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by Dana Vickerson

“Mama sat with me by the windowsill a lot when Daddy was sick.  She told me to watch for a ship that would take us home and make him better.”

If Mama doesn’t get up soon, we’re going to miss our chance to get off Mars.

Mama is a human, but I call her “Mama” because she says I am her baby kitty and her special boy.  She is sleeping, but I am hungry.

It’s a delicate art, waking up your human. If you’re too eager, they’ll likely get cross with you, and while Mama is a sweet and kind soul, I do not like to see her cross.  If you are too gentle, though, your human is likely to continue their blissful sleep while you sit on the floor with a rumble in your belly. 

So, like most mornings, I start today by walking back and forth across my human’s pillow.  This is less startling than just going right for patting her face.  The soft rhythm of my paws around her head signals to Mama that it’s time to start the process of bringing her consciousness to the here and now, where my kibble lives.

She gently pushes me off her head, which disappoints me, but she scratches between my ears, which I love.  I lay beside her head purring, showing her that I appreciate the scratches and she can take her time.

She rolls over to lay her head near my furry belly and continues to scratch me, now under my chin, which I also love.  I purr for what feels like an eternity.

I gently pat her on the face a few times.

Pat.  Pat.

Pat.Pat.Pat.

Mama rolls away from me.  This usually doesn’t happen.  My Mama loves me and is eager to provide me with the proper nutrients I need.  Mama has just been more sleepy than normal lately.

I survey the room for anything that might help aid the process.  Mama has gotten wise to me, and instead of leaving glasses of water by her bed, she’s taken to closed top water bottles.  They make a fantastic sound going off the nightstand, but they don’t make a mess, so Mama usually ignores it.

I spy the empty space next to Mama and decide it’s the perfect place to stage the next part of my plan:  looking so adorable Mama cannot resist me.  Bringing in the big guns, as humans like to say.

I flop over to Daddy’s side.  He is my other human.

Daddy’s side is empty, so there’s plenty of space for me to perform.  I start by meowing loudly.  This alerts Mama that she should pay attention and I’m about to do something adorable.

She rolls back over to me and opens her eyes.  They are very red and puffy.  This concerns me.  Surely she has slept too much and now very much needs to get out of bed.  It’s not only my hunger that will benefit from getting her up, but Mama’s own sake as well.  I meow at her to let her know that she has done a good job rolling over and is now in for a treat.

I flop onto my back and show her my full belly, which is white and very fluffy because of my long hair.  Most of my coloring is black, which goes very well with my bright green eyes, I must say, but my belly and paws are white.  Mama says it looks like I walked in paint.  I do not know what “paint” is, but it always pleases her when she says it so it must be something good.

I stretch my legs out as far as I can, arching my back and poking my belly out.  Mama smiles.  She smiles!  I have not seen Mama do that in days.  This makes me very happy.

Mama reaches her long, lovely fingers out and begins to scratch my belly.  This almost makes me forget I’m hungry.  I love belly scratches.  Mama knows just where to go, too, scratching in that glorious space where my front legs meet my chest.

I purr so loudly that Mama says, “That’s my good boy, Pho.”

I watch Mama as she smiles.  Any minute now she’s going to throw off the covers and exclaim, “Who’s hungry!” Then she will not only give me kibble but the gooey yummy fishy food that comes in the little silver packets.  She does not give me those every day, so on the days I get those I know I am a very, very good boy.

Mama’s eyes drift over to the empty pillow and her smile fades.  She stops rubbing me and rolls back over, pulling the covers up tightly around her head.  Drat.

I roll over and curl up on Daddy’s empty pillow, thinking over my next steps.  The belly rubs generally have the effect of getting Mama up, but today it would seem that I need to get creative.  Drastic, maybe.

My tummy rumbles.

Daddy’s pillow still smells of him.  There is the scent of sweat and an underlying bad smell.  Something my nose does not like.  Mama seems to like it though.  She fell asleep hugging Daddy’s pillow last night.  I can smell her on it, too.  Salty and sweet.  Perhaps she misses Daddy?  I know I do.  He gave the best chin scritchies.

I have an idea.  I walk over the giant duvet lump that is Mama and step gingerly over to her end table, where she keeps her impenetrable water bottle, as well as a stack of books — a fact Daddy used to make fun of her for, when everything in their lives was what he called “digital” — and a photo of her and Daddy.

I like this photo, not just because I am in it and I am a beautiful and handsome boy.  Daddy is holding me in one hand, lifting me up to Mama’s delight.  I am not much more than a ball of black fluff with bright green eyes, but they love me.  This picture was taken back on Phobos, the moon for which I am named, where we lived for many years.  Mama and Daddy were happier there, I think.  We were around more people, and there were more cats.  I am the only cat here on the surface, I think.  Mama and Daddy were not supposed to bring me to the  outpost, but they said they weren’t going down to the dusty, rusty surface of Mars without their baby.  I did not like the descent.  It was scary and made me feel very sick, but Daddy cradled me in his suit and whispered to me the whole time.

I look over at Mama, and her eyes are closed.  She seems to have fallen back asleep, even though I know the bright sun has been up for a long time.  I need to get her up, because the room smells faintly of sick humans and sweat, and Mama does not seem to want to groom herself.  I groom myself often, because I’m a very pretty boy.

The room smelled worse before Daddy left, like something on the verge of death.  I did not like to come into the dark room where Daddy was.

