Chronicles of the Cat Distribution System, as meticulously documented by Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV
As documented by Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV Continuing 134 years of meticulous record-keeping begun by my great-great-grandfather
Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV reads the Foreword
I am Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV, great-great-grandson of the original Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers who served as logistics coordinator aboard The Magnificent Meower on that fateful day in 1889. The account you are about to read has been passed down through four generations of my family, each of us serving as Chief Archivist and Nomenclature Compliance Officer at the Iron Whiskers Foundry.
My great-great-grandfather began documenting these events immediately after the incident. His journals, complaint files, and meticulous records form the foundation of our family's ongoing work to preserve the true history of the Cat Distribution System-and to correct certain nomenclature irregularities that persist to this day.
What follows is the complete historical account, compiled from eyewitness testimony, recovered documents, and 134 years of careful research.
-Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV, Current Chief Archivist
In the spring of 1889, the Feline Distribution Cooperative operated a fleet of steam-powered dirigibles to transport cats between cities, managing the global mouse population. The system worked flawlessly-until it didn't.
On May 15th, 1889, The Magnificent Meower departed from the Philadelphia distribution center carrying 200 cats destined for various neighborhoods throughout Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The crew consisted of:
The 200 cats in the cargo basket below were standard distribution subjects: tabbies, calicos, tuxedos, and various mixed breeds, all destined for specific addresses throughout Pittsburgh's neighborhoods.
At approximately 2:47 PM, as the dirigible passed over the confluence of Pittsburgh's three rivers (the Allegheny, Monongahela, and Ohio), Lieutenant Snuggles McMittens experienced what would later be recorded in the official incident report as "an unfortunate nasal event in proximity to volatile fuel reserves."
In layman's terms: he sneezed near the catnip essence fuel tanks.
The resulting explosion released a massive burst of what we now call "Feline Aether"-a previously unknown form of energy that exists in the space between cats and their destined humans. The purple and blue energy engulfed the cargo basket containing all 200 cats.
My great-great-grandfather, Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers, documented the moment in his journal:
"The cats did not fall. Instead, each became wrapped in a luminous cocoon of purple-blue light. One by one, they simply vanished-not with a sound, but with a soft 'floof' of displaced air. It was the most unscientific thing I had ever witnessed, and I immediately began taking notes for the official report."
The crew survived, thanks to their safety harnesses and the dirigible's emergency flotation system. But the cats? Gone. Vanished into thin air.
Within six hours, Dame Fluffernutter McSnugglesworth assembled the largest feline recovery operation in history. Using the brass chronometer tracking collars each cat wore, recovery teams fanned out across Pittsburgh.
The results were unprecedented:
Every single cat was found-but not where they were supposed to be.
And here's what shocked the recovery teams: None of the cats wanted to leave.
Furthermore, none of the humans wanted to give them up. In every case, the cat and human seemed perfectly matched-as if they had been searching for each other their entire lives.
Professor Calculon Von Whiskerbottom, the Cooperative's chief analyst, spent three weeks running calculations on the Cooperative's massive Difference Engine. His findings revolutionized our understanding of feline-human relationships.
Humans, it turns out, emit a form of emotional energy-particularly strong in moments of loneliness, grief, or longing for companionship. Professor Mittens McWhiskers, the brilliant scientist leading our research division, termed this "Human Sad Juice" in his preliminary notes, though I have been attempting to get this changed to "Anthropogenic Emotional Aether Emissions" for the past several decades.
Cats, meanwhile, possess an extraordinary sensitivity to this energy. Each cat has specific preferences: some seek humans who need gentle companionship, others prefer active households, still others desire quiet book-readers or energetic children.
The aether explosion had somehow perfectly matched each cat's preferences with each human's emotional signature-and delivered them with pinpoint accuracy.
The Cooperative's leadership faced a critical decision: Could we replicate this phenomenon intentionally?
Professor Mittens McWhiskers proposed harnessing the aether energy. Lady Cogsworth Wilhelmina Fluffbottom III-our Director of Human Psychology-provided the psychological framework. Captain Horatio "One-Eye" Gearwhisker contributed field operation expertise.
But it was Chief Engineer Isadora Ironforge who made it possible.
