As a proud servant (owner? Hah, nope.) to one yellow-and-brown striped cat, I really enjoy Jak Cooper the Lombax's stories about lombaxes having cat traits. I've taken Jak's prompt titles from Felis Lombaxus: Lombax and am writing my own shorts with the same titles, but entirely different results.

Some will actually be cat related… but not all!

Enjoy!

Sleeping

The only time Clank ever saw Ratchet as something resembling an animal was when his best friend slept. He stripped down to everything but a pair of shorts, puffed out his fur, and paced on all fours before curling up to sleep, ears drooped and tail over snout.

He also needed to be particularly careful to secure himself in the tiny cargo bay in Aphelion before Ratchet turned on autopilot for the night when they were starbound. Ratchet had a tendency to grab and curl tightly around anything in his vicinity… blankets, the small trashcan in the dashboard… Clank.

The first few nights after the incident in the Great Clock, however… Clank made sure to sit within Ratchet's reach, and Ratchet didn't even wait to fall asleep, wordlessly scooping Clank into his arms before trying to turn in for the night.

The infernal snoring in his audio receptor was worth it.

Scratching Walls

Ratchet, one afternoon, pulled out a sharp razor and went into a small corner of their Veldin garage. Clank had seen this particular portion before, with its deep scratches in the walls, and strange markings to one side. This time, he stealthily followed Ratchet to the corner in question, something of a moot point with Ratchet's impeccable hearing. Ratchet backed up to the wall, and pressed the razor to it right above his head, scratching a deep gash into the cork.

Satisfied, he took out a small penknife, and etched in something alongside the mark.

"Marking your change in height?" Clank asked. Ratchet wasn't even startled, and pocketed the tools.

"Once a year. I've grown by six ceticubits!"

Once a…

"Is today when you celebrate your birthday?" Clank asked uneasily. "You should have said something sooner."

Ratchet shrugged, and Clank glared at him.

"You are to wait here, Ratchet. I need to go make a few commlink calls."

Clank hurried up to the living quarters, scrambling to contact Talwyn, Al, Sasha, and Skidd. They could start passing the message on to the rest.

Ham, Beef, Chicken, Etc.

"You are not taking all of those transmorpher guns, Ratchet. It will be harder to leaf through your mat-compressor interface if it becomes clogged up with too many items. "

Ratchet cocked his head, looking over his arsenal to figure out what guns and tools to lock into the quick select function. He set aside most of the transmorpher rays, picking out the Boarzooka, Morph-o-Ray, and Armoogeddon.

"So, what do you think, pal? Ham, beef, or chicken?"

Purring

If there was one thing Ratchet would never, ever admit, it was that he really liked being pet. It was warm, comforting, soothing. Often, if he wanted to be stroked behind an ear, or have the poof on the end of his tail brushed out, he'd take a hot bath, play a vid-comic, feign exhaustion partway through, and curl up lazily on the couch, pretending to have fallen asleep. Eventually, Clank would get up from reading his book, or playing holo-chess, and start brushing Ratchet out with a wire bristle brush, humming along when Ratchet inevitably began to purr.

xXx

Clank hated messes. Not for himself, not really, but on behalf of his organic friend. Messes led to bacterial infections, pests, mold… things to kill or cause harm to an organic in some way. So, when he noticed that Ratchet shed, he'd tried to brush out the fur before it turned into small piles on the floor- the natural oils in the fiber a literal smorgasbord for fleas and other tiny critters. But Ratchet would always bat him away while awake, so Clank just took to sweeping up regularly.

Eventually, Clank noticed Ratchet would deliberately sprawl out on the couch in nothing but shorts after a bath and a gaming session. He didn't want to do something his best friend hadn't given him permission to do, especially while unconcious, but if there was one thing Clank would never, ever admit, it was that he knew Ratchet was still awake on the couch, awaiting the attention.

Meowing

"MROW!" Ratchet screeched, irritably, flicking away his tail and turning around to see who had literally yanked on his spine.

"Mister Kitty?" a small Fongoid asked, looking up pleadingly at the lombax. Ratchet's face immediately softened, and he squatted to talk at eye level to the small child.

"Hey, kid," he said cheerfully, as he swayed his tail back and forth checking for a pulled muscle and wincing slightly. "Don't pull people's tails, okay? That hurts."

The fongoid began to sniffle.

"Whoa, wait. It's okay. Just don't do that again, yeah? Now what can I do for you?"

"Lost."

"What village do you live in?"

"Terrapi."

