Lost. Cat. (Cat? Probably a cat.) Last seen hovering 4 feet off the ground in the radio station bathroom. Reward if found. Welcome to Night Vale.

###

It’s been almost five months since I’ve seen my cat, Khoshekh, and I’ve been all around town posting signs and talking to neighbors. I tried going door to door, showing people a photograph of Khoshekh, but usually they just screamed “Get that away from me,” as they clutched at their bleeding eyes. It all seemed so hopeless.

There were a few false alarms. I got a couple of calls, but when I went to meet the people who thought they had found my cat, they would proudly hold up a woodchuck, or a hobby horse, or in one case, a bucket of mustard. And I would have to say “No, that’s not my cat. It’s also not a cat. Also, why do you keep your mustard in an uncovered bucket?” And these people would look sad, not for me and my lost cat, but because they realized they didn’t know what a cat was. Well, all except the mustard guy. He wasn’t sad. He was really proud of his bucket and wanted me to see it.

But there was one call that seemed like a good lead. My old intern, and the former mayor of Night Vale, Dana Cardinal, told me that there’s a new Cat Park in town. “People are allowed in the Cat Park. Cats are allowed in the Cat Park. You should approach the Cat Park,” Dana suggested, and I did.

More soon.

###

But first, let’s have a look at sports.

The Night Vale Spiderwolves defeated the Pine Cliff Lizard Monitors 4-3 in extra innings last night. Left-fielder Justin Montemayor hit a game-winning RBI double in the bottom of the 10th. The sold out crowd exploded in cheers as the winning run crossed the plate.

It was also Kevin James Appreciation Night at Municipal Stadium. The first 2,000 attendees received a free Lee Marvin bobble head doll, because that's all they had in stock. They didn't actually know that Kevin James would be showing up until about an hour before. So the Spiderwolves marketing team went into a panic about how to honor and promote Kevin James's appearance at our tiny, minor league ballpark.

Kevin James arrived atop a 20-foot-tall float, decorated like the Hollywood Sign. Joining him on the float were his King of Queens co-stars Leah Remini, Ludacris, and Buddy the Golden Retriever who can dunk basketballs.

James tossd the ceremonial first pitch in front of a frenzied crowd, with one side of the stadium chanting PAUL BLART. And the other chanting back MALL COP. And then everyone chanting in unison: TIL DEATH DO US BLART. Which was clearly a loving tribute to James' most famous film franchise "Die Hard."

Tomorrow night, the Spiderwolves host the Red Mesa Ant Carpenters, who currently lead the Cactus division. It's going to be Mountain Derision Night at Municipal Stadium. The first 2,000 attendees will be required to shriek obscenities at the distant hills.

###

More on my search for Khoshekh. I found the Cat Park. It’s in the exact same location as the Dog Park, but you have to approach it from precisely 18 degrees north northeast. If you do it right, it’s a Cat Park. If you don’t, you’ll be arrested.

The Cat Park was less exciting than I thought it would be. It was a small patch of stinky carpet with a couple of shredded futons. There were no cats there. Only humans calling out their cats’ names. They had all brought their cats to the Cat Park thinking they would run around and play with the other cats, maybe fetch frisbees and tennis balls. But it turns out cats get scared in new environments and tend to either hide or run away when stressed.

These distraught cat owners also had not seen Khoshekh, but at least they sympathized with my plight. They suggested going to the Animal Shelter. I mean, I’d been to the Night Vale Animal Shelter several times looking for Khoshekh, but it couldn’t hurt.

“It could,” someone replied, “if you were to cut yourself accidentally, like on a razor wire fence.”

“Or if you broke a bone,” someone else said, “while trying to do a cool kick flip.”

“Yeeesss,” the cat owners all agreed in a perfect A-flat-major chord. [NOTE TO JON: not necessary, but if it were easy enough to layer and tune Cecil’s ‘yes’ into this chord, then do it.]

###

Let’s have a look now at traffic.

There’s an overturned 18-wheeler near exit 23 on Route 800. It’s not wrecked, it’s just upside down, traveling at a normal speed. But a lot of onlookers in other cars are themselves flipping over and wrecking. It’s unclear if this is happening because they looked at the 18-wheeler, or if it would have happened anyway. But as my statistics professor back in college used to say “Correlation is just a fancy way of saying Causation.” So I think we know what’s going on here.

If you’re driving on Route 800 right now, close those eyes.

###

So, I went to the Animal Shelter again. It’s a nicer place than you think it’s going to be, and they manage to move the animals on to adopting households pretty quickly. The supervisor of the shelter, Harmony Lincoln, is very proud of this fact. I agreed that this was impressive and asked them how the shelter was able to keep pets from staying for long.

