Cat's Eye Digicam: a story by the Anchorite



Cat's Eye Digicam
a story by the Anchorite


Mr. Kitten did not know his true birthday, so he and his human established the tradition to celebrate it on the date that she adopted him from the shelter. That tradition worked for Mr. Kitten as he contentedly received generous gifts every year, while he repaid his human’s kindness with several gifts of his own. She especially loved the dead birds and occasional mice.

This year, Mr. Kitten wanted a camera because he wanted to become a photographer. He did not want just any camera, but the top-of-the-line Cat’s Eye Digicam with the sharpest image resolution and largest memory capacity on the market. Mr. Kitten never accepted anything less than the best.

His human unfortunately lost her job a scant week before celebrating Mr. Kitten’s birthday. She panicked and considered foregoing the lavish gift to save money, but she valued her cat’s happiness and still purchased the camera despite facing an uncertain financial future. Mr. Kitten appreciated the gesture as he happily took photos that he posted on his blog. 

His human had to tighten her belt as she had to provide for herself and her cats with a limited supply of severance and unemployment checks, so she cut the food budget and fed Mr. Kitten lower quality cat food than what he normally ate. Mr. Kitten would have previously refused to eat such inferior swill, but he saw his human hurting and realized the sacrifice that she made to feed him that much. He wrinkled his nose and begrudgingly ate the cheap cat food. In the back of his mind, he vowed to find a way to apply his photography skills to his help out his human.

Mr. Kitten saw her come home day after day in exhausted tears after an endless parade of failed job interviews with countless doors slammed in her face. Mr. Kitten’s close friend Twitch offhandedly suggested that her luck could not be this bad. Mr. Kitten pondered that notion as he thought that despite his often questionable ideas, even a broken clock was right twice a day. Mr. Kitten suggested investigating these prospective employers with his camera in tow. Twitch insisted that he should go out in the field because it was his idea. Mr. Kitten suspected that Twitch just wanted an excuse to play with the camera, but he allowed his friend to take the camera as he trailed their human’s job search. Twitch returned with the camera’s memory filled entirely with black screens because he forgot to open the shutter. Mr. Kitten rolled his eyes, snatched the Cat’s Eye Digicam from Twitch, and then bit his tail to send him running away.

Mr. Kitten followed his human on her job interviews, often sneaking out during his own lunch hour and taking extended breaks from his own job. His efforts led to prolonged absences and diminished performance that caught the attention of his supervisor Anton Fitzgibbon. The Chaircat of the Internetz called Kitten into his office with a gruff bellow and demanded an explanation. Anton listened with impassive silence as Mr. Kitten explained his situation. The Chaircat recently opened his heart to a human’s love after many years spent alone, so Mr. Kitten’s story gained his sympathy. Anton immediately granted Mr. Kitten an extended leave of absence with full pay, placed the Internetz A/V department at his disposal, provided a discretionary expense account, and even placed Warrior Cat on retainer for any potential wetwork. Mr. Kitten thanked his boss and set out on his mission, feeling slightly remorseful for the “Ditzy Fitzy” graffiti and crude caricatures that he scrawled throughout the office.

Mr. Kitten’s keen eye and high-resolution photos uncovered deliberate efforts from crooked employers to keep his human unemployed as they gouged their own clients. Mr. Kitten frowned as he thought that no matter how strict or uptight Anton behaved, albeit less so after adoption by his new human, he ran his business with honor and integrity. Mr. Kitten eagerly took photos and anonymously sent them to these bad humans, urging them to reconsider their hiring decisions if they wanted these incriminating photos to disappear. 
Twitch (with Mr. Kitten's butt in background)

Back at home, his human barely held back tears of joys as rejections turned into offers. Before she knew it, she found herself in the position of having to choose between competing prospects who practically begged for attention. She finally accepted a generous offer where she had a private office and no dysfunctional crazies to drive her mad at work. Mr. Kitten and Twitch once again enjoyed premium cat food and repaid their human’s kindness by dragging a raccoon corpse into the house. Mr. Kitten knew that she would be happy after seeing the size of this dead creature. 