"Okay, why don't you get on my back? I'll bring you home," Ratchet replied, patting his shoulder. The child stepped on, and Ratchet hooked his arms around her legs to keep her stable. Clank was off getting supplies from another village in Zolar Forest, so Ratchet didn't mind the detour.

The kid weighed less than Clank did, anyway.

Lombax Nip

Ratchet awoke to the mechanical sounds of beeping, something he'd increasingly been used to living with Clank. What was new, however, was the oxygen mask covering his face, and the burning sensation around his eyes.

"Mrph?" he muttered, before realizing a tube was down his throat, and two more in his nose. He relaxed a little; hospitals meant he'd done something exceedingly stupid, but he would be all right. A small alarm sounded, and, as he expected, Clank heli-pack hovered up and onto the gurney.

"You are going to be bed-bound for at least three more days, Ratchet," Clank said matter-of-factly. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked, as he carefully ran the program to remove the plastic tube from Ratchet's throat, but kept the smaller ones in his nostrils inside his snout.

"Not… really. I remember the benefit dinner on Luminopolis for stopping Ephemeris… what did I do?"

"For once, nothing. Your food had been drugged. Doctor Croid and Doctor Binklemeyer have been keeping an eye on you."

"Ugh," was all Ratchet could reply, before Croid himself came into view.

"Balbalis nox," Croid said, holding up a sealed bag of strange red leaves. "In small, controlled doses, a pain relief and mild hallucinogenic to lombaxes. Used in various religious ceremonies, and pain management for some chronic disorders. Tasteless and odorless unless smoked, and only affects felids."

"Catnip," Ratchet replied.

"Basically," Croid replied. "Someone laced the soup itself with the leaves' oil. I actually don't think you were the intended target, though. There's never been a reported death by overdose to lombax-kind, no matter how much had been taken."

"Sasha was supposed to be there, and had to cancel at the last minute…" Clank provided.

"A dose like that would probably kill a Cazar, yes," Binklemeyer interjected.

"Yay, for taking one for the team…" Ratchet mumbled. "Sooooo… what's going to happen to me now?"

"As the majority of the dose is now exhumed from your system… you're going to start having the effects of a regular dose. Hallucinations. Out of body experiences. Extreme taste and smell."

"Joy."

"This may be out of line," Croid cut in over his colleague, "but seeing as you're the last lombax and all- may we record this?"

"Will I remember most of this?"

"I'm not sure."

"Clank, will you blackmail me with this?"

"Most certainly."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I'm sure Tal would want to see the tapes," Ratchet said half-laughing, before everything went fuzzy again.

xXx

Ratchet blinked, and saw an expanse of stars, floating above it all. He was in nothing but a hospital gown, front barely kept closed by the cloth ties.

"So you are my son's closest friend," he heard, from a wise old voice behind him that sounded oddly close to, but not quite like, Croid's.

Ratchet turned and floated down, looking at the purple-skinned creature. "Zoni?" he asked, quizzically.

"Have a seat," the apparition replied, materializing a plush chair from the nothingness.

"You said your son… I never got a good look at you before. You… you're Orvis. And if I remember correctly… I'm high as a kite, so this is a hallucination."

"That's not quite how lombax nip works, you know," Orvus said, grinning.

"I… what now?"

"There's a reason lombaxes don't die from it, Cazars can, and nobody else has any effect at all. Brain chemistry. It… well, it essentially creates a temporary miniature dimension hopping chemical when mixed… its what led your people to inventing a mechanical means for doing so. Some Cazars can't handle it. E-he-he-he-he."

"The Dimensionator… is powered by drugging out?" Ratchet said, squirming a little.

"A replacement for it, actually, but the principle is much the same. Honestly, I am surprised. I did not expect you to end up here… if anything, you should have had some time with the lombaxes before the drug worked its way out of your system."

"I was thinking about Clank before I passed out…" Ratchet replied sheepishly. "Can I bring things out?" he added.

"Well, you aren't naked, are you?" Orvus replied, pulling at the blue garment.

"Back home… well, back on Magnus, where am I?"

"You aren't. I do hope they aren't too worried when you blinked out of existence."

"Want to go home?" Ratchet asked, looking at his new companion.

"I do think it is about time. E-he-he-he-he. Time! Because I built the Clock, see? Oh, I do slay myself," he replied, grasping Ratchet's hand tightly. "How much did you take, though? We might be stuck here a while."

"That's fine. I think I can wait," Ratchet said smiling. "So… is Clank a Zoni, or…?"

"Oh, my boy, that story, is quite the interesting tale itself. Here, let me start at the beginning…"