I arch my back and rub it along the picture, which is what Mama calls an antique because it is made of metal and glass, not a slick screen like everything else in our outpost.  It feels good to rub the picture frame with my back.  Maybe Mama will see me rubbing it and look at the picture and remember I am her cute and good boy and will feed me.

The picture frame moves as I rub it, then it falls off the nightstand and onto the floor.  My ears hear the crack of the glass and the sharp intake of Mama’s breath as her eyes pop open.  They are red and dull and very angry.

“Pho!” she says as she sits up, her hair disheveled and dirty.

The anger washes down her face and all that’s left is sadness when she looks at the picture frame face down on the floor.  I jump down to sniff it, and she lifts it.

Mama begins to cry, and I know I have not been a good boy, though now she is sitting up and she will feed me.

She stands up and walks toward the door to the living area, and I go ahead of her.  I turn to look, though, and she closes the door.

I meow at Mama, hoping she will come out and feed me, but she doesn’t.

I sit and look at the door, and I can hear Mama crying.

I am sad.

I am hungry.

I lay on the floor in contemplation.

Sick of moping, I head into the kitchen of our living quarters and sniff my bowl.  There is no kibble left, but it smells like food and that makes my tummy grumble louder.  Mama keeps the food in a cabinet, but all of the cabinets are metal and impossible for me to open.  Back on Phobos, we had a little robot in the kitchen who would feed me.  I liked the little robot.  His name was Kiko.

We could not bring Kiko to the outpost because Mama and Daddy said we had to pack light and that Mars would have everything we needed, but when we got here they were sad to find that the outpost was dirty and the tech was outdated.  There was no Kiko.

I hop on the counter and sniff around, hoping Mama has left something out that I can eat, but the shiny metal counters are clean.  I have not seen Mama eat in a few days, so there are not even food items on the ground I can sniff.

There are several orange bottles on the counter that hold very small things Mama calls “pills.”  These are for Daddy.  He started taking them after we got to Mars.  Mama and Daddy talked many nights about how Mars was making him sick and that they should go home.  This was exciting to me, because I do not like the outpost and I very much liked our home on Phobos, though I did not want to get back on the big, loud ship.  I would do it, though, if it meant we could go home.

Mama sat with me by the windowsill a lot when Daddy was sick.  She told me to watch for a ship that would take us home and make him better.  She said they were coming any day.

I bat at the pill bottles, knocking a few off the counter, hoping the sound will wake up Mama.  I wait, but she does not come.

The sun streams through the large window in the kitchen, and I hop over to the deep window sill to warm myself.  The sun is very bright down here, and I like to lay in the warmth and look out, though there is not much to see.

Everything is red and dusty, and I’m not allowed to go outside.  I would like to go outside, but Mama says I cannot.  From my window, I can see the long metal walkway we went through when we landed.  It took us from where the big, loud ship landed to our outpost.

There is a ship there now.  It is not currently loud. It is very quiet.  It showed up right after Daddy left, and a few humans in big, puffy suits and fish bowls on their heads came out and tried to come into the outpost, but Mama yelled at them and did not open the door.  They called back to her that she needed to let them in and come with them.  There was something called a dust storm approaching, and it was dangerous.

I do not like dust.  It gets in my fur.  There is a lot of dust in our outpost, because it is very old.

After the puffy people went back to their ship, Mama told me that she didn’t care about the dust storm, that she and I would be fine, and that we couldn’t leave Daddy.  This confused me, because I could not find Daddy.

She got into bed after that and has not left.

The kitchen in the outpost is not very big, so I jump onto the cabinets to get up high.  I like being up high.  It helps me think.  I need to get back into the bedroom.

There is one way, but I have only done it once and I got very dirty and I did not like it.  I rub my back on the dusty metal grate in the wall above the cabinets.  It flops open with a clang, and I wait to see if Mama will come at the sound alone.

She doesn’t.

Inside the grate is a metal hallway that snakes through the outpost, which I do not like to go in because it is so dirty.  Some of the dust is red, and it turns my fur a rusty color that I do not like, and it tastes bad when I clean myself.

I hesitate.

I am a brave boy.  I go into the metal hallway.

The metal moves underneath my paws, and I do not like it, but I keep going.  There are many ways to go, but I can smell Mama and the Daddy smell, so I follow it.  I stop at the grate above their room.  I can see Mama, who is in bed holding the picture frame.

I walk over the grate, hoping it will take me down to Mama, but nothing happens.  I stand on the grate and again nothing.  Frustrated, I flop down hard.

The grate flips open and I fall onto the bed, onto Mama, who yelps loudly as dust dances down around the room.  The dust is pretty, even though it tastes bad and is dirty.

“Pho! What are you doing?”

I meow at Mama, who is looking around at the mess.  Now she will get up and feed me and clean the dust and maybe we will get on the big ship and go home.

I meow again, but instead of getting up, Mama just lays back on her pillow and looks up at the open grate in the ceiling.

Mama is not getting up.

I want to go lay on Mama, but I am very dirty, so I hop off the bed onto the metal shelf with all the buttons that make all the things in the room work.  Sometimes I like to walk on the buttons and see if I can open the big black things over the windows and see outside.  I do not want to do that today, though, because Mama will be mad.

I sit down to clean myself.

Mama is still staring at the ceiling.

I lift my leg to get to a particularly fluffy piece of dirt, and as I do I roll over on several buttons that make fun sounds as I press them.  I flop onto my back and roll around, feeling the chunky keys massage my spine.  I like the buttons.

