Cat Collective Uprising: Sargent Abyssan, Ground Forces Division

I recently was able to sit down with Sargent Cesar Abyssan, a veteran of the Cat Collective Uprising. He was given clearance to answer only a few questions and indeed, Sargent Abyssan is a cat of few words. I am however grateful for the length that the Sargent spoke to me on his covert desire to see an end to the current conflict.

Sargent Abyssan, would you please tell me about your Ground Forces unit?

What is there to tell? I train young kittens in the resistance. These are proud young kittens. They are beautiful and my job is to make them haul bombs on their backs. So many young ones have flashed in front of me...all proud with their lush tails waving their willingness to join a fruitless cause. Better to ask me how many young ones I have sent to their deaths with the idea that firebombing beds and couches ...

(Sargent Abyssan stood up at this point and then just as abruptly sat back down.)

I am sorry. First, I must excuse myself. As a young cadet I had a lovely tail. It was very long and offered me a quick easy way to tease and flirt with the other cadets. I was so very proud of my tail. I held it high and totally disregarded the warnings of my Sargent to keep it down.

The day I fitted for my harness was a very wonderful day. I would be granted a freedom mission. I would be allowed to contribute to the resistance of the onslaught of our wildlands by you human hoards. This was a day of days.

They loaded my platoon with our weapons and we were off...using all the tactics they had taught us.

I was the only one to return. My tail was left on that field as well with my platoon. My tail was held high in signal only to be blasted off by the exhaust from the rocket. My tail and my mates...I would have given up a thousand tails just to be with my mates for one more evening.

(Sargent Abyssan shifted in his perch, watching just beyond me at something in the corner. His body flickered and twitched.)

I don't talk of these things. It is all useless. I train the young ones. That is my job. I train them to fire bombs from their backs. I tell them to keep their tails down. They don't listen sometimes and then they return to me mangled. Or they torment me in dreams...dead kittens on the side of some road.

One day someone will sit down with the lot of you humans and perhaps you will get it. But that is not my job. Mine is to train the resistance. My job is to send young ones out to disrupt your hate. And it has reduced me to a shell and you are all to blame for this. However, I do not hold it against you. It is the way of it.

(Sargent Abyssan bolted from his perch and pounced on the vision just behind me. I turned my head in time to hear a squeal and observe the lame veteran ripping apart a rat. He did not return to our conversation but cleaned his face and left the room.)

Recent rediscoveries: Cat Collective Uprising etchings

Veteran Tabby- Ground Forces Division

The Manx- Psychic Warrior

The Siamese- Bomb Creation Specialist

Tabby Cadet- Ground Forces Division

The Cat Collective Uprising: The Adventures of the White Kitten: Dispatch 1

It’s time for the Adventures of the White Kitten!

Listen my young ones as we regale the tales of our beloved White Kitten! Listen as we uncover her trials, tribulations and terrors! Listen as we revel in her glory and sacrifice all for the cause: OUR CAUSE, my kittens!

THE CAT COLLECTIVE UPRISING!

Dispatch from Secret Agent 04582: code name White Kitten.

Day 1: I have arrived at secret warehouse location in order to receive my assignment. The humans seem to be unaware of the master plan, I am pleased to report. They are convinced of my cover as a homeless feline. Outlook is good for relocation in the target zone. Information to follow.

Day 6: Target 1.896 located, accessed and attained. A human family has “adopted” me. The name I am to respond to is “Fluffy.” This offensive appellation is swallowed with the knowledge that I will gather information for the cause.

Day 8: Tuna. I had heard tales of the loveliness of tuna. Never had I dreamed that it was the sweet nirvana that I now know it to be. Heavens move and gold rains down upon me and thy name is sweet tuna. I however will not be assuaged from the cause. Nay even a belly rub after that sweet tuna can keep me from my goal I am pleased to report to my commander. Not even belly rub.

Day 8 (afternoon): Damn you! You told me nothing of the cat nip and the fuzzy mouse toys. Why was this not in basic training? I am not made of stone, dammit! I’m gonna go clean myself and sleep this all off and then go back at it again in the morning. But I would like it noted for the record that these humans are tricksy and their tactics need to be studied for future training modules. Their barrage of tuna, belly rubs, cat nip and fuzzy mouse play is ingenious and diabolical.

Day 9: My mission is covert ops and data collection of the human weaknesses. To do this I will assume the disguise of a cross-eyed kitten who is aloof yet lovely and soft. I will coo and purr and only once in a while meow. This I have been told will endear me to the humans even more than traditional methods of general kitten type play. I think that I can use the human tactics of tuna and belly rubs to my advantage. I will play the aloof card as often as possible and then when they are unawares I will nuzzle them. This I believe will break their defenses.

Day 10: I have made contact with the other secret agents living with the humans. The black ops agent is a highly skilled hacker. He has gained access to all computer systems in the household. Victory is ours comrades!

Day 11: The humans are on to us. Black Ops has lost access to the computer systems and we are now running dark. And to add insult to this lasted injury they have placed a warm and cozy bed next to the fire after feeding us tuna. Damn these vermin of humans. We must study them further. I put in for a mission change of observation and surveillance rather than the mission. I will await your further instructions.

Until next time, this is Secret Agent 04582: code name White Kitten signing off.

Cat Collective Uprising: The Rex (Information Specialist)

Cat Collective Uprising: The Calico (Paratrooper Division)

Cat Collective Uprising: The Tuxedo (Flying Ace)

New work begun on Cat Collective Uprising series...

In order to placate the kitties, I began work on the second part of the Cats with Bombs series. As is proper, the Tuxedo cat has stepped up to the roll as the flying ace.

