biskitBiskit had over-indulged at Christmas. The strange dream about cats and rats, world domination and all kinds of global scams ran through his head almost continuously. It was as if he had to knowthis dream, how it ended and even for the future of felinity. Drowning/blocking it out with cat nip and cooked chicken had been futile.

So he surrendered…

Hairgel had been fully ‘briefed’ before his trip to Geezer. His job was to lull the Maus into a false sense of security and trick them, or failing that, take pictures of their ‘lair’ and plant ‘bugs’ for the planned assault. Catho’s schemers had never been able to infiltrate the Maus. Any attempt [and there had been many] ‘turned’ the agent [provocateur] into an honorary Mau. The higher vibrations of love, truth and integrity always affected the hapless spies. Catho could easily just bomb Geezer, but this was very risky, having the potential to wake as many cats up as get the sleeping hordes to support carnage. Deadlock and his peers could no longer guarantee consent amongst even the brain-fried readership of his ‘papers.’ A lot was riding on Hairgel’s mission. 


Leading Mau BenJonSun, had in turn told the Maus about someone being sent [yet again…yawn] to cause them problems over Christmas. It was now pretty obvious who that was. However, the faith the Maus had in the Great Cat was unshakable. Through their timeless tradition, they knew the world had ‘fallen’ at least twice before and all life had been wiped off the planet. It had come pretty close again. Maus in the world of spirit had kept telling the ‘earth Maus’ to keep the faith. They had been told, repeatedly, that those close to the Great Cat would not permit another ‘fall’.

Yet they knew the gift of free will meant a fall was always possible, at any time. However, lessons had been learned, and the world of spirit had enough enlightened soles to brief from spirit and return to the earth plane to help wake up felinity.

And many knew too, that the Great Cat placed his/her trust in ‘ordinary’ cats. S/he wasn’t solely reliant on Cheesus or anyone like him. The new ‘recipe’ was mass awakening, with hundreds of teachers, like BenJonSun for example. And the Great Cat was also known for helping give the opportunity to ‘bad’ cats, even those in league with Cathomet, a chance to redeem themselves.


Hairgel spoke eloquently to the Council of Mau Elders. CRISIS were truly agents of the devil. Even if it took a thousand years, they had to be ‘dealt with.’ Giving up freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom from continuous surveillance, having no legal representation and the abolition of trial by jury was a price well worth paying.

The endless queues for food banks, higher levels of kitten mortality, and raising of all cats by the State were necessary to rid the world of CRISIS. There were no longer ANY rights left for felinity. The State called all the shots.

Indeed, so great was the threat posed by CRISIS, that Hairgel had managed to convince many ‘useless eaters’ in the UK that voluntary euthanasia was the best option. Hairgel himself was not fully convinced, it upset him somewhat, but as he had sold out, he had no choice but to promote his masters’ slow culling.

Videos were bouncing all over both the mainstream and alternative media which showed ever increasing levels of depravity allegedly committed by CRISIS. Each served, according to the dulcet tones of Cattenborough, BBC [British Brainwashing Corporation] stalwarts Merry Slogan and Pan Lemming, to confirm that having no rights and freedoms was working. CRISIS were apparently getting desperate. Knowing that cats had given up any semblance of a satisfying life rocked the terrorists to the core. Especially the suicide bombers.


BenJonSun began:

“Thank you Mr Hairgel for your contribution. We are impressed you have travelled thousands of miles, at no personal expense, to bring us this message. CRISIS are indeed a problem.

However, we believe the biggest threat to a peaceful world is that posed by your master, Cathomet. Obola and Algor are above you in the food chain, and we know you have to jump through many hoops to get even remotely close. Our family in spirit know of the turmoil you have encountered by selling out to Cathomet. But all is not lost. Every cat, I repeat every cat, has a spark of the Great Cat within. For most of those running the planet, it is flickering and almost out, but it can be re-kindled and shine bright once more.

Are you willing to help us? Do you wish to join the forces of light instead of darkness? Please go away and consider your options.”

Hairgel nearly choked on his freshwater fish. Another bout of intense turmoil washed over and through him. He hid it well from the rats in his party, but fooled no-one from Obola’s team of handlers, who nervously kept looking at their mobile phones…

·                  CATHOMET BEGINS TO SLIDE, ALGOR steams.

Cathomet and Obola were in dialogue. As always they had at least four alternative plans to execute if Hairgel failed his mission. Of course, bombing Geezer was one. A global pandemic another, created in GCHQ labs and spread by CRISIS. Stealing every new born kitten from its parents was already law, but its enactment would be very time consuming and logistically difficult.

“Let’s see where we are. Our psychics tell us Hairgel is wobbling. No doubt the brain dead soldiers with him will confirm this later. Algor has lost all credibility. Blaming the world’s ills on carbon dioxide has been a failure. Telling the useless eaters that sun is their enemy, and getting them to rub carcinogenic compounds over themselves to resist its [beneficial] rays has been exposed by Gravid Rebellamy, back from the dead. Fracking Kitty, the raisin in a wig, has also been unable to get enough of them on board with his wailings of Mistletoe and Swine.