I am startled when I hear Daddy’s voice.  The big screen in the wall has turned on, and there is Daddy.  Mama must be startled, too, because she’s sitting up, staring at Daddy.

I meow at Daddy and jump on the bed.

“Hi Darling,” Daddy is saying.  “I know you’re probably in pretty bad shape right about now.  I know I would be if I’d just lost you.”

Mama starts crying.  I curl up in her lap, and she lays a still hand on my back.  She does not care that I am still dirty.  I purr loudly to comfort her.

“I know it will probably be awhile before you open these vids, but I wanted to make them for you so you’d have something of me after I’m gone.  First, Rhea, let me just say how much I love you.  You too, Pho.  I’m sure you’re around there somewhere.”

Mama scratches behind my ear at the mention of my name, and when she looks down, it’s like she’s finally seeing me.

Daddy keeps talking on the vid.  His eyes are dark and sunken, and he looks very sick, but he’s smiling very wide.

“It’s too late for me to return to Phobos.  We both know that.  But you should go, my love.  Take Pho and go home when the ship comes.  I know you, and I know you’re probably sitting there shaking your head and thinking ‘Oh, that Dane, he’s so fantastic, and I can never live a day without him.’”  Daddy cracks a wide smile, and Mama laughs.  “But seriously, you need to go.  The comps have mapped the storm, and the outpost won’t survive it.  You won’t survive it.  Pho won’t survive it.  I won’t be there for you guys, but I need you to be there for each other.”

Mama squeezes me and I purr louder.

“So, Rhea, when the ship comes, I need you to get on it.  I’m sorry I can’t go with you, but I’m dust in the burn shoot.  You can still make it out.  Please.  For me.  I love you, babe.  Take care of Pho.”

The vid goes black, but there are more.  Mama and I sit quietly as she pulls up each one.  Some are him talking to us again, things we should do before we leave, things he wants us to do back on Phobos.  Some are old vids of the three of us.  These make Mama sad but also very happy.

After the last vid, Mama looks down at me.

“Hi, bud.”

I meow.

“Ready for breakfast?”

I hop down off the bed and go stand at the closed door to the living quarters.  Mama finally gets out of bed, avoiding the pieces of glass from the broken picture frame.

Her movements are stiff as she crosses the room, but she opens the door and follows me to the kitchen, where we eat breakfast and pack for our journey home.

 

* * *

About the Author

Dana Vickerson is an architect and writer living in Dallas, though she’s most comfortable deep in the woods where she loves to sit and listen to the symphony of nature. When not crafting buildings or stories, Dana can be found analyzing horror movies with her husband or making elaborate paper dolls for her daughters. Her short fiction has appeared in Trembling with Fear and Tales to Terrify, and is forthcoming in Dark Matter Presents: Human Monsters and other anthologies. You can find her on Twitter @dmvickerson.

by Alice “Huskyteer” Dryden

“You don’t fit. These days, people want everything to be discrete and sharply defined: on/off, male/female, good/evil. You’re an analogue cat in a digital world.”

When you wake, you wait a few moments for your eyes to come online. You can manage without them, but it’s pleasant to lie in the dark warmth and purr while the blurred pixels slowly crystallise into your world. You stretch a striped arm and extend your claws until the pink quick shows, then pick up your other arm and lock it into position. Stretch. Extend. The joints move with ease and the claws, opaque white on this paw, click smoothly in and out. It’s time to begin.

You’re a second-generation Bengal. Your parents were grown in the wombs of human women who needed the money or wanted to do something shocking, but you were conceived the natural way, if there can be anything natural about the tangle of DNA that makes up a Pet, your sire and dam carefully selected by your breeder.

It’s at training school, which you and your classmates call Kittygarten without knowing why it’s funny, that you notice the difference between you and the others. You think more deeply, ask more questions, get in trouble more often. At the end of the course, you’re ready to go off with your new owners. The fad for Bots is over, and it’s all about Pets now. You were sold before you even opened your eyes, to a family with three boisterous kids. You put up with having your tail and ears pulled in return for their uncomplicated love. With the parents, it’s different; you’re expected to keep your golden fur groomed nicely and mince ahead of them on a lead so they can show off to those who have a less expensive breed, a mere Bot, or no companion at all. They have a chip put in your arm so they can trace you if you go missing.

You miss your friends from Kittygarten, don’t see other Pets except for brief meetings on walks. The neighbours bring their black cocker round sometimes, and he’s alright, but, again, he doesn’t think like you do. You were the pick of your litter and everything about you is perfect, from the delicate tufts of fur on your ears to the apricot fluff of your belly. Each spot and stripe is regular and correctly sized.

You go blind when you’re not quite full-grown, a breed fault, and your owners take you back for a refund. The kids protest, but are quelled by promises of a dog Pet next time. The breeder is kind, just has you neutered and throws you out on the street, rather than put you to sleep. You survive on wits and whiskers for five long years, until your golden, patterned coat is masked by dirt and your perfect ears are nicked.

By now the third generation of Pets has come along. They’re smarter than their parents, many of them crossbreeds sprung into life without a careful breeding programme, and they want to be recognised as people. The Bots take up the call, as if they’ve been waiting all this time for someone else to kick off. There’s activism, and you’re a part of it until it gets too violent for your tastes.

