"Orange cats happen to have a hilarious reputation for not being the brightest of their species. Anecdotes aside, such links between kitty coloration and cognition are scientifically unsupported, with no obvious negative consequences from this mutation in health or mental wellbeing.

Arhgap36 is known to cause developmental problems in other animals when it is over- or under-functioning. But it seems that in orange cats, the gene is overexpressed only in developing and mature pigment cells called melanocytes."

https://www.sciencealert.com/secret-of-orange-cats-finally-revealed-after-60-year-search

You have no doubt heard that all the orange cats everywhere share a single braincell between them all. But maybe you’ve never wondered where that one braincell came from, or how they got it. For it is written that long, long ago, or maybe last week, or maybe never, all the orange cats of the world lacked even the one braincell they now share amongst themselves. So let me tell you, child, the tale of the finding of the braincell.

Once upon a time, all the orange cats of the world lived out their lives, ate their noms, and made their biscuits with no braincell to call their own. Nothing was really different, but it felt different. Imagine how you would feel if you were trapped in a cave for your whole life without knowing what day it was. But you believed that one day, you never knew just when, it would be Christmas. Now imagine you still lived in the cave just like before, but instead, you knew that Christmas would never come. That’s how all the orange cats everywhere felt without a braincell to call their own.

One day, no one remembers just when, a mighty hero of orangekind decided to take matters into his own paws. His name might have been Desher. Or maybe Xanthos, or Flavius, or Breone, or Nacho. He forgot; he had no braincell. But the name doesn’t matter. So he left his home and his human and headed west. Or it might have been south. Or east; he wasn’t exactly sure. But the north wind saw him in a field and decided to have some fun at his expense.

“What are you doing here, oh hunter with the sunset pelt, and with so stern a look upon your face?” the north wind whispered through the grass at his feet.

“I’m looking for the braincell, whatever that is,” the orange cat replied.

“I am prepared to give you one of my own braincells, but first you must beat me at zoomies.”

Now, the orange cat prided himself on his zoomies and accepted without question. He zoomied for what must have been hours, and at last, when he was all zoomied out, he proudly told the north wind to beat that. So the north wind blew up a gale. It seemed as if all the leaves in the world were flying this way and that, but still she blew. Trees started to uproot and blow away, and still she blew. The orange cat was holding on to a stone as if his life depended on it now, because it did, and he thought his orange fur would all be blown away. Finally, the north wind tired herself out. But the orange cat just said that he had meant to let her win, and kept on walking.

After a long time, it might have been days or weeks, or hardly any time at all, he came upon a sight he had never seen before. It was a lion made of stone. As he stared with his saucer eyes, the lion looked back with eyes that never blinked.

“What are you doing so far from home?” the marble lion asked.

“I am looking for a braincell to call my own,” the living cat replied, “and to share with all orangekind.”

“It just so happens that I have one to spare... if you can beat me in a nap-off!”

The orange cat knew that no one in the world could outnap him, so he curled up and was out in no time flat. He napped and he napped. He napped for what must have been days. Weeks, even. And when he finally got up and stretched, there was the stone lion, exactly where it had been when he started. He asked the lion to hand over the braincell, but it made no reply. So he waited. And he waited until the sun came up. And he waited until the rains fell. And he waited until the snows flew. And he waited until the flowers bloomed. And at last, the lion woke from his marmoreal slumber. He asked the orange cat why he’d waited so long when it was clear that he’d lost the nap-off, and the cat said he just wanted to be sure.

“I like your style, my little friend. I heard a song about a braincell across the farthest river. What’s more, if you hurry, you might just make it,” the stone lion said. “Good luck!”