Harmony said about once a week City Council comes into the Shelter, filling their many long, bony arms with lost dogs and cats, and groaning “Huuuuunnnnggrrryyyyyy.” And Harmony will have to tell them every time that, yes, your new little fur babies will get very hungry. You should feed them about a quarter to a half cup of dry food each day, and don’t forget their dental treats. The City Council will then roar and rush out of the shelter clutching all those tiny squealing beasts to their single heaving body.

“Wow,” I said. “Sounds like you’re doing great work, Harmony.”

They added that the Shelter just began some new initiatives to help their animals get jobs.

“We dress them up in little suits,” they said, “And give them helpful interview tips like ‘Be a good boy’ and ‘Be the bestest bestest boy.’”

I asked Harmony once again if they had seen Khoshekh, but they still hadn’t. I sighed and started to leave, but Harmony stopped me and handed me a business card. On the card was printed “Tonya Mortensen: Animal Psychic”.

I had no idea that was a job, but at this point, I’ll try anything to find Khoshekh.

###

And now a community update. There’s a new fountain in Grove Park designed by acclaimed conceptual artist George Dunham. In the center of Dunham’s convoluted, post-structuralist fountain is a bear wearing a tuxedo jacket but no shirt or pants. Dunham controversially believes bears like attending black tie galas, but they do so pantless. When irate zoologists explained to him that this was factually incorrect, he said "it is my truth." He then reminded us that the Federal Reserve took the English language off of the gold standard in January 2017, and all words now are simply fiat tokens attached to no tangible meaning. Words are only worth whatever we believe they are worth.

The zoologists then nodded at Dunham and his jacketed, water-puking bear in the middle of our beloved public park, and together they all celebrated truth being freed from government regulation.

###

Now, about this animal psychic. I met Tonya at her home in West Night Vale, and she was kind and welcoming. I brought all of the items she told me to bring:

· snips of Khoshekh’s hair

· strips of his molted skin

· a photo of Khoshekh

· Khoshekh’s favorite toy, which is bumper from a 2007 Jeep Grand Cherokee

· And some catnip, of course.

Tonya took my hands in hers and we began to call out to Khoshekh, but nothing happened. I wasn’t disappointed because I didn’t really expect anything to happen, but then Tonya said she could hear something. She asked me if Khoshekh is French, if he is into fine art. I said, he’s a cat. How should I know? She asked me if he likes to steal things. I said, well, he was always at a fixed spot four feet off the ground, so maybe he likes stealing things, but he wasn’t ever able to.

Tonya said Khoshekh is quite special. He’s more than he seems to be. She said he’s not just a cat, but a man with an exciting past full of heists and secrets. And I could tell she was just trying to make me feel better. I’m sure she tells all heartbroken owners the same thing about their pets.

“Cecil,” she said, “animals are idiots. The smartest of them are barely as sharp as a 4-month-old child. Being a pet psychic is usually tedious because every pet’s brain is just filled with random gargles and grunts.

“But Khoshekh,” Tonya continued. “His spirit is far more compelling. I cannot perceive where he is, but I see… I see sunflowers. I see water lilies. I see bowls of fruit. I see lonely people in a diner. I see melted timepieces. Does any of this make sense to you?”

“No,” I said. “I just don’t believe in this kind of thing. I need specifics, not vague imagery.”

Tonya asked if there were any other cats in my household. I told her about the other 3 cats that are in the radio station bathroom. She got excited and said “Take me with you. I will ask them!”

And so we came together to the radio station. I’ll tell you about that in a minute.

###

But now it's time for the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. Did you know there exists a planet of awesome size lit by no sun? An invisible titan, all thick black forests and jagged mountains and deep, turbulent oceans.

Scientists have never published information about this planet because they do not believe it is there. They do not disbelieve it is there, either. They simply do not believe, because they do not have proof of it. The scientist I interviewed this morning while getting our child bathed and dressed said, “We do not learn through faith but through skepticism. We rely on faith for the things we do not wish to be skeptical about. If we are to affirm the existence of this planet of awesome size, then we must begin with skepticism.

“Also, did you remember to pick up paper towels yesterday?” this scientist, who wished to remain anonymous, concluded.

I said “of course I did” as I kissed the unnamed source on his cheek. I then countered that it sounds like some scientists, no matter how thorough their research, do not listen to their husbands' radio shows, as this planet of awesome size has been mentioned several times.

"Yeah, I’m sorry, hon” this particular informant told me. “I can’t catch every show.”

"It's okay," I said. "I still love you, my anonymous source."