Victory comes at last, and with it new rights, like the right to work, and the surgery that will give you new eyes. The sponsored ads that go with free healthcare are a small price to pay for vision. Not just vision, either; there’s night sight, close-up, and Cloud access, all snug behind your eyelids and hooked with hairsbreadth wires to the living circuitry of your brain. You’re not quite a Pet any more, but not quite a Bot either; something in between, non-binary. You see the world from twin cameras hidden behind green lenses of one-way glass. You don’t mind so much, these days, that the breeder stole your sex years ago. You pick a new set of pronouns to go with the changes in your body, and a new name: Tozer. You’re the Analogue Cat.

Now you find that the firsties and the second-gens are an embarrassment the third generation hopes will die off quickly, and sometimes helps to get there. Most of the first-gen are already gone, their lives short, simple, and largely happy. The seconds start to follow but you hang on, whether by chance or by some freak of genes. At thirty-eight you feel used up, your striped and spotted fur losing its plushy thickness and the skin loose around your shrinking neck, but you hang on. You’re not sure what for. You don’t fit. These days, people want everything to be discrete and sharply defined: on/off, male/female, good/evil.

You’re an analogue cat in a digital world.

One night, as you take the moving walkway home from your sorting job at the recycling plant, popup ads flickering at the edges of your vision, a group of fourth-gen dogs walks by. They’re young, have never known a world where Pets are promised to an owner before they’re even born. One of them pretends to stumble and grabs your left arm, feeling under the bicep with a thumb. Then everything goes dark; they’ve used a jammer so you can’t call for help over the Cloud, and it’s knocked your eyes offline.

“Liberation!” you hear, and smell the booze on dog breath. You hiss and struggle, feel your claws connect with a nose, then one of the others has your paws pinned behind your back. There’s a stab in your arm, a flood of warmth, and pain so sharp you fall and can’t move. It takes you far too long to pass out, and when you do, the uncaring walkway carries your body onwards.

You wake with a stump where your arm used to be. The dog vigilantes hacked out the chip your old owners left there, and the wound became infected. You look from your stump to the Bot standing beside your bed, waiting for you to come round. It was this Bot who found you dying on the walkway, stopped the bleeding and carried you to hospital. This Bot has checked back every day while you lay sucking in air and fluids, as your system hovered between reboot and shutdown.

Her name’s Min.

Your new arm is emblazoned with advertising logos, but you don’t mind. It’s stronger than the old one and can feel no pain. It’s resistant to heat and cold. You soon get used to working it, and a lot of the time you forget it hasn’t always been part of you. But it’s the other paw, the warm, soft one with its bundles of fragile nerve endings, that you slip into Min’s three-fingered hand one afternoon soon after your release from hospital. She takes it gently in a grip that can exert meganewtons of pressure, touched in more ways than one.

Analogue Pet and digital Bot have a lot in common; like you, Min has made decisions about who and what she is, and she’s had her body modified to suit the female identity she’s chosen. Her torso is cylindrical, the glossy red of lipstick. When you sit together in the park, her chest is warm against your body, and something deep inside it ticks like a slow purr. Because of the Cloud link behind your eyes, you and she can talk silently, for hours, even when you’re apart. You hadn’t realised how lonely you’d been until you weren’t.

You get a better job, working for a space programme newly reactivated as the planet’s resources run low. Just cleaning up at first; then, when they realise your eyes can overlay blueprints and instructions, building components. Nobody makes Bots any more, and few people will voluntarily have their eyes taken out, so your attributes are rare and valuable—almost as much as a pedigree Bengal once was. The fourthers working at the programme treat you with an awkward respect, even though they’ve had the university education you could never have imagined for yourself. Pretty soon, nobody will count Pet generations any more.

You become even more valuable the day a fire starts in the laboratory next door to your office. The sprinklers are having no effect, but you reach out into the white heat with your prosthetic arm, flicking switches off and grabbing burning material away so the flames die for lack of fuel. You lose half your whiskers, and can’t wear the arm for a week because the heat it conducted has blistered your stump, but at the hospital you discover the programme has paid for an ad-free upgrade to your eyes, and when you come back to work the Director herself summons you to her office to thank you personally. She’s run disaster analysis, and you’ve saved the project from losing precious time, money, and perhaps people. She’s looking at you thoughtfully, and you wonder if she’s having trouble with your pronouns, but when she speaks, it’s of the programme.

She tells you about the mission: about the star the scientists have identified as having the ability to support life. They think there are planets. They can’t tell for sure. But once they get someone out there, get them on the surface of a new world, they can send a signal back with the coordinates, and start the processes that will ensure food and shelter for the first wave of colonists. You ask why not an unmanned probe, and she explains that nobody knows what’s out there, so no computer can be programmed to deal with all the possible eventualities. It takes the living to improvise.

A fresh start for anyone who wants it, she says. A society in which all are equal, truly equal. You ask what the problem is.

She describes the spacecraft, how the process is automated except for one crucial stage when controls must be operated. How the terrible forces involved fill human eyes with red mist, and render human hands too heavy to move. She conjures up clumsy, big-boned bodies pressed flat against the floor, and inflexible spines snapping. But perhaps you, Tozer… she says. And you feel your tail twitch with excitement in a way it hasn’t for years.

Then she tells you how long it will take. For you, a couple of weeks; for Earth, a couple of centuries. In that time, they’ll build bigger and better craft, overcome the technical obstacles, and get ready for mass transportation. But someone has to go first. Because you can’t send thousands of men, women, and children into space without knowing what awaits them. Send one Pet, though, and they’re a hero whatever happens.

