When I was 17, I went to summer school for a geometry class. I dressed the way I had in middle school (sorta like Keith Richards), in an attempt to intimidate the middle schoolers out of messing with me, because middle schoolers scare me. It didn’t work.
The stupidest kitten I ever met was a white puff named Downy. (We were fostering <8 week old kittens for the animal shelter.) Unlike every other feline I’ve known, she had no fear of fire. She’d walk into a blazing inferno if you let her. And in that particular hell hole of a house, we didn’t have central heating OR a firescreen, so we had to watch her constantly around the fireplace. I had a horrible fear that she’d eventually FWOOM instantly be gone in a little fireball.
That didn’t happen, but Downy implanted into my brain the gruesome image of ancient peoples using fluffy kittens to keep fires burning strongly. I imagined they lit up pretty spectacularly.
And so here’s the image for your own head. And it originally had a caption. But I like it better this way. You can pretend the woman’s just warming the cat or whatever you wish.
This is what happens when I mess up a cartoon and then try to remember how to draw guinea pigs at 3 in the morning.