saber964 wrote:cthia wrote:Dicey is one biiiig pussy. Methinks Dicey's eating the dog's food and the dog is too much of a pussy itself to do anything. Much blame him? That cat's in the RMN!
The treecat's missing link.
Dicey is one big kitty, IIRC he's 114 cm long plus IMHO he's a gray tabby also.
Dicey is a Maine Coon:
Italics are the author's.Storm From the Shadows, Chapter 9 wrote:Michelle accepted her beret from Master Steward Billingsley and started to turn towards the door and the waiting Admiralty air car when she paused suddenly.
"And what, Master Steward, might that be?" she asked.
"I beg the Admiral's pardon?" Billingsley said innocently. "What 'that' would the Admiral be referring to?"
"The Admiral would be referring to that 'that,' " Michelle replied, one forefinger indicating the broad, prick-eared head which had just poked itself exploringly around the corner of a door.
"Oh, that 'that'!"
"Precisely," Michelle said, folding her arms and regarding him ominously.
"That's a cat, Ma'am," Billingsley told her. "Not a treecat, a cat—an Old Earth cat. It's called a 'Maine Coon.' "
"I'm well aware of what an Old Earth cat looks like, Chris," Michelle said repressively, never unfolding her arms. "I don't believe I've ever seen one quite that large, but I do know what they are. What I don't know is what it's doing in my mother's townhouse."
Actually, the townhouse and its landscaped grounds belonged to Michelle now, not to her mother, but it was Caitrin Winton-Henke's home, even if Michelle did have most of a wing reserved for her private use whenever she was on Manticore.
"Well, actually, Ma'am, he's mine," Billingsley said with the air of someone making a clean breast of it.
"And just when did this monumental change in your status as a parent take place?" Michelle inquired just a bit acidly as the rest of the impressively large feline ambled into the foyer.
"Day before yesterday," Billingsley said. "I . . . found him wandering around over near the Master Chiefs' Club. He looked like he needed a home, and he walked right up to me, and I couldn't just leave him there, Ma'am!"
"I see," Michelle said, looking into his guilelessly wide and innocent eyes. "And would it happen that this hulking menace to all mice, hamsters, chipmunks, and unwary small children has a name?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I call him 'Dicey.' "
" 'Dicey,' " Michelle replied with long-suffering resignation. "Of course."
Billingsley continued to look as if butter would not melt in his mouth, but the name was a dead giveaway of how his new pet had really come into his possession, Michelle thought, looking at the enormous cat. It was the first terrestrial cat she'd ever seen who looked like he probably came close to matching Nimitz's mass. Not only that, but 'Dicey' was a good twenty centimeters shorter overall than Nimitz, and although he was definitely a long hair, he was nowhere near as fluffy as a treecat, which made him substantially bulkier. One ear had a notch that looked like someone else had taken a bite out of it, and a scar across the back of his burly neck left a visible furrow in his fur. There were a couple of more of those on the left side of his face, as well, she noticed. Obviously, he'd been to the wars, yet there was something about him that reminded her irresistibly of Billingsley himself, now that she thought about it. A certain endearing disreputability, perhaps.
She glanced at her new flag lieutenant, who was observing the entire scene with a laudably professional and serene expression. There was, however, a certain almost subliminal twinkle in Lieutenant Archer's green eyes. One that boded ill, she decided. Clearly "Gwen" was already succumbing to Billingsley's incorrigible charm.
Much like a certain admiral you know, perhaps? she reflected.
"You do realize how many regulations there are against having a pet on board one of her Majesty's starships?" she inquired out loud after a moment.
"Regulations, Ma'am?" Billingsley repeated blankly, as if he'd never heard the word before.
Michelle started to open her mouth again, then gave up. A wise woman knew when to cut her losses, and she didn't begin to have the time it would take to make a dent in Billingsley's bland innocence. Besides, she didn't have the heart for it.
"As long as you understand that I'm not going to put any pressure on anyone to allow you to bring that beast along on our next deployment," she said, trying womanfully to sound firm.
"Oh, yes, Ma'am. I understand that," Billingsley assured her without a trace of triumph.
"
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