CATLAXYthe whole sky, one napping animal
The spiral you live in is a cheek.
Set-list: Things Catlaxy Has Batted Today
Moons, sent skittering like bottle caps; tide charts now look like handwriting. A probe, bonked once, now believes in ghosts; its log reads: "softly impacted by fur." Your sense of scale, rolled under the couch; everything feels either too near or embarrassingly far.
Housekeeping note: if it rattles, Catlaxy has touched it.
Orbit Discipline
A tiny field in the corner keeps flipping through options like a bored traffic cop: Nominal → Wobbly → Doing A Little Circle → Broken. It always lands on Broken. Expect rings to become bracelets, ellipses to shrug, and one embarrassed comet pretending this was the plan.
Purr Level
A meter with thick ticks that jitters when you hover, as if the sound is arriving before the thought. At low hum: dust glitters, radio static warms. Mid purr: whole constellations tremble like a glass on a subwoofer. Redline: background microwave forgets its manners and meows back.
Pet Universe
Press it. Stars ripple outward like a pond. Planets wobble off their tidy rings, scooting back a beat later with guilty little hops. The status badge flips to Purring, obviously. Catlaxy squints, one cosmic whisker twitches, and for three frames the Milky Way admits it's a chin.