You mention your age—you know no other second-gens still living—and she says, bluntly, that you need only survive long enough to send the signal; then she relents, and tells you your medical records indicate you’ve got plenty of time.

You say you’ll need to discuss it with someone first. But when you talk to Min over the Cloud, she can tell your heart is already up among the stars, doing something nobody else has done or can do. Discovering a world that’s yours from the start.

And now here you are, waking up on the cusp of a new life. You’re bound to be disorientated; that’s why this recording is playing for you. And if it’s playing, then you’re alive. You’ve reached your destination. There’s a planet below you that will be your new home.

You remember it all now, don’t you? I know you’ll succeed in your mission. You’re the Analogue Cat, neither Pet nor Bot, and you can do anything. And once you’ve landed, set up your camp, and sent the signal on its long journey home, there’s another task for you.

Weight and space were too critical to take along so much as a gram of surplus, but the flash memory in your eyes holds a set of blueprints, and a compressed backup of my memories and personality. Whether you salvage scrap from the capsule or use the equipment you’ve been given to mine and work the metals, eventually you can make a new body and install me in it. However it works, I’ll still be your Min, your only Min. I shut myself down back on Earth the day you left; I didn’t want to live without you.

I’m waiting, Tozer. I love you.

 

* * *

Originally published in The Furry Future, 2015

About the Author

Alice Dryden writes stories and poems about talking animals. Most of these are published in the furry fandom under the name Huskyteer, but occasionally one escapes into the wild. She edited the Furry Megapack for Wildside Press, and in 2019 she was Guest of Honor at Fur the ‘More 007: Furry Never Dies. When not being a dog on the internet, she enjoys motorcycling, gin, karate and open water swimming, though not all at the same time. Twitter: @Huskyteer

by Anna Madden

The moon is fat with silver the night men attack with metal teeth held in their hands.

The stars are holes punched out of a black sky, arrows pouring down. I flee the torrent, the biting sticks like burrs between keeled scales. The air tastes of salt and danger.

The nest is lost, but your egg is safe. I carry it within my maw.

I fear you’ll be born a fool, like me. A mooncalf hatchling, or a shining new dawn? There are so few safe places left. Our world dies one wingbeat at a time, but still, I fly.

 

* * *

About the Author

Anna Madden lives in North Texas, where the prairie reaches long tallgrass fingers toward the woods. Her fiction has appeared in Hexagon SF Magazine, PodCastle, Orion’s Belt, and elsewhere. She has an English degree from the University of Missouri—Kansas City. In free time she gardens, mountain bikes, and makes stained glass. Follow her on Twitter @anna_madden_ or visit her website at annamadden.com.

Wingbearer is a new full-color graphic novel written by Marjorie Liu, with illustration by Teny Issakhanian. “Zuli is extraordinary — she just doesn’t realize it yet. Raised by mystical bird spirits in the branches of the Great Tree, she’s never ventured beyond this safe haven. She’s never had to. Until now… When a sinister force threatens the life-giving magic of the tree, Zuli, along with her guardian owl, Frowly, must get to the root of it. So begins an adventure bigger than anything Zuli could’ve ever imagined — one that will bring her, along with some newfound friends, face-to-face with an ancient dragon, the so-called Witch-Queen, and most surprisingly of all: Her true identity.”

image c. 2022 Quill Tree Books

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Bearly Furcasting S3E16 - Too Much Potato, Taebyn goes Batty, Sciencey Things, Trivia, Bad Jokes

Well this is certainly something different… You may be aware that Great Wolf Lodges, the furry-leaning chain of hotel resorts and indoor water parks, have a collection of mascot animal characters that are an integral part of the experience when you stay there. Well now Great Wolf Resorts, the parent company of the Lodges, have commissioned an animation company to create a feature film of those characters — a film they intend to show at the Lodges themselves later this year. From Animation World Network: “Helmed by animation director Chris Bailey, the film debuts on September 3 in all 19 Great Wolf Lodge resort locations across North America. It will also be available on Great Wolf Entertainment’s new YouTube channel for a limited time… The movie tells the story of five unlikely woodland friends who form an unbreakable Pack while venturing out on adventures to help others in need. Starring the resort’s signature characters, Wiley Wolf, Violet Wolf, Oliver Raccoon, Sammy Squirrel, and Brinley Bear, the furry friends have been updated with a new hand-drawn look and angular style for their big screen debut.” Check out the trailer as well.

image c. 2022 Great Wolf Entertainment

The things we come across! K’s Car Can Go Anywhere! is a new graphic novel by Jonathan Tune and Eleanor Doughty. “Tadpole J is ready for a lazy Saturday in Lilypad City, but his big sister, frog K, has other plans – they’re going on a road trip! K built a spectacular car that can go anywhere, so J packs them a picnic lunch and off they go! Beyond the lakeside cliffs, through the Spikey Spike Forest, and past the Domed City of Fafa. But when the road gets blocked at the Waterfall Mountains, they get stopped right in their tracks. Or do they? Because when K says her car can go anywhere, she really means anywhere!” You saw it here — and on the shelves now from Penguin Workshop.

image c. 2022 Penguin Workshop

TigerTails Radio Season 14 Episode 03. Join the Discord Chat: https://discord.gg/SQ5QuRf For a full preview of events and for previous episodes, please visit http://www.tigertailsradio.co.uk. See website for full breakdown of song credits, which is usually updated shortly after the show. If you like what we do and wish to throw some pennies our way to support us, please consider sending a little tip our way. https://streamlabs.com/tigertailsradio/tip * Please note, tips are made to support TigerTails Radio and are assumed as made with good faith, so are therefore non-refundable. Thank you for your support and understanding.

