Being mauled by a small purring ball with very sharp claws and a difficult-to-pin down outline was not how she'd expected to spend her first day of veterinary school at the University of Intergalactic Medicine, and to judge by the confused, shocked, frightened, awed, or jealous expressions on her classmates' faces, they hadn't expected it either. Great. She sighed to herself. Just what she hadn't wanted to start off with. She'd hoped, truly hoped, that it could be different here. People came from all over, so any distaste for people who were slightly different would wear off quickly. She'd really hoped she could learn to blend in, make some friends, and--

Inspiration: Being mauled by a small purring ball with very sharp claws.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: This is endearing, and sweet, and not terribly original.

The cat winced as it watched the struggles of the mice under the paws of it and its compatriots. This wasn't proper, wasn't fair, wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Synchronized, they bent their heads and snapped their teeth around the mice's throats. The cat did too. Although it had found that it could avoid the command, could refuse to obey, it didn't want to risk doing it when they were being so closely watched. The ones with the controls were there, watching with cold eyes and bad-smelling hands. The cat thought it was maybe not the only one who could resist the controls. It had its eye on one or two of the others, the ones who had hesitated momentarily. The bad-smelling ones would think it was just a delay--the cat had heard--

Inspiration: Time ticked over, and there was a cat sitting beside me.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Hmm. Cyborg...cats...trying to escape. I think I actually read a story (comic book?) like that. Not necessarily a bad idea, but not one I'm interested in writing.

The calendar pages flipped back and forth in the breeze, though the windows and doors of the cottage were flipped tightly shut. The cat sitting on a cushion in the corner tucked her nose under her tail and put her paw over her eyes. She knew what the flurry of calendar pages meant. Mistress had remembered that she was supposed to send out birthday cards and go to christenings and weddings to provide her blessing. Mistress was trying to figure out when everything was/would be/had been. Mistress was also making her wardrobe fly through the air and into a packing bag in what the cat considered to be a most undignified manner. This was not the way a proper fairy godmother was supposed to conduct herself, in the cat's opinion. Of course, Mistress never asked the cat's opinion. Mistress merely toted the cat around with her when she went out. Mistress never thanked--

Inspiration: I was thinking about calendars.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Mildly entertaining. I kinda like the characters.

The cats went to town dressed in their finest to see the performing mice put on their act. They polished their claws and twirled their whiskers, brushed down their fine velvet jackets and polished their boots. They made sure their littlest ones were wearing the soft claw-protectors that would keep them from gravely injuring another kit or one of the performing mice by accident when their emotions got away from them; the claws of kits were the sharpest of all. A full grown adult, unless a warrior, usually kept his claws politely blunted, so as to keep from injuring a business opponent or a personal one during the batting of paws that established a dominant pattern, at least hypothetically.

Inspiration: The picture on the Victorian prop-up calendar that came with my 2007 wall calendar.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: I don't usually write anthropomorphized animals (say that a hundred times fast!) or sexy/cuddly-aliens-evolved-from-felines. I don't feel any particular need to expand in that direction; I just hadn't thought about it being something I haven't done until I got this little prompt written.