Twitch begged Mr. Kitten to borrow the Cat’s Eye Digicam now that he completed his mission, but Mr. Kitten had a better idea. Mr. Kitten kept a list of every job interview of their human’s job search, so he sent Twitch on a mission to visit every one of those shady employers that rejected their human, barf on their shoes, leave hairballs on their floors, and take high-resolution digital photographs of each one. Twitch excitedly set out on his own mission. Mr. Kitten warned him to not get any barf on his precious camera or else he would bite Twitch’s tail so hard that he would beg for Warrior Cat to put him out of his misery. Twitch told him to relax and not worry about anything, which did not reassure him in the slightest and instead gave Mr. Kitten a new perspective on all the times he made similar promises to Anton Fitzgibbon.  

Before Twitch departed, their human hugged and kissed both cats. She radiated happiness at once again securing gainful employment and told her beloved pets, “Who says black cats are bad luck?”

Photo credit: Twitch McLaughlin

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The Interview (starring Anton, the Chaircat of the Internets)



The Interview


"In five years?" The woman smiled a practiced smile. "Well, in five years I see myself further along in my career. I'll probably be married by then..."

Anton's face darkened.

"...and I'll be starting a fam--"

"Thank you," Anton said, looking pointedly at the door. The applicant sat in the stiff-backed chair, her smile faltering. Anton stared at her as he pressed the intercom button. "Send in the next applicant please, Mr. Johnson."

* * *

"How do I define success?" The next applicant plucked a soft gray cat hair from her immaculate black business suit. "Well, as the CEO of a major software company, I'd want to create a mission statement to address that question. What was that? Why I spend a great deal of time at home." She pulled out her iPhone and brought up a calendering app. "10.8 hours per day, in fact, which is longer than it seems because I only sleep 4.2 hours per night, yielding a total home/awake time of 6.6 hours. Yes, I don't let the grass doesn't grow under my feet."

She also did not let the door hit her on the way out.

* * *

The third applicant answered every question quickly and well and was rejected.

***

"In five years, I see myself sitting in a chair, petting you."

Anton make a checkmark on his notepad.

"I guess I'm not much of a success." The fourth applicant smiled. "I have a temp job and I'm unemployed a lot. I guess success will be when I can work from home."

Anton made another check mark.

The applicant struggled over the final question. "Counters are okay. My couches are old anyway..." She finally gave up. "I'm sorry. I can't think of any rules that cats have to obey." Anton raised an eyebrow, but she was already chuckling.

Anton lrolled on the floor as the woman giggled over the idea of a cat "obeying."

"You're clearly an ideal candidate." Anton said. He started to straighten his tie, then shrugged and took it off. He jumped into her lap. "You may adopt me."

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Mr Kitten on Human Stupidity, Logical Fallacies, and the Black Death

If dogs can smell fear, cats can smell stupidity. -- Steve Warren


An Essay by Mr Kitten


Usually, I talk in LOLSpeak, my dialect, but today I shall speak in Standard American English. Mosly.

Today's topics are species-based persecution, the logical fallacy known as post hoc ergo proctor hoc, the Black Death, and the overall stupidity of the human race. Heady stuff for a cat, you say? Ah, the stupid begins already. You stoopy stereotypeing stoop.

Human Stupidity
Okay, there was this poor man who gotted bubonic plague, also known as the Black Death, after he took a mouse outta a cat's mouth.  

Some people say he was trying to rescue mouse and he very stupid. Some say the cat was choking on mouse and he was trying to save cat and that not stupid. 

I say all humans are stupid. All are stupid sometime and some are stupid alla time. Seriously, it's funny to watch you argue.

Okay, this section called Human Stupidity, and I talked about it here, but I not done because human stoopy is a theme that flows all through this essay, and out through the Internets to cover the globe and even infect part of space because humans are just  that stupid. 

Not all of you, but yeah, actually, all of you. Sorry. 

Case in point.

People always wanna blame cat

The man got so sick he went to the hospital. Bubonic plague treatable. But not so much when doctors treat him for Cat Scratch Fever instead of for bubonic plague. Holy Ted Nugent.

I mean, what? The National Institute of Health says Cat Scratch Fever is not even serious and usually doesn't need any treatment at all. People don't go to hospital for it. He really sick and they just assume Cat Scratch Fever because he was around a cat? 

