Purrfect Repro Bureau

Tag: accuracy

  • The Bureau’s Position On Dogs, Children And Other Variables

    The Bureau’s Position On Dogs, Children And Other Variables

    The Bureau regularly receives suggestions that a fall was caused by a dog, a child, a draught or a ghost. We address each.

    Dogs are acknowledged as sources of falling objects, though less precise. A dog knocks an item off with the whole body. A cat does it with one paw and a plan.

    Children are acknowledged. They are loud, however, and the Bureau prefers quiet disasters.

    Draughts are accepted in rare cases. We require a cat to have been seen standing in the draught, looking responsible.

    Ghosts are not accepted. We have asked for a cat to certify them, and none has agreed.

    Draughts In Depth

    The Bureau owns a small fan for draught tests. In the one trial where it succeeded in moving a napkin, a cat appeared and took credit. We have not run the test again.

    On Ghosts

    Several clients have reported that a spirit knocks over their objects. We replied that a spirit would at least apologise. The cat does not. This is, to us, the strongest piece of evidence available.

    Our Final Position

    When all other causes have been excluded, the cause is the cat. When all other causes have been included, the cause is still the cat. We find this a restful way to work.

    Appendix

    For those who wish to dispute our findings, a form is available at the front desk. It is a single sheet of paper. Please fill it out and place it on a table edge. We will deal with it in due course, probably by the next morning, in the place where the form was last seen.

    Case Note

    One client insisted that the wind had pushed her lamp. We invited the wind to attend a hearing. The wind did not come, but the cat did, and sat in the front row, looking sympathetic in a way that fooled nobody.

    In all cases, the Bureau reserves the right to conclude that it was the cat.

  • Equipment Review: The Bureau’s New Measuring Tape (Which a Cat Sat On)

    Equipment Review: The Bureau’s New Measuring Tape (Which a Cat Sat On)

    The Bureau invests heavily in precision tools. This review covers the five items we use most, and the one item we cannot find.

    The Tape

    Our main measuring tape is five metres long and has been sat on by four cats. It now reads accurately only to the nearest cat. We have decided this is acceptable.

    The Spirit Level

    Used to confirm that a table is flat. Every table is flat enough for a cat, and no table is flat enough for a pen. The spirit level has been knocked off six tables, which makes it the most replicated object in our archive.

    The Stopwatch

    We time the interval between the first paw touch and the fall. The shortest recorded interval is 0.4 seconds. The longest is 47 minutes, set by a cat named Doris, who is thought to have been napping in the middle of it.

    The Camera

    Our high speed camera captures a thousand frames a second, which is how we know that the cat looks at the camera in frame 212. Always frame 212.

    The Missing Item

    The Laser Pointer

    Used for alignment only. A cat once looked at the dot, looked at the Bureau, and looked at the dot again, and then left the room. The Replicator did not see the cat again until supper. We no longer carry the pointer on a Tuesday.

    The Clipboard

    Every Replicator carries a clipboard. None of them can hold it for long. The Bureau has solved this by tying it to a tripod, which has been knocked over nine times and is therefore our most thoroughly tested piece of equipment.

    The Tea Thermos

    Not strictly scientific, but vital. A Replicator with tea writes better notes. A Replicator without tea writes fewer notes and a longer sulk.

    Overall Rating

    We rate the Bureau’s equipment four paws out of five. The fifth paw is on the tape, and will remain there until it gets bored.

    We cannot find the Bureau’s calibrated gravity weight. Last seen on a windowsill. We have a theory about where it went, and the theory is a long drop.

  • Case Study: The Glass of Water That Fell Exactly Twice

    Case Study: The Glass of Water That Fell Exactly Twice

    Some falls happen once. Some happen every night at 3 AM. The Bureau accepted the Vandermeer Bedside Case because the client was tired and because the cat was extremely consistent.

    Background

    A glass of water, half full, stood on a bedside table for six years without incident. Then the household acquired a ginger cat named Sergeant Crumpet. The glass has since fallen, with the same sound, on forty one separate occasions. The client wanted to know why, and also whether we could make it stop. We explained that the Bureau replicates; it does not prevent. She hired us anyway.

    The Night Watch

    Inspector Biscuit and Replicator Fenwick spent three nights in the bedroom, observing from the wardrobe. On the first night the glass did not fall. On the second night it fell at 3:07 AM. On the third night the glass fell at 3:07 AM again, which our team found unnerving, because Sergeant Crumpet was visibly asleep.

