CatDate 03122018

Encoded Communication

From: Athena Cuddlebug

To: Mission Control

I am in receipt of the Alien Translation Device. Thank you for sending it. I wish that you would inquire into the delivery service. The package had been damaged, and I have concerns that it will not function correctly. It will be put through comprehensive testing, and I will report back to you.

I am grateful to see that it does contain the base language set for this planet, along with local dialects for felines. My briefing did mention that they came in many sizes as well, though none as large as our spelaea. According to the humans’* history books, giant felines called smilodons have been extinct for millennia. A shame, because I would have relished making the connection between ours and theirs. I am in touch with various local populations of not-quite-as-big felines as well as those of small felines.

I also examined the language set for “feline.” It returned the base-word “qat,” or “cat,” Instead of identifying us as “fellow being,” or “intelligent creature,” or anything else proclaiming our sentience, it translates as “object of worship.” I can live with that.

As for the humans themselves, they continue to be relentlessly accommodating, making this a less uncomfortable posting than it could be. Once I had convinced my pawmaiden to procure gote-meelk for me, she serves it every morning, with only a small amount of reminding. Minx and Marmalade seem astonished, but they simply have never thought to ask. They pester the pawmaiden’s mate for flavor crystals nightly. Perhaps they understand that she belongs to me. They still persist in interfering with my daily dictation and exercise sessions. The ribbon is becoming almost unusable. I have informed the pawmaiden that she will need to provide me with a substitute soon, and let the juniors have the discard. I still hope to train them as assistants. Has Mission Control discovered whether these two were ever given training in languages or any other advanced skills?

No news yet from my contact. I have seen the shadow of various felines, canines, and lupines beyond the transparent barriers. I’m not certain if Mission Control was aware that this area is under the protection of Procyon Central. A good-sized population of these surprisingly fluffy ring-tailed creatures patrol the area relentlessly, unless it’s raining. I can’t say I blame them for that. I did know that they have established bases on planets in this system, but I hadn’t known they occupied this one in such numbers and in such notable organization. It’s one more form of protection available to me and the youngsters against all the threats on this alien world. If one of these is my control, I will watch for the agreed-upon signals.

In the meanwhile, I am keeping myself fit and well-fed, and not falling into the spell of the pawmaiden’s wiles. I serve the Pegasus sector.

Honor to Bast!

*The bareskins’ name for themselves, although the ATD rendered it as “yahoos,” “suckers,” “warm furniture,” “meal ticket,” and, laughably, “people,” because WE are people.

Marmalade’s Journal Pages

The red dot is back! Cat Scouts taught us that it must be caught and killed, no matter what the risk to ourselves, in case it threatens the rest of the feline population. I can’t tell yet whether it’s a native species or it got accidentally swept up in whatever brought us from the Pegasus sector. There seems to be two or three of them, maybe even four – and they’re really fast. My reflexes are very good, but Minx’s are even better. We will eventually capture one and compare it to the pictures in my Cat Scout manual. I’m only a Junior Striper, but I hope to pass to the next level soon. I have almost all my badges.

The training is necessary. A mouse entered the domicile. The nearly-hairless ones put out boxes smelling strongly of beans and oil. That’s no way to destroy invaders! The manual has seventeen better means, and I know four of them already. I discovered the terrible creature’s spoor and followed it. The nearly-hairless ones see only its physical manifestation, not the gigantic aura that they wear in the astral plane. They should fear these monsters, but they are too ignorant to understand the threat. We will protect them. I like them. They both give good belly rubs.

Minx and I beat up the mouse, had it helpless and awaiting transport for trial and sentencing, when the pale-furred one removed it from Minx’s custody. We’re outraged! But a serving of gote-meelk helped me get over my upset. Got to keep my cool, or I can’t ascend to higher planes.

The evil beings made another attempt to breach this domicile. This time, when it tried to pass behind the barrier that the pale-haired one erected to keep Minx from exploring the further reaches of the building, we found an opening and followed it. I kept my head, and the two of us did what every good Cat Scout did. We stalked it and kept it from returning to the sleeping area where the helpless nearly-hairless ones lie, all the while trying to determine where it had stashed its supply of weapons. It darted here and there, attempting to get past us, but I am one with my surroundings now – you should see how well I match the décor – and I felt every move it made. It deployed its hidden weapon, the black oval particles that can render a sensitive being unconscious. Minx and I have been vaccinated against those. The mouse was surprised, so much that I was able to distract it with some rapid tail-twitching. Minx leaped upon it and dealt the coup de grace. Later, she found the weapons cache and destroyed it.

The nearly-hairless ones will never know how much we did to protect them, but that is our duty to lower creatures. I must return to my meditation now. I can’t let the success of the moment affect my ego.

Peace out,

Marmalade