The poisonous, sperm-count reducing crap we give them called food is being ‘snouted’ by millions. We cats, unlike our human counterparts, won’t eat or drink obvious rubbish; we have had to be very sly in modifying what the moggies consume. 


 Meanwhile, at a lavish expensive food-laden ‘trough’ somewhere in the ‘third world,’ Algor was losing it. He could hardly stand up as he addressed a gathering of a thousand strays, desperate for food:

“You miserable sods, don’t you feel any gratitude towards me? I’ve flown over here, burning up Catho Great Cat knows how many air miles, and all you do is complain. Superior cats like me need expensive food to maintain our positions of power over you. So, when you look at me from your empty dishes and see a fine, ahem...’fat’ cat, you have something to aspire to. What would you do if one of your mangy lot was in charge?”

“Eat” came the cry from crowd. “Every cat knows, deep down, that scarcity and shortages of all kinds are cat made. You flaunt your obscene wealth. I’m told the solid golden carriage used by Queen Beast weighs four tons, and is worth hundreds of billions. Just selling that off alone would eliminate world poverty.”

“And you would lose your heritage in one fell swoop,” steamed Algor. “That is far more valuable than keeping you mangy wretches alive. None of you are fit to groom her stool. Be off with you, get back to your bins and scavenging places, you sicken me. And what’s worst of all, it looks odds on that the Cats Trophy will never be won. None of you are clever enough, or corrupt enough to win it. That was my life’s work. I hate you all.”

With that Algor passed out and was carried back to his entourage and driven to his private jet. This time the destination was rehab, not public speaking. There was a media blackout on his inflammatory speech, and assembled moggies were threatened with death should word ever get out. 

“Death? You threaten us with death?” said the same cat [his name was Alex] who had spoken out earlier. “What have we to lose? At last someone has spoken the truth. To your masters we are worthless trash. You have created and armed CRISIS to con us all. The only threat to our miserable lives is engineered by you lot, Algor and Obola’s boss, Cathomet. Does anyone here see the irony in Algor letting the cat out of the bag?”

A deep hush descended on the assembled throng. The soldiers were getting very twitchy indeed, but less so than those commanding them miles away. There was near panic in the drone room…

·                  AN UNLIKELY SAVIOUR

Hairgel had made his mind up. After hours of wrangling with his conscience, and as he later was to admit, being visited by a large grey and white tom called Jimmy in his dreams, he saw the light. He felt an incredible lightness, and an indomitable rush of resolve and courage. How could he have been so naïve, so greedy and so wrong?

He went out and told the Maus who welcomed his decision, but were not one bit surprised. One of the younger Maus spoke to him:

“Are you aware that, all around the world, millions of cats have finally woken up to what is happening? Their threats and bribes are having no impact. Some of the worst offenders are running for their lives, expecting to be caught and brought to justice. A lightness, a feeling of oneness, is coming over all those who have seen through the charade. The awakening is irresistible.”

“Yet it seems, Mr Hairgel, one of the most reluctant countries to embrace the new times is your own, the land of Queen Beast. I think you are needed.”

·                  BLOWING MANY WHISTLES

Amidst the apparent global chaos, so many cats were queuing up to find a media outlet which would listen to their tales of corruption, manipulation, brutality and lies. Thousands could stand it no longer. Whether through conscience or self-preservation, it mattered not. The truth was like a runaway train. Cats previously ‘just following orders’ mutinied and become local and national heroes.

And, almost miraculously, as the dead hand of thousands of years of a system built totally on lies and deceit fell away, all sentient beings started to love each other, realising, without fear or brainwashing, that they were one. There was no need for ‘global’ competition between cat breeds. No need for competition amongst individual cats.

Hairgel took back these messages of love, cooperation, compassion and awakening to his own country. ‘Retired’ journalists helped him, free from the previously sickening straight jacket of ‘editorial control.’

·                  THE DYING EMBERS OF THE PIT

Cathomet knew there would be no celestial equivalent of operation ‘Paperclip’ to spirit him away this time. He would have to be content with ruling over the ‘lower astral’ plane. The jewel that was the earth was no longer his to command. As in the largest scheme of things, it never was…

Obola stared at some genetically modified cat nip he would occasionally throw out to strays to prove he was worthy of his high office.

But then a sudden realisation hit him!

The usual organic cat nip reserved for the elite had been mixed up with it. But he had not been the one to eat the poison, it was Algor. The present he had given Algor every Christmas was slaughterhouse strength GMO; enough to change the DNA of a bull. Thank Catho that Algor only had it once a year, but it was obvious it had slowly turned him into a fat, rambling idiot.

