crazy is that you can't just pass by anything cat related, even when you just happen to spot that something out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes that impulse can lead you seriously astray.

Case in point: The Good, the Bad, and the Furry by English author Tom Cox. I just happened to spot this book on the New Releases shelf at my local library, and felt compelled to grab it and take it home with me. That result probably owes a lot to the picture on the cover, which shows Cox's cat The Bear soulfully staring out at all who pass by, just begging cat crazy people like yours truly to pick up the book and take it home to read--a process not unlike adoptions at the local Petco.

The Good, the Bad, and the Furry
by Tom Cox

Fortunately, unlike an actual cat, a book about cats demands less than a lifetime's commitment. Nevertheless, I must admit that The Good, the Bad, and the Furry proved to be more of an expenditure of effort and focus than I really cared to offer. It took me nearly a month to read what by all rights should be a small and rather breezy volume.

What, then, is the problem with The Good, the Bad, and the Furry? For starters, author Cox made a questionable decision when he decided to begin his account of life with his multiple cats by relating the circumstances of the death of one of his felines. Of course, that unfortunate incident almost certainly did happen as Cox reports it--but to stick that nasty jolt right at the beginning of the book is off-putting, especially given that his natural audience is other cat lovers. The account of one cat's swan song is bound to stir up unpleasant memories for the bulk of this book's readers; I know I had a hard time continuing after reaching the fateful, fatal end of that first chapter. Given the rest of the book--a fairly meandering account of Cox's life with his cats that features a loose narrative structure--one wonders why the story of the one kitty's demise needed to be included in the work at all, beyond an odd devotion to a strict reporting of the facts that, frankly, doesn't seem to fit all that well with the tone of the rest of the book.

(By the way, I'm specifically not referring to which cat dies, because that would be something of a spoiler, I guess, although it happens in the first chapter so it's hardly a shocking reveal as far as the rest of the work goes.)

Even after the reader gets past that bump in Cox's road, it's still somewhat difficult to get into the author's story. This situation prevails largely because it is too much the author's story, and not nearly enough about his cats. Cox spends far too much time reporting on his own fundamentals and foibles instead of focusing more on those features of his cats. There's plenty about his relationships, his somewhat faltering career as a writer, his oddly constructed house, and his eccentric parents--all of which takes valuable textual time away from the real stars of his show. Sure, his cats' lives need some context--just not that much, especially considering that the author is himself, given his own descriptions, not really all that interesting.

Cox falls into a few other literary traps. His attempts at cleverness are very hit or miss; Cox is no ailurophile Oscar Wilde, just a decent writer who gets off a good line now and then. One thing that often hold Cox's writing back on the cleverness scale is the author's frequent reliance on pop culture references to make his point (or joke, as the case may be). That technique works, mostly, when the reference points to a known quantity; but when an American reader encounters the name of some British television personality who has never translated across the pond, the whole endeavor comes to a grinding--and not particularly entertaining--halt.

On the positive side, the best parts of the book are the every-other-chapter interstitial sections, such as "The Ten Catmandments" or "Advice for New Kitten Owners." These standalone pieces, often accompanied by appropriate photos, present mostly silly musings on a variety of cat-related topics, in which the author's wit shines through the brightest. An entire book of these anecdotes, aphorisms, and assorted others would probably make for a better volume than what Cox's readers ultimately received.

Ultimately, The Good, the Bad, and the Furry either rises or falls on the reader's appetite for anything cat-related. If you truly are cat crazy, to the point where any time spent with a piece of "caticana" is a pleasurable pursuit, then this book will probably satisfy that taste. Certainly there's little harm in reading The Good, the Bad, and the Furry--it's just that, for a cat lover who is not quite that far over the edge, it is a work that just isn't quite what it could have been.