There was a time, before I took up my present royal appointment, when I lived in Enschede and answered to the name Jutta.

It was a perfectly respectable name, of course. Nothing wrong with it at all. But when Marco and Daniëlle came to meet me, they immediately understood something rather important: I was not Jutta.

I was Mrs. Cotton.

Some humans require months of training before they recognise authority. Mine showed unusual promise from the beginning.

On march 11th, I was officially adopted and transferred to my new household. I was 3 years old at the time, although I already possessed the judgement, dignity and household-management skills of a much more experienced lady.

Naturally, my humans believed they were bringing me home.

In reality, I was taking possession of the property.

Since then, I have settled in extremely well. Marco and Daniëlle provide comfortable furniture, warm sleeping places and a generally acceptable level of personal service. Meals are served, doors are opened and cushions are adjusted according to my requirements. Their performance is not always flawless, but I believe strongly in continuing education.

They are kind, loving and very devoted to me, which is exactly as it should be.

I am the only child in the household, and I take that responsibility seriously. I supervise the living room, inspect all new objects and ensure that no human sits comfortably without first considering whether I might need the space.

Life here is good. I am safe, loved and properly appreciated. My humans may have adopted me from Enschede, but we all know the truth.

They did not simply choose a cat.

They recognised their queen.

Yours, Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