Happy Purrsday and January 1st 2026, fluffies!
The Mew Year's Eve Pawty Report
I padded down the long corridor to Level 11 of the bunker, the bass thumping through the walls so hard it made my whiskers vibrate. The glowing sign above the steel door flickered:
Nip Nirvana Lounge NightClub
A small panel lit up beside the door, and Vera, the bunker’s AI, purred through the speaker in her smug, slightly cheeky voice. “Identify yourself, floofball.”
“It’s me, Basil,” I said. “Let me in, Vera.”
“Password,” she replied. “And don’t mess it up, I’ve locked Amber out three times already tonight.”
I leaned in and whispered, “Amber is NOT a Lush!!!”
Vera snorted. “Biggest lie in the bunker, but correct. Access granted.”
The door hissed open, and a wave of heat, neon light, and the unmistakable scent of premium catnip hit me like a warm, fuzzy wall.
“Try not to let Smooch blow anything up this year,” Vera added. “And if Amber gets anywhere near the bar, I’m triggering a lockdown. She’s still banned from serving drinks, total liability, that one.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
I stepped inside and took in the chaos. The nightclub was already in full swing. Pandora was in the DJ booth, wearing purple glitter headphones and looking like she was single‑pawedly keeping the universe in order. Melvyn was breakdancing on a rotating platform that definitely wasn’t designed for breakdancing.
Fudge was at the bar, sampling every niptini “for quality control,” and Parsley was lurking in the shadows like a ninja waiting for the purrrfect moment to scare the life out of someone.
Amber was hovering nearby, trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly, one paw twitching every time she glanced at the bottles.
“Don’t even think about it,” I called. “Vera’s watching.”
“Spoilsport!” Amber huffed, but she knew she was on permanent bar‑duty ban after that incident with the flaming niptinis and the singed whiskers.
Just then, three familiar glows shimmered into existence near the back of the lounge. Snowie, Humphrey, and Posie ... our Rainbow Kitties ... phased in like starlight, solidifying into fur.
Snowie’s white coat sparkled with a faint iridescent sheen, Humphrey’s black fur seemed to swallow the neon light, and Posie’s tuxedo markings looked extra sharp against the glow.
Each of them had their Earth‑Me Device, aka E.M.D., integrated into their iPaw watch, the little crystals pulsing gently. They could come back to BBHQ anytime they wanted, from wherever they were across the Rainbow Realm, and seeing them always made my heart squeeze just a bit.
“Basil!” Snowie called, bounding over to head‑bump me. “We wouldn’t miss a Mew Year’s Eve at BBHQ!”
Humphrey gave me a cool nod.
“Heard there was experimental nip involved.” Posie grinned. “And we wanted front‑row seats to the chaos.”
“Mew’re just in time,” I said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about tonight.”
As if summoned by my dread alone, Smooch burst through a curtain of shimmering beads wearing neon goggles, a lab coat, and a grin that spelt catastrophe.
“BASIL! DUDE! I’ve done it!” he yelled.
“Oh no,” I said automatically.
“I’ve purrrfected last year’s Mind Bender!”
Oh, fluff me! I thought.
“It no longer causes out‑of‑body experiences,” he said proudly.
“That’s… good?” Snowie raised a brow.
“Define ‘good’.” Smooch’s grin widened. “Now it causes time dilation.”
My tail puffed.
“WHAT?” Humphrey muttered.
“Called it!” Posie just laughed.
Before I could confiscate the glowing flask, the rest of the B Team materialised behind Smooch like a pack of feral heathens who had been waiting all year for this moment.
“We’re calling it the Chrono‑Niptini,” Melvyn said, already holding a glass. “It’s purrfectly safe,”
Parsley added. “Probably.”
Fudge nodded solemnly. “We tested it on a pinecone. It aged 400 years in 12 seconds.”
Snowie winced. “That’s… not reassuring.”
I opened my mouth to object, but it was too late, Smooch had already downed a shot. A ripple of shimmering air burst around him.
“Ohhhh mew guys,” he said, wobbling. “I can see next Tuesday... it looks rather average, that can't be right!”
Vera’s voice crackled over the speakers. “If he rips a hole in the space‑time continuum in the nightclub or the bunker, for that matter, I’m revoking his access. Permanently.”
That was my cue to get everyone out of the bunker before something exploded, imploded, or folded space‑time into a pretzel spinkled with weaponised glitter.
“Right,” I said. “Field trip. Forest clearing. Now.”
We migrated up to the clearing above BBHQ, dragging cushions, lanterns, and a portable sound system because apparently the night was still young. Humphrey, Posie and Snowie laughed, their Earth‑Me devices glowing softly as they padded through the frosty grass like little stars fallen to earth.