    The Sound

    The Bureau records the sound of each fall in decibels, but the more reliable measure is the client’s reaction, which we have graded on a five point scale. The scale runs from mild groan to full name shouting. The Vandermeer case reached a four.

    “I was awake before the glass hit the floor. I do not know how. I think I was waiting.” Mr. Vandermeer, speaking from the pillow.

    The Departure

    On the fourth morning, when the Bureau announced it would replicate the fall under controlled lighting, Sergeant Crumpet stood up, looked at the glass, and left the room. He did not return for six hours. We have recorded this as the first time a subject has declined to perform when told it was being filmed.

    Conclusion

    Interview With The Client

    We sat down with Mr. Vandermeer in the kitchen, since the bedroom was now classed as an active site. He offered tea, then offered whisky, then took the tea back. He told us that he has slept lightly since the first fall, and that his wife now wears a hat to bed to protect her from airborne water, which we did not think was necessary but did not discourage.

    “It is not the water,” he said. “It is the timing. It happens when I have just dreamt something good.” He then asked whether we could replicate the dream, which is outside the Bureau’s scope, though Replicator Fenwick offered to lie on the bed and look hopeful.

    The Sergeant’s Methods

    Over the course of the stakeout we observed Sergeant Crumpet’s technique in detail. He does not simply swat the glass. He first sits near it, then sniffs it, then dips one whisker in it as if checking the temperature of a bath. He then lifts a paw, holds it there for a count of eight, and lowers it without touching anything. This is a feint, aimed at the human. Only when the human has relaxed does the real push occur.

    The Bureau has named this the Crumpet Feint and intends to publish it in a paper that nobody will read, although cats will certainly sit on it.

    Cost Of The Case

    The Vandermeer case ran to three nights, two cameras and one very large bag of crisps eaten by Fenwick in the wardrobe. The invoice, itemised, came to a figure that Mr. Vandermeer described as reasonable but sad. We offered a discount in exchange for a testimonial. He offered a different testimonial. We have not published it.

    Afterword

    A week after the investigation the glass fell again, at 3:07, with no one in the room. The Bureau considers the case reopened. It is also considering a long term subscription, in which the cat falls a glass for us once a month so that we never have to wait.

    We take comfort in the fact that some things in this world can be counted on. Dawn. Taxes. A small splash at 3:07.

    The glass fell twice during our controlled trials, both times when the cat was somewhere else and believed to be unobserved. We believe the cat was operating by remote influence. The Bureau has filed this under Unexplained and Delighted.

  • A Plain Guide to Reading Your Replication Certificate

    A Plain Guide to Reading Your Replication Certificate

    Clients regularly ask what the boxes on a Bureau Replication Certificate mean. This guide answers that, and also explains why one box is always already ticked.

    The Header

    At the top you will find the case number, which always begins with the letters PR and ends with a number that means nothing. Beneath it is the seal of the Bureau: a paw inside a circle, which the founders believe looks official and which, to be fair, does.

    The Four Boxes

    • Box one: Fall Occurred. This is ticked in advance on every certificate, as we have never had a client request a replication of something that did not fall.
    • Box two: Fall Was Faithful. This is ticked if the object fell in the same direction, at the same speed, with the same level of drama.
    • Box three: Cat Was Present. This is ticked if a cat was present, which is a mercy, since a cat is nearly always present.
    • Box four: Cat Seemed Sorry. This box has never been ticked and the Bureau is considering removing it.

    The Signature Block

    Three signatures appear at the bottom. The first is from the Lead Replicator. The second is from a witness, who is usually a different cat. The third is a smudge, which is the official signature of the Bureau Director, Dame Pomfret, who signs with her whole paw because she believes a pen would be an admission that a hand exists.

    What Certificates Are Good For

    Our certificates are accepted nowhere. They are, however, deeply satisfying to place on a refrigerator. Several clients have told us they use them to settle arguments at home. We do not recommend this, as the argument is usually about who left the glass there, and the certificate does not say.

    A Word On Paw Prints

    The paw print on every certificate is real. We obtain it by pressing a clean paw onto a soft ink pad shaped like a lily. The cat is asked politely, three times, and then given a snack, and then asked again. Roughly half of our certificates carry a print from the intended cat. The other half carry the print of whichever cat happened to be nearest, which, as our legal disclaimer states, is close enough.

    Certificate Grades

    For clients who want something more specific we offer three grades of certificate. The Standard Grade comes on cream paper with a hand stamped seal. The Premium Grade comes on heavier paper and carries a small embossed whisker. The Executive Grade is printed on a sheet of actual felt and is accompanied by a short ceremony in which a cat walks across it.