Logical Fallacy

Now look at this headline: 
Man escapes death but faces losing fingers and toes after contracting BUBONIC PLAGUE from cat bite. UK Mirror.
This what peeps call post hoc ergo proctor hoc: He was bitten by a cat, then he got plague. So the cat bite must have caused the plague.
Here what Centers for Disease Control say an I kinna think they know better than dumb newspaper. Bubonic plague
is usually transmitted to humans by the bites of infected rodent fleas. Less common exposures include handling infected animal tissues (hunters, wildlife personnel), inhalation of infectious droplets from cats or dogs with plague, and rarely, contact with a pneumonic plague patient. CDC.
You see "cat bite" on that list? No. Flea bite and other stuffs yeah.  People always wanna blame cats. Stupid [EXPLETIVE DELETED] newspapers. Stupid [EXPLETIVE DELETED] doctors.

What are cats famous for? Killing mice and rats and letting civilization thrive. We are known for:

1. Controlling the rats that eat grain and would have made grain storage impossible and therefore cities impossible and therefore civilization impossible.

2. Controlling the rats that cause disease. Like bubonic plague. OMG, what a coincidence, we were just talking about bubonic plague. And rodents. It's like there's a connection between them.

What are rodents known for? Eating grain and causing plague. 

Okay, so now we got a newspaper story and there's a cat, a rodent and bubonic plague. And what does stupid newspaper peeps do? Blame the plague on the cat! [EXPLETIVE DELETED] [EXPLETIVE DELETED] [EXPLETIVE DELETED]

The Black Deaf

Now I talks pacifically about Black Deaf. You humans like post hoc ergo proctor hoc so much, check this out:
  • 1232      Pope Gregory IX declares cats are infernal and everyone starts being mean to them in Europe. 
  • 1352     25,000,000 Europeans have been killed by Black Deaf, which is caused by fleas, which live on rats, which are all totally like "Partaaay!" because everyone's all busy hating on the cats.
  • 1484       Pope Innocent VII says cats are unholy.
  • 1600's     Black Deaf come back again.
Conclusion


I'm tired of writing. Humans are stupid.

Links about cat persecution and the Black Deaf:

http://www.knowyourcat.info/lib/devilcats.htm
http://www.sfcdcp.com/plague.html
http://suite101.com/article/cats-and-the-black-plague-a58146
http://www.examiner.com/article/cats-myths-mysteries-and-weird-facts
http://www.stanleyresearch.org/dnn/LaboratoryofDevelopmentalNeurovirology/ToxoplasmosisSchizophreniaResearch/IAllaboutCats/tabid/173/Default.aspx

Sources:

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Short story: Cats in SPACE!!!


Hi, I Twitch. Me and Kitten had the funnest day today. We got to go on a spaceship and everything. It was so fun, and we didn't even throw up which was funny cause we throw up a lot just hanging around. It's like a hobby or sumpin. We knows all about barfing, but we din barf at all in this story. But someone else did!!!!1 LOLZ!!!!



The Anchorite's writing assignment for me today was to write something about his character Claire. She's a very deep character, a pivotal player in a dark fantasy epic. She is a lesbian who breaks all the fan service conventions. Her characterization explores love and pain and loss in unexpected ways. So, of course, this had to be a comedy piece.

Flagship Character

"Oh, no--" Claire clutched her stomach as a string of noisy eruptions choked off her words and she vomited a half liter of clear broth. In the zero gravity of space, it formed a small galaxy of floating globules.

Twitch slid out out his lounging area. It was a shelf padded with goose-down and upholstered in silk. Stretchy netting covered the pad, allowing a cat to snuggle in and be held against it, creating a comforting illusion of gravity. Mr. Kitten invented it.

Twitch pushed off against the pad and floated to Claire. He used his claws to hold onto her flight suit and sniffed at a sphere. He licked it tentatively. "You're kinda sick," he said sympathetically and gave Claire his version of a kiss, which was to push his nose and mouse against her eye. Claire wiped a droplet of broth from her eyelash.

"You shouldn't have let go of the handhold," he advised as he turned his body around until his butt was up against Claire's face. "Now you're stranded, just like your barf bubbles, because you don't have anything to push off against."