So on the orange cat walked, not knowing which way the farthest river lay, or even what a river was, but he walked on anyway. He wanted that braincell so very badly. After a lifetime of walking, or maybe only a little while, he found that he could walk no farther, for there was the river, dark under the new moon. The orange cat put one paw into the water and said, “Nope.” But as he looked at the cold, dark water flowing by, Old Man River rose from the depths and asked him what a cat was doing near so much water. The orange cat said he’d come to swim the river and find his braincell, but now that he was here, he didn’t want to get wet.

So Old Man River said to him, “If you can catch the mightiest fish in the river, I will give you a braincell of my own.”

The orange cat said, “No problem,” but as he wandered up and down the dark banks, he wondered ever more and more how he would catch any fish in the river without getting wet, let alone the mightiest one. Just then, there was a terrific splash, and a crash, and a whoosh, and the orange cat had to jump for his life. He hissed, and he spat, and he swiped with his claws, for there, on the bank, with a lunge and a leap, a fat and loathsome catfish had lodged itself in the mud, thinking to gulp down a foolish orange cat who had got too near the water. But it had lunged too far and was now stuck in the mud. So the orange cat started making biscuits on its head, and he called for Old Man River to come and give him his braincell at last.

Old Man River rose from the dark depths once more. As the orange cat purred, pleased with his catch, the river whistled and said that it was a fine fish, but it wasn’t the mightiest fish in his river. The orange cat said "Yes, it is". And then Old Man River told him to look closer. And as the orange cat looked down into the still blackness of the river, he saw the flaming stars mirrored in its depths, and right in front of him was great Pisces, reflected in the water. He took a feeble swipe at it with his paw, but the ripples ran away and the orange cat knew he’d been tricked again. He said that that wasn’t fair, and Old Man River told him that life never is, especially when you have no braincell.

But then the old River Man's tone softened, and his words came like a stream in an arid land. “Go home, little one, for you’ve been gone a long time, and your human misses you.”

Then the orange cat cried, and he knew he would never have the braincell. At that moment, he was the saddest cat in the world. But he turned around without another word and headed for home. The going wasn’t hard, for it was just like falling asleep. Or like waking up. And before he knew it, he was sitting on his own doorstep, asking if he could come in.

And the door opened, and the warm light of home streamed out, and there was his human standing in the doorway. And the orange cat just said, “Hi.” But the little girl squealed with delight, snatched him up as if he were a treasure, and told him that he was such a good cat, and such a *smart* cat for finding his way home after so long. And in that very moment, in his own house, in the arms of his own human, he knew that he’d had the braincell all along. He snuggled in closer, but she booped his snoot, and just like that, the braincell was gone.

For you know that there were many other orange cats who needed the braincell. They needed it to try to out-zoomie the wind, or to kill the scary monster, because every orange cat is the hero seeking the braincell.

Our fat one braincells boy

Hi, Pooh Bear family! 🧡

Pooh’s assistant here. We’re on our way home with your Pooh Bear, Cashoh, after his follow-up eye appointment. He also threw up bile yesterday and today. 😔

The good news is that his stitches are healing well. His left eye is still a little concerning, though, and he may need another entropion surgery. The vet prescribed an eye ointment for him.

His hard cone was rubbing against his neck and left a sore mark, so I put his soft cone back on today. The vet also suggested trying to remove the cone while watching his reaction and giving him gabapentin to help him stay calm.

My heart feels a little heavy today. I just want our sweet boy to feel comfortable and heal. Please send him some extra love, gentle kisses, and healing wishes. He needs a little more love from his Pooh family today. 🐾🧡

With love,
His assistant

The little humping thing. He's not trying to fuck me, right?

“Why would y’all lose when I had the outfit on?” -Muffu

She's three and has had the dishonor of watching me catch and bring to perish a few mice over years.

Notably last spring she let one run past her and spent the next two hours digging for it in the closet long after it had eluded her sweet little heart.

But last night at 5:32 AM she busted into our room with great pride and an almost fully motionless mouse. Awarded with praise and an early breakfast.

5 month old, and a total sweetheart when he’s not zooming at the corners in our house