“A black cat. A nation in danger. A world at war.”
That’s the back cover copy on my copy of Blitzcat, a book about one of the bravest and most loyal warrior cats in all of literature. This cat didn’t just do her normal cat work of keeping people’s spirits propped up in war-ravaged England. No, little Lord Gort had to cross England looking for her person, changing lives and become a fighter-pilot cat on her way, among her many anti-fascist exploits.
Although it seems unlikely that a war story based on a cat will end up well, Blitzcat pulls you in faster than a pawful of claws, and soon you will be fully behind the story’s main character, the black cat Lord Gort, who proves that a cat authentically-drawn can carry the central role in a novel narrative. Bravo to author Robert Westall for giving the world a truly-great feline literary figure for the ages, and for all ages. Don’t let the Young Adult sticker fool you, Blitzcat is plenty appreciated by young and old alike.
Got a favorite cat in literature? Drop a comment below so all us cat-loving readers can check it out.
A futuristic train in Japan will feature air brakes shaped like cat ears that retract like cat nails! Of course, the retractable-claw cat-ear air brakes are superior to all the brakes people have made without involving cats’ design ideas, proving that cats should be consulted more often in the design-phase process.
What does it mean that a train of the future borrows so heavily from feline technologies? Is this early evidence that cats are on the cusp of improving our lives Big Time?
A minor point: Cats take no responsibility to the disco-tights quality of the train’s exterior. For that, I think you can thank manga.
Learn about the cat’s forthcoming bullet train here.
I just located a lost bit of cat history that you will not want to miss. I’m sure you’ll agree, this Viking Kitten footage pretty much clears up who the first cats in North America were. Please, nobody show this to my Maine Coon, Brody. He already has a wide stripe of blitzkrieg in him, and I’m not prepared for the gory consequences of outfitting him in the traditional garb of his peeps. Not to mention how his hats will all stop fitting him after his head grows to overlord proportions.
Having laid a foundation for the Self Help for Cats paradigm, it’s time to introduce you to the stars of the show: Brody and Herman Panther. These are the scoundrels shown hard at work/sleep in the above banner photo. Notice how they are on top of their paperwork and reading. Without these two, Self Help for Cats would be nothing at all.
The talented duo have already been featured in several newspaper articles for their incredible contributions to me, their collaborator, medium, archivist and main patron.
In the Self Help for Cats book, you will read about how Brody’s Maine Coon Cat ancestors shaped their own destiny, with romantic stories about going half-wild in New England, later kicking butt at the first American cat shows, and, later still, losing out at the same shows to prissy, “precious” breeds. The Main Coon didn’t let the public’s finicky attitude for felines get him down, no: He boarded a train to California to sire, a few generations removed, the brilliant nut-cat I found one day at the San Francisco SPCA.
It’s just part of the story behind the Self Help for Cats movement, one piece of the puzzle that adds up to the fact that cats and people are on a collision course with destiny. We sit on the verge of the lip of a whole new future, a new age in which cats and people collaborate on levels that right now we can hardly even begin to imagine.
I know this seems unfathomable to you, but trust me, with the steps and exercises in the Self Help for Cats book, redefining your felines’ future is going to be simple as pie.
Cats have really scratched their way to the top in America, and now it’s totally normal to even see a cat or two working in the White House itself! But what our nation’s First Cats have and haven’t accomplished once they Made It to the highest domicile of Western power only serves to reveal the entrenched obstacles remaining for catus politicus—aka Politikitty.
It shouldn’t be any surprise that the president who broke the cat barrier at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was that Union-loving, controversy-generating character known as Abraham Lincoln. Ole Honest Abe just couldn’t wait to let his little pal Tabby loose to shred Van Buren’s loveseat and the like. Continue reading