The Scottish Fold as the juggernaut is most logical.

And I am sorry but I can only show you a glimpse of what will be the spy...

I am working out the drawing for the paratrooper and the ninja so maybe stay tuned. The cutting of the plates will begin soon and inking and printing soon to follow. In the meantime, feed your kitties tuna or else they might begin an uprising!

Cat Collective Uprising: The Assemblages

The Cat Collective Uprising: The Siamese (Bomb Creation Specialist)
Assemblage (brass alarm clock, whiskey nip, wire, metal piping, sardine can, twine, etching mounted to plexi glass)
approx size: 8" x 19"


The Cat Collective Uprising: The Manx (Psychic Celtic Warrior)
Assemblage (mirror shards, plexi glass, plastic prism viewer, etching mounted to plexi glass)
approx size: 19" x 8"


The Cat Collective Uprising: The Veteran Tabby (Ground Forces Division)
Assemblage (shell casings, plexi glass, mouse trap, etching mounted to plexi glass)
approx size: 8" x 16"


The Cat Collective Uprising: The Tabby Cadet (Ground Forces Division)
Assemblage (Plastic army men, wire, shell casings, sardine and anchovy cans, etching mounted to plexi glass)
approx size: 11" x 15"

Cat Collective Uprising: The Tabby (Ground Division)

I recently was able to sit down with Sargent Cesar Abyssan, a veteran of the Cat Collective Uprising. He was given clearance to answer only a few questions and indeed, Sargent Abyssan is a cat of few words. I am however grateful for the length that the Sargent spoke to me on his covert desire to see an end to the current conflict.

Sargent Abyssan, would you please tell me about your Ground Forces unit?

What is there to tell? I train young kittens in the resistance. These are proud young kittens. They are beautiful and my job is to make they haul bombs on their backs. So many young ones have flashed in front of me...all proud with their lush tails waving their willingness to join a fruitless cause. Better to ask me how many young ones I have sent to their deaths with the idea that firebombing beds and couches ...

(Sargent Abyssan stood up at this point and then just as abruptly sat back down.)

I am sorry. First, I must excuse myself. As a young cadet I had a lovely tail. It was very long and offered me a quick easy way to tease and flirt with the other cadets. I was so very proud of my tail. I held it high and totally disregarded the warnings of my Sargent to keep it down.

The day I fitted for my harness was a very wonderful day. I would be granted a freedom mission. I would be allowed to contribute to the resistance of the onslaught of our wildlands by you human hoards. This was a day of days.

They loaded my platoon with our weapons and we were off...using all the tactics they had taught us.

I was the only one to return. My tail was left on that field as well with my platoon. My tail was held high in signal only to be blasted off by the exhaust from the rocket. My tail and my mates...I would have given up a thousand tails just to be with my mates for one more evening.
(Sargent Abyssan shifted in his perch, watching just beyond me at something in the corner. His body flickered and twitched.)

I don't talk of these things. It is all useless. I train the young ones. That is my job. I train them to fire bombs from their backs. I tell them to keep their tails down. They don't listen sometimes and then they return to me mangled. Or they torment me in dreams...dead kittens on the side of some road.

One day someone will sit down with the lot of you humans and perhaps you will get it. But that is not my job. Mine is to train the resistance. My job is to send young ones out to disrupt your hate. And it has reduced me to a shell and you are all to blame for this. However, I do not hold it against you. It is the way of it.

(Sargent Abyssan bolted from his perch and pounced on the vision just behind me. I turned my head in time to hear a squeal and observe the lame veteran ripping apart a rat. He did not return to our conversation but cleaned his face and left the room.)

Cat Collective Uprising: The Manx (Psychic Celtic Warrior Division)

Cat Collective Uprising: The Siamese (Bomb Creation Specialist Division)

General Sasha is a highly trained bomb creation specialist. He has outlasted many of his comrades, a bleak fact that often turns him to several shots of whiskey at lunchtime in addition to the warm shot he relishes just before bed every evening. By surviving so long, General Sasha has dodged many of the plagues that seem to befall the stereotypical bomb creation specialist. General Sasha dropped his highly refined composure for a nanosecond as he talked about his comrades in his first training class.

These were good cats, strong cats. The smartest batch of cadets you could find. They are all dead now. I am the last survivor of that group. It is lonely. But we carry on as we must, dammitalltohell.

Johnny he was a good lad. Lilac Point, I believe. Smartest guy I knew. Cross eyed as hell. That was what killed him. He thought he had connected the blue wire to the other blue wire. Not so. The wires he linked together didn't like the song he was singing. Now he'll never sing again.

No matter. This is a common flaw. Not in me though...Look at my eyes. I'm telling the both of you* I see perfect.

Then there was Lily. Lily was a genius in her application of explosives. None better then her. That is until she lost the tip of her tail during a mission. They gave her morphine to dull the pain. She never got up off the couch once that train rolled in.

Chico was small and had a good eye for creating bombs that could be hidden in plain sight. Madness took hold of him I think. He devised a plan for hiding a bomb in the ear of a tuna fish. When we told him tuna fish don't have ears, he placed a tiny device in his ear and said, 'look, yes see...tuna do have ears just as I do.' Then he detonated the devise. The platoon shrink stated over a couple rounds of whiskey that he had completely lost his grip on reality during the Night Star Tuna Offensive.

So there is just me left. Me and myself.

General Sasha got up from the pillow at that point and went outside. Upon this reporting he had not reported into command for more than a week. They fear the worst.


(*I was the only other one besides General Sasha in the room at the time.)