Celebrating National Meow Like a Pirate Day at Barstow

grrr…

Mearghh (pirate photo by Wallpapers.com, cat photo taken and skillfully edited together by Rachel Jacobs ’26).

Ahoy! Avast ye, me hearties! Splice the mainbrace and chanty away! Pirate cats (and allies thereof) quaff to their existence on National Meow Like a Pirate Day, conveniently situated on the 19th of September. Pirate cats are treated as bilge-sucking nonexistents in the grand scheme of the universe, and so September 19 is an jolly good day to celebrate one’s heritage and embrace a hidden and often overlooked culture. 


In 1995, Talk Like a Pirate Day weighed its anchor and hoisted its mizzen as a world-beloved (and often world-neglected) holiday, roistered yearly on September the Nineteenth. Swashbuckling vernacular has long piqued the interest of most of us meek landlubbers, and so a chance to officially trumpet one’s pirate growl is a chance seldom taken for granted and seldom whispered away. 


But blow me squiffy, laddies! 2015 was a momentous year already (with a Chinese stock market crash, the reestablishment of ties between Cuba and the US, the Syrian refugee crisis, and the Trans-Pacific partnership finally getting done), until the holiday of Talk Like a Pirate Day danced with Jack Ketch and was replaced by National Meow Like a Pirate Day, which thoroughly trembled the world. 


Sailor -howbeit not scallywag- cats date back to Ancient Egypt, during which the Ancient Egyptians would toss felines aboard as they sailed down the Nile River to snag birds from their lives. As cats scattered throughout the world, pirates began employing them for their natural- and potent- hunting skills, as rodents were not taken kindly to aboard galleons or cogs. Savvy?


Barstow battened down its hatches for the upcoming National Meow Like a Pirate Day by announcing it “Tropical Tuesday,” not explicitly for National Meow Like a Pirate Day but decidedly for National Meow Like a Pirate Day, urging its children to dress as vacationing tropicans who, most certainly, are enthusiastic about pirate cats. 

Liane Bdair ’24, Quincy Stribling ’27, and Tyler Bauman ’25, tropicling about Barstow (Chloe Foster).

If ye be a landlocked Kansan or Missourian, through and through, with nothing scallywaggly about yerr jargon whatsoever, press here to crank open yerr world. If ye be one of those toffee-nosed biscuit-brains who believes themselves to be above those who make a living through plunder and piracy, consider our school’s pledge to remain a place “committed to building and sustaining a school community that highly values inclusion and diversity, supports racial equity and justice, and promotes equal opportunities for all”, and keep ye flouting to yeselves. 


Fripperies aside, how exactly do pirates meow anyways? Do they “honk!”, or “grrrrr..” or sing “tiddly-tiddly-tiddly”? Local pirate cats were unavailable to be interviewed, so ye best option is to board a vessel and cat pirate away yeself. 

Author

  • Rachel I. Jacobs resides as the official scumdiddling troucher of Kansas City. She is a solemn professional who is so well-known that she doesn’t even have to wear a name tag. Rachel’s favourite letter combinations are either WR, SN, or GR, and she loves them so much that she finds herself routinely cramming them into sentences (she also likes the letter M). Charle Scabjo (as she anagramically named herself)’s noblest aspiration in life is to empty out the Costco warehouse and slide about the building in her socks. She enjoys sliding about warehouses in her socks (not that she’s ever done so), although she is rather prone to toppling over and wounding the floor (sorry, mate). She hopes to one day become a space pirate (her vicious gurgling-noises are steadily improving) for the insurance-benefits and inclusive work environment, and takes delight in eating egg salad. Rachel’s cats, Agent Sparkles and Edward Zamboni, have, depressingly, never eaten egg salad.

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