A vomit globe burst against the back of Claire's head as Twitch used his back legs to push off against her neck and face. The cat's motion moved Claire with an equal and opposite amount of force, but because of Twitch's much smaller mass, the movement did not get her near a handhold. It merely made her slowly rotate.

Twitch landed back at his lounge and winked at Mr. Kitten. "Did you know William Shakepeare invented the word puking?"

Claire turned a little more green. "Don't talk to me about Shakespeare," Mr. Kitten said, turning away. Claire let out a breath.

Kitten cocked his head and turned back. "Actually, that's interesting. Did you know Chaucer was the first to use the words digestion and laxative?" 

Claire swallowed.

Twitch shrugged out of his lounge again and bounced over to Mr. Kitten's, taking a circuitous and sickening route that Claire followed with watery eyes. 

"That's quite a hotchpotch collection of words, Mr. Kitten."

"He invented the word hotchpotch too."

"Seriously?" Twitch asked.

"Actually, Chaucer--" Kitten stopped and high-fived Twitch. Chaucer also invented the word seriously.

Because of the spin introduced by Twitch's movement, Claire was now looking at the cats upside down. Kitten blinked at her impassively for a moment, then he said, "Chaucer also invented poop and fart."

Claire threw up again.

Heather rushed in from the other module. "Oh, sweetheart, I just saw you on the monitor. Why didn't you call me? Poor thing." Heather looked at the spheres. They were all perfectly round now and the ship's lights illuminated each golden globe with a holiday effect. Heather deftly gathered all of them into a plastic bag for disposal, biting her lip and trying to suppress her joy of moving in space.

"I'm so sorry, honey. I never knew you got motion sickness like this."

Claire closed her eyes. "It's space sickness. And since I'm a character in a sword and sorcery dark fantasy novel, I really never had occassion to learn I was subject to it."

Heather nodded. "I was meaning to ask you why we're in a spaceship."

Claire pressed her lips together. "My author, the Anchorite, suggested that Chris Hugh write a story with me in it."

"And?"

"And he called me his flagship character and Chris misread flagship as spaceship."

Twitch tumbled out of his lounge crying "Shakespeare!" rather than the more traditional Geronimo! and began springing around the chamber. "That Chris! She's such a beldam brainsick duchess!"

Kitten rocketed out in pursuit of Twitch. "Not he's not! He's a burly-boned clown and a bolting hutch of beastliness!"

Twitch laughed. "And you're a shag-haired crafty kern!"

"You're a swollen parcel of dropsies!"

The cats bounced around the ship, shouting Shakespearean insults and trying to catch each other.

Heather helped Claire into a sleeping bag. Now that Claire's stomach was empty she felt better.
Heather stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry the Anchorite keeps having Chris Hugh write you. You always end up the butt of that crazy writer's sick jokes."

As Claire kissed Heather's cheek, she caught a glimpse of the cats. They were trying to fight, but because of the zero gravity, they just bounced off each other.

"I'm glad Anchorite had Chris write me," Claire said. "If he hadn't, I never would have met you." She looked at the cats and laughed as one of them called the other the son and heir of a mongrel she-dog. "And I wouldn't have met them."

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Guest Post: from Daemon Surly Cat

Hi. Dis our berry first guest post and is  from our fren Daemon Surly Cat. it used to be on WordPress, but it so hard to use! Den we forgotted about it. and den couldn't log in for like ever. anyway, we moving our stuffs here.

So, here's the guest post. Dis lady had a bale, a bale (OMG, don't faint, Mr. Kitten), a bale of catnip deliver and, well, it was crazy.

-mr. kitten and twitch. okay, here post:

Hey Bloggy--sup Dude?

All is well while the family is away on vacation with your in-laws? I know you were soooooooo disappointed not to go. 2 whole weeks with the in-laws. YEAH RIGHT! I cant believe you got Bloggette to believe you had to work! Oh sorry--I keep forgetting Bloggette reads all your emails dude. Okay.

Well let me jump right into the fiasco with Daemon. This happened about 2 months ago, but I forgot about it until today. I dont think Toontses was involved this time, but only because he must have been at a movie opening or something. You know how it is with those celebrities . Otherwise I am sure he would have been right in the middle of it.

