The Rule Of The Velvet Paw!

Well, we've had quite a sunny week here at Meadowside although the daylight hours are 'drawing in', as the humans say. As a consequence we're both spending more of our waking hours indoors enforcing our regal wills upon the humans.
Of course, we've been imposing our wills upon the humans for over 4000 years. It's part of our genetic make-up. And just how is it that we adopted humans as our slaves? Well, as I'm sat here doing very little today, I'll tell you.
The story goes, that one of our feline ancestors, Puss Purrn'Comin, was busily digging a hole in the desert sand for his daily ablute. Chance had it that there came upon him an Egyptian human pursuing his regular early morning jog. Now, the nature of shovelled sand being as it is, the Egyptian noticed Puss Purrn'Comin had constructed a pyramid; quite inadvertently as far as Puss was concerned, but he looked like he knew what he was doing. Anyhow, so impressed was the Egyptian with these skills that pretty soon, they were building pyramids all over the place. Moreover, the cat became deified - and rightly so. Anyone who killed a cat was executed. What's more, if a cat died the respectful thing to do was shave one's eyebrows. Hmm, I've not noticed many eyebrowless humans around lately!
Whilst lolling on the newspaper this week, I read that even Winston Churchill had two cats. One named, rather disparagingly, Cat who ran away after being shouted at and only returned when a notice was displayed in the window of No.10 saying "Cat, come home, all is forgiven."
The other was, much more importantly, named Nelson and was allowed to sit on the cabinet table during vital war meetings. If matters looked bleak, to the astonishment of the rest of the war cabinet, Winston would say to him, "Well, Nelson, what's your answer to the situation confronting us?" No doubt Nelson gave the matter some considerable thought, but probably refrained from replying. We don't like to make humans look stupid.
Today, we quietly maintain control of our lives (and that of the humans) by, in our free spirited way, keeping them guessing as to whether their love is reciprocated or not. We are domestic only as far as it suits. "The social smoothness, the purring innocence, the softness of the velvet paw may be laid aside at a moment's notice, and our sinuous feline form may disappear, in deliberate aloofness, to a world of roofs and chimney pots where the human element is disregarded."
When their company is required, we slip back to rejoin their world, pad across their keyboards, sit under their noses or, with tails raised, lean our bottoms against door frames impatiently urging nutritional supplements.
Long live the rule of the velvet paw!



Herky

With acknowledgements to "The Joy of Cats" by Celia Haddon