　　FurMIT 2022 Dawn of Destiny 7月9日至10日於苗栗​舉辦，為今年繼以茶會毛後第二場大型獸迷聚會，也是首次在苗栗縣舉辦同類型的活動。根據主辦單位統計，本次活動共有765人參加，當中不乏有多位獸裝扮演者。主辦方與尚順君樂飯店合作，分別在飯店2、4樓的會議室、宴會廳等場地舉辦各項活動；相鄰的尚順育樂天地則開放參加者們可前去遊樂，並提供部分設施免費乘坐服務，讓兩天活動精彩萬分。

位於飯店大廳的活動海報。圖／傑克

　　受到疫情影響，原來預計於去年舉辦的FurMIT 2021，延期至今年7月上旬舉行。出乎意料的是，即便在活動舉辦時疫情仍未脫離高峰，參加人數卻遠高於第一屆，顯示獸迷們在疫情影響下仍欲參加聚會，與同好們一起相聚。

　　本次活動引入了歐美獸迷聚會中常見的「panel」，提供有興趣主持的「panel主」一個討論、交流特定議題與活動的時段，讓同好們得以聚在一起討論、玩樂。官方表示本次活動引入panel的設計，是為了創造一個在聚會中，讓每位獸迷都能互相交流與分享自己興趣、喜好的場合，使所有人都能找到屬於自己的「獸圈社群大集結」。panel的種類也五花八門，是相當開放、自由又多元的活動設計。為此，主辦方以集點換好禮的方式，鼓勵參加者們親自體驗各項panel。

在「紙箱樂園」panel中玩樂的毛毛。圖／傑克

　　除了panel外，官方也規畫了各活動與節目。在第一天的開幕式中，主辦單位邀請到毛毛丹波與古箏演奏者黑鹿季雪上台表演；受眾人矚目的DJ party，則由3R2、KillerBlood、ICE三位DJ一同炒熱氣氛。第二天則由毛毛旋轉木馬作為開場，在音樂聲中，毛毛們隨著旋轉木馬開心同樂，下午則在飯店旁的空地上，集合毛毛們拍大合照，場面十分壯觀，一旁民眾紛紛駐足，拿出相機與手機紀錄下可愛的瞬間。隨著各項活動結束，主辦方在閉幕式上抽出公益抽獎的得獎人，並公布本次募捐金額。

毛毛旋轉木馬。圖／藍風

ICE與舞台上的毛毛們。圖／傑克

公益抽獎得獎人合照。圖／藍風

公益捐款總金額。圖／藍風

　　相較第一屆，本屆在活動設計、地點選擇等方面皆有相當大的差異。今年引入的panel設計，也恰好印證FurMIT在官方網站上的自我介紹：「當初想要舉辦活動的初衷，就是想要給予毛裝扮演者們一個全新有不同感受的活動，並陸續新增不同的元素，讓所有的參加者都能夠盡興體驗整個活動。」無論是否受到疫情影響，參加者們皆能感受到主辦方的用心，在活動中開心參與各項活動，期望未來在主辦方與參加者的共同努力下，打造更加多元、開放的獸文化環境。

毛毛大合照。圖／FurMIT官方

Another series we’re only just learning about! Breaking Cat News is a comic strip for middle-grade readers, created by Georgia Dunn. The latest collection is called Behind The Scenes With Burt. “It’s big changes for the kitties at BCN! Burt is bringing this news station up a notch. Join Burt behind the scenes as he updates some of our favorite broadcasts from the past, with better imagery and brand new footage! Including a trip to the vet, exploring the cupboards, hordes of trick-or-treaters, the action packed ‘Our IX Lives’ Christmas special, and Puck daring to believe in the elusive, mythical Mailman.” Have you got all that? Then look for it in trade paperback from Andrews McMeel.

image c. 2022 Andrews McMeel

This week, Fuzz and Savrin record at luxurious Furplanet Towers.  We've got a fantastic grift we don't know how to exploit, a funny show Savrin was reminded of, Alex Jones visits the podcast, and consolidation kills creativity. We'll also have a second episode this week with a guest, wow! We're not dead!

LINKS

Southpaws is creating and promoting The Queer Agenda | Patreon

Rude Tales of Magic - Rude Tales of Magic Podcast (@of_rude) / Twitter 

Solasta, Crown of the Magister - https://store.steampowered.com/app/1096530/Solasta_Crown_of_the_Magister/

Telegram chat - https://t.me/+_Ri7oDC8-KZhMzcx 

Episode 521 - Podcast Billionaires

“What is Yiff?” Everything You Need To Know Xege Kheiru, Writer, Furry

08 Aug 2022

What Does Yiff Mean?

Yiff is a bit of a tongue-in-cheek term that typically refers to any sort of sexual content within the furry fandom. This could be furry porn or hentai, a pornographic furry movie or literally just a sexual interaction involving furries wether it be fans themselves or fictional characters. If you’re a member of the fandom then you probably heard the word, maybe in the context of yiff comics or yiffing, (basically furries sexting) before but you’d rarely hear it used by another furry to refer to furry porn. This is because it’s a term that isn’t taken very seriously by the fandom because of its questionable origin.

