Saturday Afternoon

Dear Mom, Dad, and all my brothers and sisters back on Whisker Prime,

I hope someone is remembering to sleep in my favorite sunbeam by the eastern window. Don’t let Cousin Marmalade have it. He knows perfectly well it’s mine.

Space is much bigger than the old maps said.

When I left, Captain insisted we’d be home in three weeks. It has now been eleven months, four days, and… I think… seven naps. Time works strangely when your ship travels faster than light. Sometimes Tuesday happens twice, and sometimes breakfast comes after dinner. I have decided not to question it.

Our first stop was a blue world that had been covered almost entirely in water. The fish there are enormous, but unfortunately, they all live underwater. Whoever designed that planet clearly dislikes cats.

The next planet had purple grass that purred whenever you walked across it. At first, I thought it was challenging me for territory, so I puffed up and hissed. Turns out that’s just how it says hello. We get along now.

Then there was Planet Xyloph. Everything floated.

Imagine trying to chase a laser pointer while you are floating, the laser is floating, and the mouse you’re chasing is floating upside down while politely apologizing for existing. I eventually gave up and spent three hours batting moons around instead. The captain wasn’t pleased. Apparently, moons are “protected cultural landmarks.”

Oops.

I have collected souvenirs.

One shiny meteor pebble.

Three feathers from birds with six wings.

A tiny bottle containing liquid starlight. (Don’t shake it.)

And one hat.

I don’t know who owned the hat. It followed me onto the ship. I think it may actually be alive.

Don’t worry. I named him Gerald.

The strangest place we’ve visited is Planet Nox.

No one there speaks.

They communicate entirely by blinking. Whole conversations happen in silence. I accidentally told their mayor that his grandmother smelled like old tuna because I blinked at the wrong speed.

Fortunately, they also express forgiveness by rolling down hills.

It was a very long afternoon.

I’ve learned many things on this journey.

Some of the stars can sing.

Clouds you can nap on.

Libraries where every book writes itself while you’re reading it.

Planets where gravity changes depending on your mood.

And somewhere beyond the Orion Drift, there is an old orange cat who has been exploring for over three hundred years. His fur has turned silver around the whiskers. He says every galaxy has one perfect sunny windowsill if you look hard enough.

I think he’s right.

Sometimes, though…

I miss home.

I miss the smell of fresh catnip in the gardens.

I miss chasing dust motes through Grandma’s attic.

I miss hearing Dad pretend he doesn’t like cuddles before falling asleep with one paw around all of us.

Out here, space is beautiful.

Nebulas bloom like giant flowers.

Comets race across the darkness like playful kittens.

Galaxies spin so slowly you almost don’t notice until hours have passed.

But no matter how beautiful another world is…

…none of them smell like home.

The captain says our next destination lies beyond a cluster of newborn stars. No ship from our world has ever gone that far.

I can’t wait.

I also can’t wait to come back and tell you every story in person.

Please tell little Pebble that I finally caught something faster than the red dot.

It was a comet.

(It got away.)

Until then, keep my cushion warm.

And if Gerald the Hat turns out to be laying eggs, I’ll explain everything when I get back.

With love from somewhere between the stars,

Commander Mittens
Chief Explorer, Professional Nap Specialist,
Finder of Impossible Things,
and still your favorite space kitty. 🐾✨