Kwyndig posted:

Biggles looks like he's a hefty chonker, maybe put him on a diet? Otherwise no complaints, big lad, good lad.

MrYenko posted:

Paperclip is a fuckin unit.

UwUnabomber posted:

This is my 17 pound monster Brutus. He's a menace.

Here he is teaching his brother Clodius how to growl at squirrels.

UwUnabomber posted:

Willeh posted:

I don't know why we have 2 cat beds anymore

quote:

# The Tale of Emperor Orangian: The Feline Emperor

In the annals of Roman history, few rulers were as peculiar – or as mysteriously absent from most historical records – as Emperor Orangian, the orange cat who held the imperial throne from 230 to 240 AD. His reign, though brief, left an indelible mark on the empire, even if modern historians seem to have mysteriously forgotten his existence.

Orangian's rise to power came during the tumultuous Period of Military Anarchy. The story goes that he first appeared in the Roman Senate house, casually cleaning his paws on the Emperor's throne after the mysterious disappearance of Alexander Severus. The senators, exhausted by years of human political machinations and perhaps inspired by the cat's regal bearing and stunning orange coat, decided that a feline ruler might be exactly what Rome needed.

Under Orangian's reign, the empire experienced an unprecedented period of peace – largely because he spent most of his time sleeping in sunbeams that streamed through the palace windows. His most famous decree was the "Lex Felina," which mandated that every Roman household maintain at least one comfortable cushion in a sunny spot, though historians debate whether this was for the benefit of the empire's cats or simply for his own use during imperial visits.

The emperor's diplomatic style was unique. Foreign ambassadors would arrive at the palace to find Orangian lounging on his throne, occasionally batting at the tassels of the imperial cushions. Many reported that their most tense negotiations were dissolved into peaceful agreements after Orangian would suddenly roll over and expose his belly – though records indicate he never actually allowed anyone to pet it, maintaining proper imperial dignity at all times.

His military campaigns were equally unconventional. Rather than leading armies, Orangian would send his legions in whichever direction he happened to be facing when asked about military matters. Surprisingly, this random strategy proved remarkably effective, as Rome's enemies could never predict where the next attack would come from.

The empire's economy flourished under his reign, primarily due to his introduction of the "mouse tax" – a clever initiative that encouraged the empire's cats to catch mice in the grain stores, significantly reducing waste. He also established the first imperial fish market, though curiously, very few fish ever made it to the general population.

Orangian's end came as mysteriously as his beginning. In 240 AD, after finishing a particularly satisfying bowl of cream, he was said to have spotted a red dot on the horizon. He leaped from his throne in pursuit and was never seen again. Some say he ascended to join the gods, while others insist he simply found a better sunny spot somewhere in the provinces.

His legacy lived on in subtle ways: the imperial seal bore claw marks for centuries afterward, and Roman armies continued the tradition of carrying balls of yarn into battle for good luck. Some ancient texts even suggest that the famous Roman roads were actually inspired by Orangian's habit of walking in perfectly straight lines along palace corridors.

While modern historians may struggle to verify these tales, the impact of Rome's feline emperor remains a fascinating footnote in the empire's vast history.

Hasturtium posted:

Goons, meet Winnie.

Powerful Katrinka posted:

Streaky was officially diagnosed as Orange at the vet.

Hasturtium posted:

Boris Galerkin posted:

what's he thinking about