You have read my tales of the Dead Cat Conundrum, which in years past has caused the human female no end of grief. How to source, buy, arrange shipping for, take delivery of, inventory, and put away hundreds of dead cats at a time. You have heard me relate that, in this realm of Midgard, dead cats for dissection are scarcer than synapses in Thor’s skull. There are no cats to be had. Nary a whisker. Not a whiff of a defunct feline. Not a breath of a mention of passed-on pussies. The scarcity is such that the Anatomy and Physiology classes have adopted a virtual cat dissection software program instead. The human female has not been able to reliably secure even the few cats needed for the upper-level Chordate Anatomy course.
Which is why she was so comprehensively gobsmacked to have received this shipment today. Look, Sigyn! Some dead cats came!
To say that the human female never in a million years expected this would be a big, hairy understatement with training wheels and a blue felt fedora.
I mean, look at when this order was originally made!
Eighteen months! That just might be a record!
If I didn’t think her dorky visage would traumatize everyone, I’d attach a photo of her with her mouth hanging open in slack-jawed befuddlement.
The best part of this bit of mischief is that this order was made with BAMN, which is long since defunct. The human female and the departmental bean counters are going to have to find some way to PAY for these tabby cadavers with some without a functional open PO. Ehehehehe!
I’m betting I can stretch this out a little longer, so stay tuned…