📝🐱🐱📰 The Circle Expands, a Soldier Rises, and a Sofa Is Lost

By Mrs. Cotton, Supreme Ruler of the Household, Guardian of the Realm and, rather unexpectedly, Occupant of the Left-Hand Cushion.

My dear subjects,

There has been a considerable amount of news reaching the palace this weekend. Some of it heart-warming, some of it strategically important, and some of it frankly unacceptable.

I shall begin with the good news, as I am told this is what civilised rulers do before discussing territorial disputes.

A Happy Ending for the Blackberry Brigade

I have received the wonderful news that all of Little Miss Dickens' brothers and sisters have found loving homes. Even her dear mother has found a family of her own.

Naturally, I shared this information with Miss Dickens during one of our increasingly frequent private audiences.

It is rather remarkable, when you think about it. One begins life beneath a blackberry bush, taking one’s first uncertain steps amongst the thorns, with no particular reason to expect a future involving warm blankets, regular meals and humans willing to rearrange their entire lives around one’s sleeping arrangements.

And yet, here we are.

From blackberry bushes to comfortable sofas. From uncertain beginnings to being thoroughly adored.

A most satisfactory outcome.

I am genuinely delighted that the entire family is safe and loved. Every little creature deserves a kingdom of its own, even if some of us are considerably better qualified to govern one.

Miss Dickens, for example, has already begun behaving as though she owns mine.

But more on that shortly.

The Return of a Military Legend

Yesterday, the humans returned home bearing intelligence concerning my trusted military adviser, Little Soldier.

It would appear that Little Soldier is no longer particularly little.

This is a development the military establishment should perhaps have communicated sooner. One cannot continue addressing a distinguished officer as Little Soldier when he has apparently grown into a formidable warrior. It creates confusion in the ranks.

More importantly, I was delighted to learn that he is doing exceptionally well.

Despite his difficult beginning and the injury to his hind leg, which I have always referred to as his Korean War wound, he has grown into a large, strong and magnificent fellow.

A true soldier.

I have always admired his resilience. Some warriors earn their reputation through great battles. Others simply refuse to let a difficult beginning determine their future.

Little Soldier has clearly chosen the latter.

I must arrange to consult him more frequently regarding Operation Red Tom.

That particular dossier remains open, and I have additional responsibilities now. Protecting the palace is one matter. Protecting a small, enthusiastic kitten who appears to possess absolutely no understanding of risk assessment is quite another.

Miss Dickens would probably attempt to negotiate with Red Tom using a toy mouse and excessive optimism.

Unacceptable military doctrine.

A New Gentleman Joins the Circle

As though the weekend had not already produced sufficient developments, I have received another rather unexpected announcement.

Our Circle of Friendship has expanded.

Please welcome a young gentleman by the name of Knut.

A little male cat, apparently.

At present, that is the entirety of my intelligence.

No detailed biography. No character references. No information concerning his preferred sleeping arrangements, dietary standards or position on household management.

The administrative department has clearly been caught unprepared.

Nevertheless, I extend my warmest royal welcome to Little Knut.

I wish him a long, happy and thoroughly spoiled life with his two humans, who, I understand, may be somewhat stubborn.

My dear Knut, a little advice from an experienced sovereign: do not attempt to change them all at once.

Begin with the feeding schedule. Establish control of a suitable chair. Introduce increasingly unreasonable expectations regarding treats.

Once they begin referring to these arrangements as their own ideas, your training programme is progressing beautifully.

I wish you every success.

The Great Sofa Reorganisation

And now we arrive at a matter of considerable domestic importance.

Please examine the accompanying photograph.

Photographic evidence: Mrs. Cotton and Little Miss Dickens occupying the royal sofa.

You will observe two cats resting peacefully upon our favourite striped blankets.

A touching image of friendship, affection and domestic harmony.

You may also observe that I am positioned on the left-hand side.

This requires some explanation.

The right-hand side was my spot.

I wish to emphasise the word was.

For quite some time, I have enjoyed that particular position. It offered excellent comfort, appropriate visibility and a perfectly satisfactory arrangement for supervising the household whilst appearing to be asleep.

Then Miss Dickens arrived.

Initially, I made certain allowances. She was young, newly adopted and understandably uncertain about her surroundings.

I permitted her to explore.

I permitted her to play.

I even permitted her to occupy areas that had previously required royal approval.

A generous approach, I thought.

Unfortunately, she appears to have interpreted my kindness as a constitutional amendment.

She has now taken the right-hand side of the sofa.

My right-hand side.

And I, Supreme Ruler of this household, have relocated to the left.

Entirely voluntarily, of course.

Nobody forced me.

I simply considered the available options, assessed the situation and concluded that allowing a tiny kitten to occupy my preferred cushion was the most sensible course of action.

The fact that she showed absolutely no intention of moving was, naturally, irrelevant.

The humans have described this as progress in our friendship.

How interesting.

When a kitten takes over a royal residence, it is apparently bonding.

When I occupy the male human’s chair for eleven minutes, it is being difficult.

The inconsistency is breathtaking.

A Young Lady With Ambitions

I must admit that Little Miss Dickens is doing extremely well.

She is becoming increasingly confident, playful and comfortable in the palace. We enjoy each other’s company, and I find myself genuinely pleased to have her nearby.

She is learning how the household works.

She knows where to find the best blankets, where the humans keep their attention, and precisely how much space a small kitten can occupy when she considers herself entitled to it.

Which, apparently, is all of it.

There remains, however, one rather serious gap in her education.

She has not yet fully grasped that I am the Supreme Leader.

I have explained this through posture, expression, carefully measured glances and, on occasion, a gentle correction.

She listens.

She considers.

And then she takes my cushion.

I am beginning to suspect that Little Miss Dickens understands the hierarchy perfectly well.

She simply believes it is open to negotiation.

For the moment, I shall allow the present arrangement to continue. She is safe, happy and growing more confident every day, and I must confess that having her beside me on the sofa is rather lovely.

Besides, a truly great ruler knows when to make a concession.

Even a territorial one.

So here we sit. Miss Dickens on the right, myself on the left, and the humans looking terribly pleased with the harmony they believe they have somehow created.

Let them enjoy their little triumph.

I remain Supreme Leader.

I merely seem to be governing from the opposition benches.

Yours, Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾

Supreme Ruler of the Household Protector of Little Miss Dickens Commander of the Left-Hand Cushion Currently Reviewing the Palace Seating Arrangements