See, I knew Daemon did nip, but I didnt think it was all that bad. I mean, lots of cats do nip, right? And its natural, so whats wrong with that? Its legal, and they even make medicinal nip for cats with glasses or something like that. I mean, I knew Daemon did the nip in college, but of course he never inhaled. He was a member of the Zed Zed Zed Fraternity even. He had to out-sleep a lot of other plebes to make it in that fraternity. Ok. Let me get on with it. So I guess Ive established that I didnt think his nip-use was anything to worry about.

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I had an appointment that day and I was out for most of the day. I had to take a nap with the Big Kitty when I got home and I didnt hear the UPS guy when he came. Not a problem on a regular day. So here I am in dreamland, dreaming about laying my head on a nice soft furry blanket, when I realize I am dreaming and it wakes me up. Now, you know I pay close attention to any suspicious behavior from my castle-rats. They are too devious and I have to stay alert. So as I wake up I realize that Cowgirl is laying draped across my neck with her paw over my ear and I cant hear anything. Now granted, Cowgirl has always been a very affectionate cat. Well I prefer to think of it as affection even if it does leave a lot of claw marks and dental impressions. She is a 3rd generation trash-can cat with those huge eyes that see threats where there are none. And some damn-sharp teeth. So I am used to finding her curled up in that armadillo-ball thing she does in an inconvenient crook when I wake up. Under my armpit, behind the knees, top of my foot, and her all-time favorite resting spot, on my pillow, between my shoulder and my head, with her cat-butt as close as she get to my face. I think she takes pleasure in grossing me out before I am even awake. I mean, who needs coffee when you are jumping backwards out of bed to avoid having cat-butt actually touch your face? So the suspicious part of Cowgirls behavior was no cat-butt to the face. And as I tried to roll over and get out from under her, she just rolled right along with me, keeping her paw over my ear.

Now I got Cowgirl when she was 5 weeks old, not weaned, mama gone, itsy-bitsy little thing with a lot of claws and a VERY loud voice. She would stand at the top of the stairs and cry and get the other cats all upset when I left her to go down and do laundry. So I got in the habit of carrying her up and down the stairs, putting her in my sweatshirt kangaroo pouch or inside my shirt so I could do what I needed to do and she wouldnt cry. In bed, if I rolled over, I just rolled her right over with me. She tried sleeping behind my back which isnt a good idea when you weigh less than ONE pound. So she is used to being handled and moved around in her sleep. But no butt was odd. And when I rolled over on my back she tried to cover BOTH my ears! Even not quite awake I knew something was amiss.

As I gave a listen, I heard confusing things. I heard what sounded like the part of that movie Open Season where the deer is throwing bunnies instead of pebbles against the window to wake up the bear. Not too loud, but frantic. I can hear what sounds like a lawn mower out in my front yard. And some kind of weird music. That turned out to be Soprano walking on the keyboard of the electric piano. That Soprano--she'll do anything for some chicken! You know "hey-get-off-that-piano-heres-a-treat-good-kitty" kind of stuff. Anyway, so I can hear a lawn mower in my front yard, some kind of splatting against the front door, and faintly I can hear what sounds like a hundred cats yodeling all at the same time outside.

You know how my cats try to kill me every day when I come home by tripping me on the stairs, or wrapping around my legs as I am walking away from their food bowls when I havent put anything in them? Well Cowgirl was running back and forth in front of me so frantically I thought she had locked herself out of the bathroom or something! I tried to pick her up but she did her sideways-hissing-cat-crouching-knucklehead thing she does, then she tripped over the edge of the rug and fell over. Im not sure if you know the protocol for that sort of "foe pah"(as Daemon calls it). She is required by the Feline Rules of Etiquette (to which all of my cats strictly adhere)(they made me write that) to lay where fallen and take an intense tounge-bath for no less than 5 strokes; then rise and saunter off in a huff, tail up. HAH! And Daemon says He-OOMANS AIRE STE-OOPeeT! So she was out from under my feet at that point, but in big trouble with Daemon for not being on look-out.

