Cats In Space

June 20, 2013

Last July my cat went to space.
It went like this:
Every cat had to write his or her name on a piece of paper
and send it in a sealed envelope to Washington DC.
I had named my cat Doctor.
In the White House, every cat in the whole country
(who hadn’t run away to Canada)
had their name on a small piece of paper
in a large container.

On national television, our president shook the jar.
It really wasn’t very fair because
the papers in the jar didn’t move much when he shook it.
But nobody complained,
and he called 100 names.
Doctor was 99.

I was excited for Doctor.
The next day I went shopping for him.
We bought him a small cat helmet and a cape
just in case.
That night, the neighbors threw a party for Doctor
and a few of the other neighborhood cats who were chosen.
Doctor was very quiet.
During the party, adults tried to discuss the physics of cats in space.
Doctor just purred.

You see, space had a mice infestation
after a disgraced astronaut was caught
nursing a mouse farm on the moon
(he was strange but I liked him.)

On July 4th,
the United States was the declared first country in the world
to shoot 100 cats into space.
Each cat wore a blazing red helmet
and matching cape.
Doctor held his bagged lunch
And purred.

“Doctor,” I said. “Don’t eat too much.”
“You’ll need to be hungry to eat all those mice.”
Doctor purred.

That night I watched the shadows on the moon.
I thought I saw Doctor wave to me.
The president says all the cats are fine
And they’ll be coming home soon.
Doctor is fat with dead mice.
I am lonely.

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