Chief Ironforge discovered that the old foundry at the Cooperative's Pittsburgh facility contained a massive iron fireplace with unique properties. The iron had been forged during a rare astronomical alignment, and the structure itself sat within a 10-mile radius of where Pittsburgh's three rivers' energy fields intersected.
Over the next eight months, Chief Ironforge led a team of engineers in an ambitious conversion project. They installed:
The device was magnificent. It was revolutionary. It would change the course of feline-human relations forever.
And then came time to name it.
On February 3rd, 1890, the completed device was ready for its inaugural test. The Cooperative's board of directors gathered for the christening ceremony.
My great-great-grandfather, Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers, had prepared a thorough proposal. He presented a 47-page document suggesting the name "Precision-Calibrated Empathic Resonance Transportation Matrix and Feline Distribution Apparatus, Mark I."
Chief Engineer Isadora Ironforge listened patiently to the entire presentation.
Then she stood up, looked at the device, looked at the assembled directors, and said:
"It's a fireplace that goes 'floof' when it sends out cats. I'm calling it the F.L.O.O.F.E.D.-Fireplace Logistics for Orderly Outbound Feline Expedited Deliveries."
The entire process took her exactly fourteen minutes.
The board approved it immediately.
My great-great-grandfather filed his first official nomenclature complaint that very afternoon. Our family has continued the tradition ever since. I myself have contributed complaint numbers 48,000 through 52,847.
The inaugural distribution took place on February 10th, 1890.
A small orange tabby named Mr. Whiskers Von Fluffington was selected for the test. The cat was placed near the F.L.O.O.F.E.D.'s warming platform, where he was exposed to carefully controlled aether energy. The system analyzed his preferences: he liked gentle petting, warm laps, and humans who read books aloud.
The F.L.O.O.F.E.D.'s compatibility algorithm cross-referenced this with every lonely human within a 50-mile radius.
Seventeen seconds later, Mr. Whiskers Von Fluffington vanished in a soft purple glow.
He materialized on a park bench next to a 73-year-old librarian who had just been thinking about how quiet her house had become since her children moved away.
The match was perfect.
In the 134 years since that first successful distribution, the F.L.O.O.F.E.D. has facilitated over 2.3 million perfect cat-human matches. The system has been refined, improved, and expanded-though my family notes that certain nomenclature issues remain stubbornly unresolved.
The Iron Whiskers Foundry continues to operate at the original Pittsburgh location, still using Chief Engineer Ironforge's converted fireplace. It remains the only operational F.L.O.O.F.E.D. in the world, as the unique combination of location, materials, and historical aether residue cannot be replicated.
I now serve as Chief Archivist, continuing the work my great-great-grandfather began. Current operations are overseen by Chief McGillicuddy, a capable administrator who at least has the courtesy to acknowledge that the F.L.O.O.F.E.D.'s name is, shall we say, informal.
Of course, not all cats can physically visit the Foundry. In 1923, my grandfather, Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers II, helped develop the Remote Aether Enhancement System for shelter cats.
Using a network of concealed aether amplification devices installed at partner shelters, the F.L.O.O.F.E.D. can remotely enhance a shelter cat's natural aether sensitivity. This creates an "attraction field" that draws the cat's perfect human directly to them.
From the human's perspective, they simply felt an inexplicable urge to visit a particular shelter, walked past several cats, and then suddenly knew-this was their cat.
From our perspective, the F.L.O.O.F.E.D. successfully matched another pair.
The Great Pittsburgh Aether Incident of 1889 revealed a truth that cat lovers have always suspected: there is no such thing as coincidence when it comes to cats choosing their humans.
Every "stray" that appears on your doorstep, every shelter cat that reaches through the cage bars to touch your hand, every kitten that toddles out from under a porch at exactly the right moment-all of it is the work of the Cat Distribution System.
The cats have been in charge all along. We just provide the infrastructure.
Archival Note: This document represents Official Historical Record #1-A in the Iron Whiskers Foundry archives. For information on the F.L.O.O.F.E.D.'s technical specifications, please refer to the Technical Manual (assuming one can overlook its regrettable title).
For complaints regarding nomenclature irregularities, please submit forms in triplicate to Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV, Chief Nomenclature Compliance Officer.
Current complaint count: 52,847 and rising.
-Professor Pedantic P. Whiskers IV Iron Whiskers Foundry, Pittsburgh, PA Established 1889