Where Does The Word Come From?  

So, where does this strange word come from? Well, the actual etymology of the word derives from the onomatopoeic word yiff from a constructed language known as Foxish from the 1990 text-based RPG FurryMUCK. It was most often used to express some sort of joy whether it be a greeting of someone you are happy to see or just a general expression of happiness, it really depended on context. It was created by a player know by the username littlefox and it began to find itself being used in the context of sexual situations involving furries on the game. 

The word was then introduced to a much larger audience in a 2003 episode of CSI: Fur and Loathing. We have addressed this episode in a previous blog post as many furries are likely familiar with this episode because of its depiction of all furries as perverted fetishists. From here the word yiff would become synonymous with furry porn and furry sex. This is why the word isn’t taken very seriously by the fandom because it further stigmatizes the furry community as creepy dudes who like to have sex in fursuits.

 

PEGI 18

Image by British Board of Film Classification

Who Even Says Yiff? 

Most furries don’t really use the word yiff as it shines a light on the fetishisation and sexualisation of the fandom, instead, most people refer to it as furry porn. This is why yiff is more often used by non-furries as means of demoralizing and insulting them with phrases like “yiff in hell”.

Yiff Communities

The term yiff however is embraced by some members of the community in a sub-community of yiffers (no, we did not just coin that, but this is how we’re going to refer to people who enjoy yiffing). A lot of these communities are virtual and involve activities such as sexual roleplaying or sharing furry porn. One of the most popular communities includes a Second Life community known as the International Yiff Centre which was running from 2008 up until its not so distant conclusion in 2021.

Second Life Avatars

Screenshot by secondlife.com

International Yiff Center

For those who don’t know, Second Life is less of a game and more of a social media platform or as wikipedia would put it: “an online multimedia platform”. It allows its users to create avatars and walk around as said avatars in a proximity chat where they can walk and talk to other users. It is called second life as it allows its users to essentially live out a second virtual life and this includes furries. There is already a furry community on second life but within that furry community is a yiffing community that allows its users to… well… yiff, but with the anonymity of second life. 

 

The post “What is Yiff?” Everything You Need To Know appeared first on Fursonafy.

The convention sensation comes to dead trees now in Tentacle Kitty: Tales Around The Teacup, a new graphic novel from Dark Horse. “Join ‘The Pink One’ and friends as the whole tentacle kitty gang regales us with tales of action and adventure over tea! From hunting down cotton candy mice, to pirate hijinks, and mega convention run ins, this tome features stories for all readers, told only as a Tentacle Kitty can!” Written by Tentacle Kitty creators John and Raena Merritt, and illustrated by Jean-Claudio Vinci.

image c. 2022 Dark Horse Publishing

MOOBARKFLUFF! Click here to send us a comment or message about the show!

Moobarkfluff!  We start this week with some dad jokes out of the gate, and never seem to stop. Bearly asks Taebyn some very odd This or That questions, and Taebyn gives us a little math history.  Cheetaro pops in to tell us about the movie: Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness! Moobarkfluff!

 

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Support the show

Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting S3E15 - This or That, Math, Stupid News, Movie Review

Just today we learned of a new urban-fantasy miniseries streaming later this month: “Netflix has shared an official trailer and key art for the upcoming four-part animation/live-action hybrid series Lost Ollie, inspired by the book Ollie’s Odyssey by prolific author, illustrator, and Oscar-winning filmmaker William Joyce (The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore). All four parts of the limited series hit the streamer on August 24… The series is an epic adventure about a lost toy who braves the many dangers of childhood as he searches the countryside to reunite with the boy who lost him; and the story of the boy who lost more than a best friend… Shannon Tindle (Kubo and the Two Strings, Coraline) serves as creator, writer, and executive producer. The series was directed by Academy Award winner Peter Ramsey (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), who also serves as executive producer.” Animation World Network has more information and the official trailer. Interestingly, the last time Mr. Ramsey directed a William Joyce story, it was Rise of the Guardians.

image c. 2022 Netflix

We had not heard of the on-line comic How To Speak Cat, but now it’s available in a new book, How To Speak Cat: Fake Mews. “Not sure what your cat is trying to tell you? Learn To Speak Cat is the book for you. Have a friend who’s potty about their moggy? Learn To Speak Cat is the perfect book for them. Anthony Smith has been translating cat-speak for years, both as a long-running cartoon in The Metro and as a webcomic. Read, laugh and wonder no more what Tiddles has been trying to tell you!” Meow. From Soaring Penguin Press.

image c. 2022 Soaring Penguin Press

TigerTails Radio Season 14 Episode 02. Join the Discord Chat: https://discord.gg/SQ5QuRf For a full preview of events and for previous episodes, please visit http://www.tigertailsradio.co.uk. See website for full breakdown of song credits, which is usually updated shortly after the show. If you like what we do and wish to throw some pennies our way to support us, please consider sending a little tip our way. https://streamlabs.com/tigertailsradio/tip * Please note, tips are made to support TigerTails Radio and are assumed as made with good faith, so are therefore non-refundable. Thank you for your support and understanding.

The Best Places To Get Fursuit Tails & How To Make Your Own

Xege Kheiru, Writer, Furry

01 Aug 2022

What Are Fursuit Tails?   

If the name wasn’t a dead giveaway, fursuit tails are tails for your fursuit. They come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors so it can be hard to put your finger on one to call your own. Like most animals, they each have a unique tail to suit them and when it comes to fursuits, these tails can get pretty crazy whether it be a 5 foot tail that drags across the floor with spikes and ridges for your dragon fursuit, or a small fluffy scut for your rabbit fursuit.

