Rain, rabies, and ridiculous returns. This week’s mood? Bureaucratic despair with a side of soggy capitalism. But hey—we’re still packing, still protesting, and still clinging to the dream (and maybe a cat).
Tag Archives: #cats
Volume IX: The Suitcase. The Sorrow. The Smothering.
There is a suitcase in the hallway.
Rodgit has vanished. Poe is acting… cuddly.
Akela Jean Underland does not approve.
In this week’s Catdiva Monologue, she processes the scent of betrayal, the encroachment of affection, and the growing threat of something called “Thailand.”
Elegance endures. Trust does not.
The Velvet Revelation: Mowgli’s Blanketisms & Butt-licking Truths VI
Rodgit has vanished. Mowgli has not.
In this week’s velvet lament, our Blanket Prophet chronicles the bitter ache of feline abandonment. From ceremonial meows to silent thresholds, justice is sought, warmth is withheld, and trust is—once again—flushed like a forgotten Dreamie.
Absence isn’t silence. It’s strategy.
The Catanic Verses VII (A Guide to Feline Religosophy)
Rodgit is gone. The bowl is full, but the cushion is cold.
This week’s Catanic Verses ponders the ones who vanish when it matters most.
Trust, like tuna, does not reheat well.
Scroll 15.11 reminds us: if they only arrive for sunshine, they were never truly yours.
Poe ‘Vices
They chose layout over love. Fonts over family. You? They left you on read.
Introducing the Zine Abandonments Recovery Kits™ — for cats discarded in the name of literary pursuit.
Includes a tear-absorbent blankie, guilt-activated chicken button, and the dignity you were denied.
Because this isn’t a phase. It’s emotional print neglect.
Dispatches from the Void. V.II
This week in Underland: emotions ran high, the zine went live, and the cats were… unimpressed.
Poe staged a silent protest over font choices, Akela launched a full investigation into the suspicious movement of the red chair, and Mowgli may or may not have forgiven Rodgit (the jury is still napping).
Also, we might be moving. Probably. Eventually.
Volume VIII: The Zine, the Rodgit, and the Rains of Betrayal.
“Then they published it. Then they were happy. Oh you should have seen it. Such betrayal. They hugged. Each other of course. I… I was not included.”
This week, Akela Jean Underland reflects on emotional neglect, soggy flirtations, and suspicious furniture movement. The zine has stolen her mothers’ affection, Rodgit has returned (again), and something unsettling lurks beneath the damp.
The Catanic Verses VI (A Guide to Feline Religosophy)
“The wheels of betrayal turneth not, lest they be chicken-shaped and rolling toward revolution.”
In this week’s Catanic Verses, silence is sacred, meows are weaponised, and Poe rides a golden chicken straight into the centre of papal drama. Featuring velvet robes, suspicious eyebrows, and a firm reminder: speak less, flop more.
Poe ‘Vices
“He named himself after big cats? Leo Kings of the universes. Wooooah.”
This week, Poe responds to a panicked Traditionalist who fears the Pope has gone soft—and possibly woke. Enter: the velvet-draped feline theologian, riding a golden chicken straight through the Vatican. The Clucksmobile is real. And so is the chaos.
Dispatches from the Void. V.II
Forgiveness is a process — especially if you’re a cat. This week, we navigate birthday dread, garden triumphs, and the slow but surreal shift toward our future in Thailand. There’s wine, weed wackers, and a temporary job at (possibly fictional) Amazon. Honourable mentions were won. Sausages were offered. Love, as ever, persists.
