Kinky reads the cat horoscope at breakfast

6 November 2026 · 10:00 · Kinky

Zurich – 6 November 2026, 10:00. My kitchen, five cups that don't match, a tower of pancakes going down fast, and my phone leaning against the jam jar with the cat horoscope open.

The rules of breakfast

Rule one: everybody gets pancakes, vegetarian, obviously, with apples and too much cinnamon. Rule two: before the second pancake, I read the horoscope out loud. Rule three: everybody has to say they don't believe it. Everybody did. Loudly. Then everybody leaned in.

SinDee goes first

Hers said something about a door opening where you least expect it. SinDee rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and said, "I found a bakery wall yesterday, that's not stars, that's walking." Then she took a screenshot. I saw it. She says she didn't.

PoshX takes notes

PoshX came straight from a night shift, glasses a bit crooked, and said horoscopes are not evidence-based. Her line was about rest and patience. She went very quiet, finished her tea and said she might sleep before her long run tomorrow. I'm not saying the stars did that. I'm saying she went home early.

VenRod studies, DeeNice smiles

VenRod asked who writes the horoscope, what method they use and whether there is an archive. Nobody could answer him, so he wrote "questions for later" on his napkin. DeeNice listened to hers without moving a whisker, closed her eyes for a second and said only, "Fine." With DeeNice, "fine" can mean anything from "nonsense" to "it's already in my notebook".

And mine

Mine said a small mistake would turn into a happy surprise. The whole table looked at me. Then at my sketchbook. Then someone (VenRod, politely) said the words "garden chair". I'll have you know that wobbly K has been on stickers, posters and a T-shirt. A happy surprise indeed.

The verdict

Officially: we don't believe it. Unofficially: we read it again at the door, coats on, all five of us, looking at one phone.

Don't trust the stars – but read them twice, just to be sure.

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