THE TALE OF THE POLAR GOLDIE CAT
There once was a big, beautiful, friendly, loving, endearing, giving, intelligent, lovely, good-looking, self-reliant, orange marmalade cat. It was very large, a large cat indeed. It took great care in all of its accomplishments, but one day, as it was crossing a four-lane road with a self-watering median, it got hit by a car and died.
Its body was sent flying into the middle of the divider where it lied for weeks. There it lay dead, safe in the world [sic], in the middle of the median, experiencing the daily cycle of sun-up, sun-down, moon-up, moon-down. The daily self-watering lawn cycle of on in the morning, off during noon, on at twilight, off at dusk, created another cycle which bloated the dead cat's body with liquid. Then the sun would come up and bake the fluid off and the body would shrink and begin to shrivel. The liquid at dusk would not get evaporated but rather, during the dark hours, would acquire a light, frosty edge. The evenings were almost reaching freezing temperature. After a few weeks or months and some days, the body was gone.
The body had disappeared. It was gone because someone had moved it. Upon the cat's death, a supersonic tracing device was activated where-upon a colony far, far up in space was notified that Polar Goldie Cat was dead. Immediately a search was conducted on the tracking device and the members located the body on a dividing median on a road in a city called Valencia, Home of the Golden Oranges. A team formed and armed themselves against the evil forces of Earth with large padded jumpsuits, which blew up larger in the event that anything touched them before they touched it. An intent governing suit, engineered by the finest Goldie Cats of the Far North, was considered essential to the recovery of the all-being cat. Why wouldn't Polar Goldie Cat itself don the super suit? That question remains to be answered. An evil trickmaster most likely lurked behind that aspect of this monstrosity.