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The Col­legian pre­miered a new gossip column once again on March 7, 1939 (when will these columns stop?) entitled, “The Kitty.” This column had an absolutely psycho approach to deliv­ering gossip, referring to the anonymous author as a legit­imate kitty cat, in the third person no less.

It sounds like a joke, but the December 15, 1942 column began with this quote: “Kitty prowls this week very, very, very slightly. She prefers the warm fireside, her nose tucked mus­ingly into soft fur.” Excuse me?

Most people probably couldn’t con­tinue reading after that intro­duction, but I like to think of us Hillsdale stu­dents as troopers so lets ignore that and keep reading to see how the kitty theme works into the actual content.

“Kitty stirs — some­thing is both­ering her. Isn’t Eileen lovely? John R. thinks so,” reads the December 15, 1942 issue of The Col­legian. Kitty please stop ‘stirring.’ You are dis­turbing the masses.

The kitty cat crawling across campus had no trouble brewing tea. On April 18, 1939 it reported, “Carolyn has given back her pin again. We don’t really mind — but it is hard to keep track.” The insults are a thousand times worse when they come from a cat, I’m not going to lie.

The May 23, 1939 edition said, “The Pi Phi social chairman had better be careful about leaving her mail around, espe­cially when it’s from the Alka Seltzer Company— Looks bad— looks bad.” Who are you to judge, you cat?

The April 11, 1939 edition read, “Spring vacation should bring a lot of news for this column — but we can’t get anyone to confess.” Well that is a total dis­aster. I take back all I said before; I have lost all my faith in cats.

On October 24, 1939, “The Kitty” took a new approach to gossip-telling: “Meowing Rhyth­mi­cally.” What does this mean, everyone asks? Yes, your worst nightmare: a gossip column with a rhyme scheme. For example, the Kitty reported, “The Kitty’s been told that the cal­culus fold — which does its share of the dome-work, — was amused at Sir Tuohy when, paperless blew he: I’ve too much housework for homework!” Excuse me while I ponder what made less sense: that entire quote or the fact that the Kitty tried to rhyme ‘housework’ with ‘homework.’ Let’s not meow rhyth­mi­cally again. (The people must have spoken because the Kitty never rhymed again.)

“The Kitty” con­tinued “meowing” until 1945. During this time The Kitty did not cease to deliver the campus news. On December 2, 1941, she wrote, “Those two Delt pledges Marty Atkins and Bruce Wright, must be denying them­selves the plea­sures of life. They are never seen with a gal (their own) around the square. What’s the trouble boys? Are you too wild and woolly for our trem­bling maids, or have you been getting ‘NO’ for an answer?” The Kitty was ruthless.

However, on October 16, 1945 the Col­legian reported the news of the end of the column in a dra­matic fashion that is most appro­priate when dealing with feline writers. “Hillsdale mourns today the loss of one of it’s best-known per­son­al­ities. A member of the Col­legian staff, she died at noon today, the hour when the papers were dis­tributed to the student body. Political issues and baseball news took sec­ondary impor­tance as A. P. Wires carried the flash: the Kitty is dead.”

Rest in Peace, Kitty, you will forever be immor­talized in the brains of stu­dents and Col­legian archives.