The gallant crew of the U.S.S. Fluffy Tail

Another morning, another blog post not even started yet. Now I face a choice. Wear clean clothes to work or write on the blog.

Hello dirty clothes!

Plumb out of ideas, I asked my wife for a random topic. She said, “cats.” So here we go!

In space no one can hear you meow…

Ship’s Log, U.S.S. Fluffy Tail. Stardate 3.1415 rounded off to the nearest decimal point. We’re proceeding dangerously close to the neutral zone on our mission to map gaseous anomalies in sector Felinictus. So far no sign of Dog vessels. Meanwhile, my engineer says we’re running low on milk

The attack came out of no where. We had no warning. As the ship rattled I sprang from the ready room to the bridge.

“Report!” I demanded.

There was no answer. I turned to find Commander Morris, Science Officer. “Dammit, cat, what the hell do the scanners show?”

Unfortunately Morris was napping. No wonder they took us by surprise, I thought. But who are they?

The ship shuddered as we were hit again. “Mr. Felix! Get those shields up!”

Felix looked up from licking himself and eyed me. If looks could kill. Then oh so casually he lowered his head and resumed his attention on his privates.

Think! There has go to be something I can do.

“Mr. Whiskers. Charge weapons! Get a lock on the enemy ship! Prepare to fire on my command!”

But Mr. Whiskers didn’t respond. “Dammit, cat! Quick pawing at that blinking light. Battlestations!

Ship’s comm was demanding attention so I leaped back to my chair and punched a button. “Tomcat here.”

“Engineering, Captain,” said Binky, my Chief Engineer. “I know this probably isn’t a good time, but we’re now completely out of the bloody milk. My poor wee bairns.”

I was in trouble and I knew it. I needed advice and fast. I punched another button on my chair. “Sickbay.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when my hail was answered. “Bonsey, here.”

“Bones, something is wrong with the crew. None of them are doing their jobs. Is there any medical reason that might explain that?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Tommy boy. What do you think, heh heh?”

“Bones! Dammit! You been in that Saurian brandy again? I need you!”

“Naw, Cap’n. Just some catnip we picked up during our last trip around the moons of Nepeta Cataria, if you know what I mean.”

We barely made it to our escape pods just in time, only to land on the nearest planet within the neutral zone that was already colonized by those damn scurvy Dogs. Why did I ever ask Starfleet to approve an all-cat crew? Oh, wait, there goes a small quadrupedal rodentia. Tomcat out!

2 responses

  1. Tomcat…I bet they sent cats into space. Know they did dogs, monkeys and something else…

    Like

    1. Poor kitty cats in zero gee. Ever see a kitty jump and misjudge a slippery surface only to slide right off? I’ll bet that’s how they’d react in outer space.

      Like

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