As I rounded the corner by the front door, I saw Daemon throwing himself up against the front door, grabbing at the doorknob! He looked like he was having so much fun I just left him to it. I mean, he has no thumbs so its not like he was going to be able to open the door, right? As you will see in a minute, that little detail was the downfall of this latest plan.

I looked out the kitchen window to see who was mowing my grass. It wasnt a lawnmower Bloggy---it was every cat from my neighborhood and all the surrounding neighborhoods! My front yard was covered with cats, and all of the cats were covered with CATNIP! Have you ever heard a hundred cats purr all at the same time Bloggy? No? Well let me tell you--it sounds like a lawn mower! The catnip was so thick in my yard it was blowing over into the neighbors yard like hay in the wind. What a mess I tell you!

So I shooed all the cats away (ever try to herd cats Bloggy? No? Well dont bother.) by raking up the catnip, which I then dumped in my neighbors yard a few houses down who always has loud parties with lots of guests who all drive SUVs and who take up every parking spot on the street. Seems like fair to me--street full of cars and LOUD music in exchange for a backyard full of catpoop. Oh yeah--the cats went where the catnip went. OOPS! I actually wouldnt mind the music so much of he would turn it up maybe a half decibel louder so I could understand the words! So back to Daemon. I had to squeeze out the front door so he couldnt get out. He was quite upset you see.

The one little flaw in his plan was the business about the thumbs. He was perfect when he found the website where you can order catnip by the bale. Perfect when he dug my credit card out of my purse while I wasnt paying attention, and completed his order online, including printing out the receipt! (I really think Daemon did it to get back at me for making him do his own drawings last week when he took up fashion design for a few hours.) He ordered the catnip, to be delivered by UPS Overnight express delivery, and forgot that he cant open the front door! Yeah--the no thumb thing. He had already started bragging to the neighbors cat across the street that he was going to have an unlimited supply of nip and it was to be delivered the next day. Word got out fast, and so did all the cats.

So there we have it Bloggy. Those cats tore that bale of catnip apart like sharks attacking a box of chocolates after Lent! Oh, I mean ..um..well yes Bloggy, sharks don’t actually eat chocolate or celebrate Lent, but you get the picture. Yeah. Maybe it was more like one of those ”gone wild” videos—you’ve seen them, right? The ones my cousin puts on U-TUBE? Im sure you have—remember  “Pie-Eating Contestants Gone Wild”? Or the latest one “Quilters Gone Wild” ? Well yes that one isn’t such a good example. The UPS guy did tell me to have my catnip delivered by Fed-Ex next time please, as he was afraid for his trouser legs.

Ahh Daemon--that big ego and no thumbs with which to back it up.

Once again,  a cat without a plan. Well not one that works anyway. So I was reminded about all this when the neighbors  (all the cat-owning neighbors that is) came by the house today. Seems that there was a HUGE number of kittens born all on the same day up and down the street and a few streets over too. So odd. A mystery in fact, until some neighbors were chatting,  as neighbors do, and the whole catnip-bale-party thing came out. You would have thought I had a kegger for all the toddlers on my street Bloggy! Its not my fault that screens got ripped out of doors and windows when all the cats got loose! And it certainly isnt my fault all the cats went over to my neighbors yard and had an orgy! He shouldnt have such loud parties!

Give my love to Bloggette and Little Bloggy (see--I remembered not to call him BABY Bloggy)

Rubydoo, Daemon Surlycat, Soprano "got chicken?" Catface, and Spotty Cowgirl.

PS. I still havent found a home for those ants Bloggy, but I am still looking. It was very nice of you to foster them for me until I can find a home where the owner doesnt want to squash them. And yes, it was a surprise to me too just how many there were!

PSS. And yes we are all glad Daemon is going to NA now (Nip Anonymous) for his nip problem. Seems a lot of the cats on my street go to those meetings too now...

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French Cats in Space




Cats are a mysterious kind of folk...-Sir Walter Scott


October 1963, in the Algerian desert, a well-trained, jet-black cat astronaut (catstonaut) is being prepared to take one great leap for Catkind. 

He escapes. 

So.

Another cat takes his place and the mystery begins.

The brave but unlucky cat, equipped with a stylish forehead-mounted transmitter, is launched into space and parachutes down to, if there's any justice in the world, barf in the shoes of every single scientist in France and Africa. 