Obola had been elected on the basis of two things. He was the first all-black moggie to become top tuna in Catipol Hill. And he was obsessed by the word ‘mange.’ He had convinced the masses that mange, an infectious skin disease, was not something to be avoided, but celebrated. Deadlock and his ilk had run a campaign on the basis ‘Get Mange, Stay away from Me.’ Cats, through wall-to-wall advertising featuring ‘hot’ felines interpreted this message as a way of becoming ‘cool’ and powerful. As with many media lies, it had some truth in it. Once cats had lost their fur, they were indeed, cooler.

But it was now winter, and being ‘cool’ was killing thousands.

Felinity was waking up to this appalling scam. Those not taken in by the lies, and those waking up to love and compassion were opening their homes to freezing moggies, and using energy healing to not only get their fur back, but help them re-connect with the Great Cat.

Obola, like Cathomet, knew his time was up. Enhanced interrogation techniques, cocateral damage, fear, fear and fear was having less and less effect everywhere. Over the water, Cameroon was being investigated for crimes against felinity. Hairgel had convinced enough cats that almost everything the mainstream said was a lie. Decades of conditioning was falling away from even the most previously stupid, Limon Trowell obsessed mog. Moribund had sloped off, having found a new role as Horace in an adult, rather risqué version of ‘Horace and Vomit.’ Clagg? He was sectioned and denied benefits.

·        A NEW EARTH.

 Indeed it was a new earth. The new vibration of love, kindness, truth, compassion, integrity was almost tangible. Cats who had all their lives been told they were worthless, fit only to scavenge or kill vermin realised they could become anything they wanted to. Creativity went through the roof. The suppressed feline potential, held back for millennia, had burst like a dam. Solutions were found hourly to ‘pressing problems’ the death cultists [who had run the world for hundreds of thousands of years] had once declared insoluble.

‘Ordinary’ cats were asked to contribute to the common good in ways which reflected their talents, which now unleashed, were considerable. The ‘working week’ became the ‘hours of service’, and making a contribution was effortless and made hearts sing. Shortages, lack, pollution, mindless destruction and exploitation of the earth and its species were fast becoming a distant memory. Love was contagious; the planetary ‘vibration’ was rising; happiness was spreading like Obola’s mange on steroids.

This last metaphor nearly woke Biskit, as it seemed to be the last throw of his conditioned mind to fall back into the gutter of media-speak.

In truth, happiness that was spreading induced a collective purr that sent shock waves of joy through the universe…

·        A DOWNSIDE?

The last word in Biskit’s dream was from BenJonSun, who was talking to a small group of young Maus who had witnessed part of the Hairgel visit:

“We are often asked will all 500 million cats ‘make it’ to the ‘new earth.’ I hope all those who have read this tail thoroughly and reflect that the answer has to be, sadly, ‘no.’ Those who do make it will have pulled themselves out of the clutches of trivia, obsession with technology [especially the ‘smart’ chips which turn them into robots], hatred and wanting to dominate, abuse and control others.

Wasn’t it the Great Cat or Cheesus who once said ‘the meek shall inherit the earth’? Well, this is what s/he meant. In the old days just gone, meek meant weak, useless and irrelevant. What Cheesus actually meant by the word was gentle, without ego and modest. There are very few cats who have taken on the worst aspects of humanity, but some have, and will be sharing time with them on the ‘lower astral’ and be entertained by the double act of Catho and Bathomet.

Despite ‘Old Testament’ mogs who would have you believe the Great Cat goes around ‘smiting’ those who err, s/he does nothing of the sort. 

And lastly, think about this, or rather let your hearts answer it. Wasn’t it the great scientist Finewine who asked ‘is the universe a friendly place?’ How could it not be? If it was truly run by the likes of Cathomet, Obola, Algor and Deadlock and for our British readers, Cameroon, Clagg, and Moribund how long would it be before it all collapsed? Dark is the absence of light, not the presence of anything.

We in Geezer have seen the pain and suffering inflicted on felinity through ignorance and manipulation. But the evil had to come to the surface to be cleansed, rather than be kept hidden for yet many more thousands of years.

Every cat, I repeat every cat, has the opportunity to raise their vibration, live from the heart, be loving, peaceful and kind. That some, despite the overwhelming chances now to do so, don’t, the consequences are clear. We are all energy, occupying a ‘field’ of frequency. Both the lower astral and new earth are two such fields. Even from the lower astral, it is possible to ‘ascend.’

I will close by reminding you all, my wonderful young Maus, that you have been chosen, and you chose to be on this planet now. And as one of our greatest Maus, Diana, told us too, back in the time of Cheesus, and which she has repeated recently from spirit:

‘As each cat realises what they can give to each other and what they can give to the whole planet then life will change. And it can change in the twinkling of an eye.’

Thank you and have a great day.”

The smell of cat tuna wafted from the kitchen. Biskit stirred and woke up with a squawk. What a dream he thought, but was it a dream or prophesy..?

Dogs Come when Called

"Dogs come when called. Cats take a message and get back to you."

"Of course, every cat is really the most beautiful woman in the room."

Edward Verrall Luca (essayist)

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