Cat (yes, that was her name) came to Perkins Observatory shortly before I did, back when Jim Sheets was still building superintendent. She adopted the observatory and grounds as her home on her own initiative. Nobody brought her here. Jim began to feed her, and she soon moved into a room in the basement. Cat had clearly been owned by someone in the past, because she had been "fixed". However, she also had spent at least some time as a stray, because she would try to eat anything even a little bit organic, and because she was very skittish. Cat would start and run away if you made a sudden movement, especially with your feet.

Over time, however, Cat warmed to all of us at Perkins (except for Tom, our Director. She must not like suspenders). She especially enjoyed hanging out with Phil Keenan, professor emeritus at OSU and resident expert on stellar spectroscopy. It didn't take her long to become our unofficial mascot.

Gary McCool replaced Jim when he retired, and took over the duties of caring for Cat.

A Cat's Work is Never Done
Here we see Cat sitting on the registration desk in the lobby. She appears to be greeting visitors, passing out brochures, and selling tickets. Never neglectful of security, Cat also has a good vantage point to observe everything going on at Perkins.		In the main office, the paperwork just piles up. Cat tries to assist Jean, the secretary, by making sure none of the papers blow away. She is aware, of course, that the window is closed. Still, you can never be too careful.

 

It may seem hard to believe, but recently de-classified NASA documents from the early 1970's have begun to shed some light on Cat's past. Here, in a photo from the Apollo 17 mission, we see an animal which appears to be Cat sunning herself next to a large rock on the Moon!

Such a startling image becomes less fantastic if we consider the works of H. P. Lovecraft. In The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, Lovecraft writes that at night cats will often gather on the rooftops of homes and fly to the moon in vast numbers. There they hold special meetings and secret ceremonies. This could be a possible explanation for Cat's appearance in this photograph.

Or perhaps she just stole away on board the LEM before launch.

 

Usually put away in her room at night, visitors to our evening programs never saw Cat. Daytime visitors to Perkins would rarely see her either. She was ever wary of strangers, and would usually run and hide if they came too near. If more than five people she didn't know ever entered the building, Cat would scurry away to one of the many hidden parts of the observatory. Although skittish and afraid, Cat did love attention and affection. But even those of us she knew well would have to move slowly around her or she would become alarmed and run away. However, as time went by Cat became more and more trusting.

 

Cat's real work for the observatory was as a member of the world's oldest feline profession: Rodent Control. Perkins has always had a mouse problem, but when Cat was on the job, the problem was always very slight.

If we ever found those nasty little black pellets indicative of an infestation, we would simply leave Cat out of her room overnight, with the interior doors of the observatory open. If we came in the next morning and Cat was not crying to be fed, we knew that she had found her own midnight snacks (Yummy!).

Sadly, Cat died in February of 1999. Her passing has left us all feeling very sad, and the observatory very empty. May the stars of Leo (the Zodiac sign of all cats, regardless of when they were born) watch over her as she journeys to wherever her spirit now takes her.

If you wish to contact us, send e-mail at perkinsw (at symbol here) owu (period here) edu or call us at (740) 363-1257