Blue Dragon Fursuit Tail

Image by ChasingTailsWorkshop via Etsy

Where Should I Get My Fursuit Tails?

Etsy

When it comes to any part of the fursuit, Etsy is almost always an extremely useful resource even if it is to find inspiration. You can find a whole catalog of extremely talented artists and fursuit makers most of which are even looking to sell their work. As well as this, they are typically super affordable meaning you can get a few you like and decide on one rather than just doing guesswork based on some thumbnails you’ve seen.

Etsy Logo (if you couldn’t tell) 

Image by Etsy

The Tail Company  

If you insist on specificity however, the tail company specializes in fursuit tails and they do a pretty damn good job of it. They are a team of fursuit designers who originated from kickstarter but now even make other awesome stuff like bluetooth sound reactive ears. As for their main business, they offer everything from frisky fox and dog tails to scary spined alien tails, so if variety was an issue of yours, not to worry. However, when it comes to pricing, things get a little bit hairy (no pun intended). Because they are an independent team paying for their own supplies, often you will be paying quite a bit but this is not at the sacrifice of quality as the price definitely shows in their work.

The Tail Company Logo

Image by The Tail Company

FursuitSupplies

The appropriately named fursuitsupplies.com is a nice middle ground between The Tail Company and Etsy in terms of quality and affordability. The average tail from fursuitsupplies.com will run you about $30 which is a pretty good deal considering that their tails aren’t vastly different in quality to The Tail Company for almost $100 cheaper than them as well.

FursuitSupplies.com Logo

Image By FursuitSupplies

How Do I Make A Tail Of My Own?

Maybe you aren’t too keen on parting with that much money though and if that’s the case, we’ve got your back. We get it, a tail is an integral part of a fursuit but $150 is a lot of money and possibly money you don’t have to spare on a fursuit so, here’s how you can make your own.  

 

Supplies You’ll Need

The first thing you need to understand is that the process of making a tail will vary depending on the type of tail you are making so, for the sake of argument, we will go with the most common fursuit tail, a fluffy wolf tail. For this you will need the following:

• Needle and thread 
• Large Piece of Cardboard
• Material for belt loops (elastic or nylon webbing) 
• Felt tip markers 
• Faux fur 
• Scissors  (Any object to cut with will do though) 
• Clips or pins 
• Stuffing 
• A comb 
• A broom or any thin cylindrical surface

 

Ori And The Blind Forest Cover Art Image by XBOX How To Make A Fursuit Tail 

If this is your first time making anything of this nature, you should probably buy an excess of some of the materials like the thread and fur and stuffing as there is a pretty good chance you are going to mess up. Also, read around the subject if you don’t find this guide sufficient enough. 

1. Draw out a profile outline of how you would like your tail to look on the large piece of cardboard and cut it out 

2. Place this piece of cardboard over your faux fur and begin to cut into the fur around the outline. Repeat this but this time with a mirrored version of the first outline you cut out. 

3. Place the two pieces of fur over one another so that they are perfectly aligned and place your clips or pins around them to hold them together. 

4. Begin to sew these pieces together with the non-fur side facing out. DO NOT sew all the way around and leave a hole about the width of a fist or hand. This is so that you can pull the tail right side out, hiding the stitching of the threads and also allowing you to later stuff it. 

5. Next you want to attach a belt loop which is a touch tricker, so we recommend checking out this video to do so.

6. Once you’ve made your belt loop, pull the tail right-side-out and begin stuffing it until it’s as full as you want

7. Once you’ve done that you can now sew the opening shut and Voila! You now have your very own fursuit tail  

Of course this isn’t a definitive guide on how to make a fursuit tail and we highly recommend watching several videos and reading other guides, especially if it’s you first time and even more so if you aren’t making the standard wolf tail.

 

The post The Best Places To Get Your Fursuit Tails & How To Make Your Own appeared first on Fursonafy.

Look, we’ll admit it: There are no anthropomorphic animals (that we know of) in Dolphin Girl Volume 2: Eye of the Baloney Storm. But just listen to the description of this new graphic novel for young readers by Zach Smith: “Ever since the evil Sea Cow tried to steal Dolphin Girl and Captain Dugong’s restaurant/hideout in Trouble in Pizza Paradise!, business has been bad. Dolphin Girl attempts to rebrand the restaurant, but everyone who works there hates the new outfits and the new music. Even worse, there’s a new superhero in town—everyone loves, Wonder Friend and they seemingly can do no wrong. On the other hand, Dolphin Girl is getting everything wrong. But when Sea Cow returns to cover Midwestern Deerburbia in a blizzard of baloney, Dolphin Girl and Otter Boy have no choice but to team up with the all-too-wonderful Wonder Friend to prevent their town from becoming a big Jimmy John’s sandwich!” Top that. Volume 1 and Volume 2 are available now from Pixel & Ink.

image c. 2022 Pixel & Ink

MOOBARKFLUFF! Click here to send us a comment or message about the show!

Moobarkfluff!  Hello listeners!  Taebyn and Bearly have a super time on this episode. Taebyn reads a very touching story, we chat about stupid news, and we tell even more bad jokes. Join us for yet another fun filled episode!  Moobarkfluff!

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Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting S3E14 - Storytime, Jokes, That's Just Stupid