    Frequently Asked Questions

    Can I frame my certificate? Yes. We recommend a frame with a lip, so that the cat can push it off with some dignity.

    Can I use it in court? We have no idea. We have never tried. If you do, please bring a cat.

    Can I request that Box Four be ticked? You may request it. The Director has been known to read these requests aloud at staff meetings, and everyone has laughed.

    Our Promise

    We stand behind each certificate. In the event that it is lost, damaged or sat upon, we will issue a replacement for a small fee. In the event that it is pushed off a shelf, we will treat it as a new case and bill accordingly.

    Archiving

    Every certificate is photographed and filed in the Bureau archive, which is a cupboard. The cupboard has a cat in it. We consider the cat part of the filing system, and the cat considers the cupboard hers. Retrieval requests take between two days and one nap.

    If you would like a certificate reissued because a cat sat on the original, please send the sat on original. We will repair it by sitting on a replacement.

  • We Reproduced Your Mug Incident. The Mug Was Not Surprised.

    We Reproduced Your Mug Incident. The Mug Was Not Surprised.

    The Purrfect Repro Bureau exists to answer one question for our clients: can it happen again? In the case of the Hendricks Mug Incident, the answer was yes, and it took us four minutes.

    The client, a human of average disposition, contacted us after a blue mug fell from the kitchen counter at 6:40 on a Tuesday morning. She wanted to know whether this was an accident or a pattern. We do not take sides. We take measurements.

    The Original Event

    Our Lead Replicator, Inspector Biscuit, arrived at the scene with a clipboard he cannot hold and a stare he can. The mug had been placed 2 centimetres from the edge of the counter. The cat of the house, a grey animal named Colonel Pickle, had been sitting nearby with an expression our report describes as casual to a suspicious degree.

    The Replication Procedure

    We obtained an identical mug. We placed it at the identical distance. We then did nothing at all for eleven minutes, which our methodology document calls the Patience Phase. Colonel Pickle looked at the mug, looked at Inspector Biscuit, and looked at the mug again.

    • Phase one: establish the mug and the edge
    • Phase two: introduce the paw at an angle of roughly nine degrees
    • Phase three: observe the fall
    • Phase four: observe the cat observing the fall

    The fall occurred on the fourth attempt. The first three were rehearsals, which the client was not charged for, as they were mostly the cat testing whether anyone was watching.

    Findings

    The Bureau concludes that the incident was not an accident. It was a scheduled event with a flexible start time. The mug did not break, as it landed on a folded towel we had placed there for compassionate reasons, but Colonel Pickle looked at the towel with open disappointment and walked away.

    “It fell exactly the way I remember. Even the little bounce. I do not know how I feel about that.” Client, name withheld for her own protection.

    Recommendations

    We advise the client to move the mug, which she will not do, because she likes the mug there. We therefore also advise her to buy a second mug for the next replication. Our rate for repeat incidents is reduced, because by the third one the cat usually stops pretending.

    Equipment Used

    Replication is a matter of tools and temperament. For the Hendricks case we deployed a laser level, a high speed camera, a folding ruler, a thermos of tea for the humans, and a small velvet cushion for the cat, because we have learned that comfort improves performance. A cat who is cold will not fall anything. A cat who is warm and slightly offended will fall an entire shelf.

    We also deployed the Bureau’s Witness Cat, a retired barn animal named Dolores, whose job is to sit by the door and look unimpressed. Her presence is not scientifically required. It simply keeps everyone honest, and prevents Inspector Biscuit from claiming he did it himself.

    What We Learned About Counters

    A kitchen counter is not a flat surface. It is a stage with a sloped back edge, a toast crumb on the left side and an invisible line near the kettle that no cat has ever crossed on purpose. The mug had been set precisely on that line. We believe the cat did not choose the mug. The cat chose the line, and the mug happened to be standing on it.

    The Bureau has since produced a diagram of the kitchen showing eleven drop zones, ranked by cat enthusiasm. The mug zone ranked fourth. First place went to the butter dish, which has never actually fallen but is watched every morning like a lighthouse.

    A Note On Ethics

    The Bureau holds itself to a high standard. We never push anything that has not already been pushed. We never replace a mug with a better mug. And we never, under any circumstances, tell a client that the cat is sorry, because the cat is not, and honesty is our one remaining asset.

    The Bureau thanks Colonel Pickle for his cooperation. He has not asked for a fee, which is unusual, but he has asked for the towel.