Mystery:


Was he a male cat named Felix?


These stamps made him out to be male

Mirror image, but still named Felix


Or a female named Felicette?

Check out the signature on this glamor shot
And people wonder why there are conspiracy theories surrounding the Moon Landing.

My Conspiracy Theory

Felix, a black cat was supposed to be the first cat in space, no doubt due to his superior intelligence, which he demonstrated by escaping. The next blackest cat on the roster was brought in to pitch hit. She was a female, so she got renamed Felicette. 

The stamps were ready to go. They didn't change the name on them; they left it as Felix.  And no one put her picture on them either; they just used a bit of white paint to make her face white while leaving the black outline intact.

Conspiracy nut details:
  • Felicette was a short hair, but all the stamps show a long-hair. 
  • The last two stamps show that someone has rather sloppily colored her face in white, but didn't even whiten her chest. 
  • Sheesh, the last two portraits are mirror images of each other. 
  • Whoever did the Chad stamp did a little nicer job, but look at the eyes. That is not the cat in the glamor shot or in the photograph below.


And some details that weigh against my theory: 

  • Apparently, the stamps were issued years after the event.
  • This photo from AMSAT-FRANCE calls this cat Felicette.




So that's what I used to think happened, as I spent about an hour and a half researching this on Google and relying on my high school French. 


Do give my analysis all the weight it deserves. Speaking of which... 

Here are some American cats in zero gravity


Sources: (These sources put you automatically to where the info is. Wanna learn how to link to a specific part of a page? Click here.


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We gets in trouble! Short story.



Twitch and Mr. Kitten Get in Trouble

by the Anchorite and Chris Hugh

Anton Fitzgibbon, Chaircat of teh Internetz, finally cleared his inbox as he had wanted to do for weeks. He decided to check on the news in the human world before going back to his ample workload. He opened his browser and found a blog written by Mr. Kitten and Twitch. Upon closer reading, Anton confirmed his suspicions when he checked the timestamps on their entries to confirm that the two cats wrote their blog posts during work hours.

Anton took a paw to his temple thinking about how those two had by far the worst productivity numbers on the team and goofed off far more than they worked. He knew that they were smart cats with potential. He realized that as a lesser manager would have fired them a long time ago, yet they had atrocious work habits and lacked in professionalism. Anton read accounts of their fancy litterboxes and steak meals and contrasted their stations with his own impoverished youth spent drinking water out of an ashtray and using newspaper like a dog for his bodily functions because he did not have a proper litterbox. Anton worked hard for everything he achieved and had the theory that perhaps these two cats were too sheltered and spoiled for far too long. He tuned out most of their antics, but blogging while on the job was one step too far.

Anton opened the door out of his office and peered into the hallway. He emitted a resonant bellow,

"Twitch! Kitten! Get in here!"

Kitten sat in the outer office, watching impassively as Anton repeated himself for the next hour. Twitch lay beside him, carefully grooming every square centimeter of his glossy coat. Finally, Twitch stood up. He walked a pace toward Anton, then stopped, stretching out his hind left leg. Another pace, and he stretched his right leg. Then he sauntered into Anton's office and onto his desk. After a moment, Kitten burst into motion, his fluffy fur bouncing as he trotted after Twitch.

"Look, you two," Anton said. "I've finally cleared out my inbox and I have something to talk to you about."

Kitten sat on the floor and yawned. Anton focused his annoyance on him. "You, Kitten, have had an easy life. I know you've been blogging on the job. What kind of example does that set?"

Anton hopped down from his desk, being careful not to muss his carefully-pressed, off-the-rack suit. Kitten glanced at it with contempt and Anton strode up to him, nose to nose with the long-haired black cat. "Would you care to shed some light on what you were thinking?"

"Shed, did you say?" Kitten asked blandly. "I'll be glad to." Kitten stood up and brushed past Anton, pressing his flank against him and covering his suit with fur.

Kitten twitched his tail, then turned back to Anton. "Did you say you had just clearned your inbox?" he asked.

Anton sputtered, speechless.

Kitten glanced at Anton's desk just as an unpleasant odor filled the room. "I think Twitch filled it again."

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