So here are the facts we know for certain about the planet of awesome size lit by no sun.

One: We have never seen it.

Two: We know it is there.

Three: We will see it one day.

But hopefully not soon. This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

###

So I took Tonya to the washroom here at the radio station, where Khoshekh used to live.

Ugh. Sorry. Where he used to reside. He still lives. I know it. I know it. I don’t know it, but as my old Philosophy Professor used to say “Everything you believe is true and correct.”

Anyway, I showed her the other 3 cats: Mixtape, who I named, he’s my favorite; Larry Leroy, who Larry Leroy named; and Potato, who looks and acts like a potato.

Tonya tried her darnedest to talk to them, but still got nothing about Khoshekh’s whereabouts. All Tonya was really able to tell me was that these aren’t the cats’ real names. Tonya said Potato’s real name is Anissa [rhymes with Clarissa], and that Larry Leroy’s real name is Jeremiah, and Mixtape’s real name is Rafael, though he likes Mixtape better than his birth name.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Tonya, I really appreciate all that you’re doing, but this…”

She interjected with the word “Silas!”

I didn’t understand.

“Khoshekh’s real name is Silas,” she said. “And he’s living with a witch. She’s with him in a room. A hotel. Many miles from here.”

“Tonya,” I sighed. I was so tired of this. I said, “Tonya, thank you. But I think Khoshekh is simply missing. That’s all. My show is starting. I can’t be late.”

So I paid her, and she left. And here I am, doing my show, feeling sad about my missing cat. I might never get closure. And I have to accept that. I have to---

Wait. I hear something. It’s a meow. It’s several meows. Coming from the restroom. Khoshekh.

Listeners. I gotta go. Here’s some weather.

[far off mic] Khoshekh?

### WEATHER ###

Well, sadly, it was not Khoshekh. It was the other cats making a racket because the human, Larry Leroy, came to see his cat, Larry Leroy. He comes by every day to feed his little Lare-Bear. “There there, Lare-Bear,” he always says as he cuddles his floating pet cat. I shouldn’t have let myself get so excited. I knew Larry would be by today. I always know that, but I can’t help dreaming that Khoshekh is still out there. Somewhere.

Anyway, I talked to Larry a bit, told him about Tonya and the Cat Park and all the futile work I’ve put in trying to find Khoshekh.

“Sure am sorry, old friend,” Larry said. “But you know, cats truly are something else.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.”

I don’t always know how to respond to vague conversational clichés like that. I know he’s just trying to be friendly and understanding, but it doesn’t feel that helpful.

“Guess so?” Larry bristled. “There’s no guessin’ to it. Cats are something else. There’s literally no such thing as a cat. What we know as ‘cat’ is some other person or animal that got placed into a new body of a nonexistent creature.”

“But if we can see cats. Lots of cats, everywhere,” I argued, “then how are they not real?”

“Little Larry Leroy in there,” he said, “used to be an MC, but he lost the wrong rap battle. You know it goes in hip hop,” Larry said, as if I know at all how it goes in hip hop.

He continued: “Some cats are cursed humans. Some are humans who made a weird wish. Some are dogs who were not good boys at all. Some are mice in a clever disguise. Basically, Cecil, you shouldn’t trust cats. You should love them, but never ever believe what you see.”

I asked what Khoshekh was, if not a cat. Larry shrugged and said “I hope you get the chance to find out, old friend. I really do.”

Then he said, “Say, I never thanked you and Carlos for coming out to that art show with me last year. That was a lot of fun. If you’re interested, there’s a new exhibit just opened at the Big City Museum of Art.”

Larry said there were some classic masterpieces in this collection.

I told Larry Carlos and I were actually planning a trip to The Big City soon, and we’d love to check it out.

“Can’t wait to hear about it,” Larry said. And then he added, in a low voice, while darting his eyes about, “If I were an art thief, I might want to steal me some of these beauties.”

Well, I’ve never stolen anything in my life, I assured Larry. I don’t plan to start now. But, you know, as my Physics professor loved to say “Past performance is not an indicator of future results.”

We both laughed the empty laugh of small talk, and then we went our separate ways.

I still miss Khoshekh. I always will, but it’s time to begin the process of acceptance. Accepting that he’s not coming back. I’ll go mad thinking otherwise.

Thank you for listening. Having someone hear my story really does help my healing.

Stay tuned next for More Music Than You Can Shake a Stick At, our new show that encourages listeners to hopelessly shake sticks at songs.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

###

PROVERB: As Franklin Roosevelt once said: “The only thing we have to fear is goblins. What’s with all these goblins?”