Mr. Mittens stared out of the window at the stars. For generations, his ancestor’s had used their gift…their curse…to help mankind foresee pending disasters. His back arched as muscles bulged and his claws torn into the window dressings as he was unable to suppress a yowl of pain. Only in this primitive state was Mr. Mittens able to call on the power to predict the future… It was a nightmare of blood and pain descending on his beloved pet human. He must let him know! He transferred the message into the ancient form of feline communication…he puked up a hairball.