Within minutes, Melvyn was convinced he could hear the future, tilting his head and saying things like, “In five minutes, someone’s going to spill a drink,” and then looking smug when Fudge did exactly that.
Parsley kept phasing in and out of visibility like a faulty hologram, which I suspected was partly the Chrono‑Niptini and partly him enjoying being dramatic. Fudge was trying to teach a squirrel how to salsa, which the squirrel tolerated only because Fudge kept bribing it with snacks.
Snowie, Humphrey, and Posie watched all of this with varying degrees of amusement and concern.
Amber snorted and rolled off the cushion. She'd just knocked back another Niptini Al-Fluffo and then promptly passed out.
And Smooch… well… Smooch was floating again, leaving little time‑sparkles behind him like a cosmic snail trail.
“This is EPIC!” he whooped, spinning lazily in mid‑air. “I’m in, like, three seconds at once!”
“Every year,” I muttered. “EVERY. SINGLE. FLUFFING. YEAR.”
Snowie nudged me. “Mew love it really.”
I gave her a look. “I love them. The chaos is… a package deal.”
Around what I thought was midnight, I realised something odd. “Why does it feel like we’ve counted down to midnight three times already?” I asked.
Humphrey flicked an ear. “Because we have.”
Parsley materialised beside me like a whisper of doom.
“Smooch bent the timeline,” he whisper-hissed dramatically, then vanished and materialised again.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE BENT THE TIMELINE?”
“We’re stuck in a mini time loop,” he replied, his fur glowing at the tips. “It’s fine. Probably.”
“Stop saying probably,” I snapped. “It’s not helping.”
I marched over to Smooch, who was currently upside‑down in mid‑air, chatting to a very confused owl.
“Smooch! Undo the loop!”
“I would, dude,” he said, blinking slowly, “but I don’t remember how I did it.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Of course mew don’t.”
Posie appeared at my side. “On the plus side, we’re getting extra New Year’s countdowns.”
“I don’t want bonus countdowns,” I said. “I want linear time.”
Thankfully, Pandora, who, as usual, was the only one with any sense, took charge. She stalked over, her glittering cloak swirling, eyes narrowed.
“Right. Enough of this nonsense!” She brewed a counter‑potion using 2012 supurr moonwater, crushed catnip blossoms, a single feather donated by the very annoyed owl, and a stern lecture directed at Smooch that could probably have powered the bunker for a week.
Snowie, Humphrey, and Posie watched closely, their auras shimmering as if they were quietly reinforcing the spell from their side of reality. Pandora sprinkled the mixture into the air, and with a soft pop, time snapped back into place. The strange echoing sensation vanished. The stars looked normal again. The owl flew off, muttering something rude under its breath.
We all collapsed onto cushions, exhausted but triumphant.
Melvyn yawned and mumbled, “Best… pawty… ever…” before promptly falling asleep.
Fudge was already snoring softly, one paw still half‑extended as if mid‑dance. Parsley was still flickering slightly at the edges, but at least he was mostly solid. Snowie curled up beside me, her fur warm and comforting. Humphrey stretched out on my other side, cool and calm as ever. Posie flopped down in front of us, grinning.
“Ten out of ten,” she said. “Would time‑loop again.”
“Please don’t encourage them,” I replied.
Smooch floated gently back down to the ground and flopped onto a cushion, still grinning.
“Next year,” he said, eyes sparkling with dangerous enthusiasm, “I’m inventing something even more spectacular.”
“NO MEW ARE NOT,” Pandora and I said at the same time.
Vera’s voice drifted faintly from a nearby speaker we’d dragged up from the bunker. “If he does, I’m changing the password to ‘Smooch is a Menace’ and locking him out forever.”
I looked around at my motley, ridiculous, beloved crew, the B Team, the chaos, the cushions, the lanterns, the faint shimmer of residual magic in the air, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Happy Mew Year,” I said softly.
Snowie, Humphrey, and Posie’s Earth‑Me devices glowed a little brighter, as if echoing the sentiment across realms.
Whatever madness 2026 brings, I thought, we’ll face it together. Preferably with fewer time loops. And definitely with Amber nowhere near the bar!
Thank mew to our all furbulous furiends from all over the world for joining us here in Mewton-Clawson to see in 2026. We can't thank mew enough for visiting us here on the blog every week, and most impawtantly for your continued furiendship and support.
We feel blessed to know each and every one of mew.
And on that note, here's wishing mew much health, happiness, epic tidings and many blessings for the coming year.
Amber, who is NOT a lush (yeah, right MOL MOL MOL!!!), will be here in the morning, bright and breezy with the first furbulous book review of 2026!
Epically Epic New Year's Purrs
Wing Commander Basil & The B Team
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