Switch the cat · 17up17down

Nobody adopted Switch. He arrived at the union hall one winter, walked in like he owned the lease, and simply stayed. Somewhere along the way he became the face of the whole operation. Local 120's own, and nobody else's. He answers to no brand but his own. At his checkup with the vet on December 18, 2026, they put him at around four years old, an estimate Switch neither confirmed nor appreciated.

He supervises. He inspects new arrivals. He has a favourite chair, and it is your favourite chair. He is named Switch because we're electrical, and a switch is the thing that decides whether the current flows or it doesn't. He decides plenty around here. (He also can't settle which side of a door he wants to be on, and expects you to hold it open while he thinks.)

Switch, on the job

Candid surveillance from around the hall. He was aware of every photo and approved none of them.

Switch lying on the floor of the training centre — Reporting for duty. First aid, EV charging, and one supervisor.

Switch lying across the training hall tables — The boardroom is his boardroom. The tables are also his.

Switch sprawled across an office desk by a keyboard — Reviewing the paperwork. Approving none of it.

Switch beside the IBEW 120 Training lightning banner — Local 120's own, front and centre.

Switch in a safety-orange TRAVEL CAT harness — Off-site inspection. Safety orange, naturally.

Switch sitting guard by the stage curtain — Holding the line by the curtain. A closed door is a personal insult.

Switch outside under a tree in his harness — Perimeter walk. The whole yard is his jurisdiction.

Switch sitting at a desk watching a computer monitor — Code review. He does not approve of your commits.

Switch lying on the training-floor carpet on the job — Mid-shift on the training floor. All of it, under supervision.

Switch outside inspecting a cone and tire course in a parking lot — Field trip. Inspecting the cone course, deeply unimpressed.

Switch peeking out from tall grass outdoors — Deep in the tall grass. Apex predator of the lawn.

Switch walking out along a tree branch — Out on a limb. Still, technically, on patrol.

Switch climbing straight up a tree trunk — Straight up the trunk. Gravity is a formality.

Switch curled up in a cardboard box next to a laptop — Working from the box. Your laptop is now his.

More from the surveillance file

Switch sitting upright looking at the camera — The look you get for sitting in his chair.

Switch loafing on the hall floor — Supervising from floor level. The floor is also his.

Switch sitting in a cardboard box — If it fits, he sits. Company policy.

Switch mid-stretch on the carpet — Mid-stretch. Briefly off the clock.

Switch peeking out of a rainbow play tunnel — Tunnel surveillance. Nothing gets past him.

Switch inspecting a pipe along the building exterior — Inspecting the perimeter. On the clock, outdoors.

Switch sitting and looking up at the camera — Yes? You needed something?

Switch lying on his back with paws up — Off duty. Completely, shamelessly off duty.

Switch curled up asleep in a blanket — Do not disturb. Union-mandated nap.

Switch playing with a feather wand toy — Hands-on review of the toy budget.

Switch sitting outside in a sunny garden bed — Holding court in the garden bed.

Switch walking across the grass under a big oak tree — Doing his rounds under the big oak.

Switch climbing up into a tree — Up he goes. Nobody authorized this.

Switch perched in the fork of a tree — Treed, by choice. He comes down when he's ready.

Switch at the base of a tree reaching up the trunk — Sizing up the climb.

Switch sitting on a path in front of autumn foliage — Fall rounds. Auditing the leaf situation.

Switch draped over a monitor stand looking at the camera — Draped over the stand. Reviewing absolutely nothing.

Switch's House Rules

The chair is his. All of them are his. You are borrowing.

A closed door is a personal insult. A held-open door is also, somehow, an insult.

If it fits, he sits. This includes your keyboard, your cooler, and your plans.

Help with the bills

Feed Switch

He earns his keep in vibes, not dollars. Food, litter, the occasional vet visit and his questionable toy budget all add up. Give whatever you like. The amounts below are just suggestions. Keep the Local 120 hall cat fed, fixed, and fully supervising.

🐟

A treat on him

One tin of the good stuff. He'll pretend he didn't notice.

🥣

$20

A week of kibble

Food and fresh litter for the supervisor. Keeps the corner office running.

🩺

$50

The vet fund

Toward checkups and the just-in-case. Nine lives, but let's not test them.

🐾 Feed Switch · you pick the amount

Enter any amount you like at checkout (from $2). One-time gift.

or feed him every month

$5/mo $20/mo $50/mo

Secure Stripe checkout. One-time (choose your own amount) or monthly. Cancel a monthly gift anytime from your receipt. Every dollar goes to Switch's food, litter, and vet care. Questions? hello@17up17down.ca

Pre-order

Switch's Line

He's got opinions about headwear, too. A small run of Switch-approved gear is on the way. Reserve yours now and we'll hold one from the first batch.

Structured woodland-camo cap with the Switch leather patch

Headwear

The Camo Patch Cap

Structured woodland camo with the Switch crest embroidered on a black leather patch, heat-pressed on the front. Built for the yard, the hall, and the couch.

$50

Pre-order · first batch