We cats, Tigger by the kibble, Rusty on the far chair, Rags on the middle chair, and myself, Aslan, have dominion here.
As you can see, we’re all relaxed and laid back because we own all you see: these chairs, this hotel, even the people that put out this food. We own them all. We are kings and queens presiding on these thrones.
People come by and pay homage by petting us. A little homage is good, but no one likes a sycophant, a toady, a bootlicker, so when they begin to fawn, it raises our ire, and a little nip or scratch will put them in their place.
Though we cats are small, we know how the world works, and we make it work for us. Rags, for instance, likes to roam and has found three places for daily visits. He doesn’t beg, that’s dogish and beneath him; rather, people are always happy to welcome him and offer something to eat in recognition of his deigning to wander by.
You may think we cats are indolent as we lounge and watch as you go by. You can’t tell, but we see everything. No sartorial faux pas, no posture inadequacy, no unkempt coif, goes unnoticed. You may think we’re lazy, stand-offish, or even cold; but that’s not the case; rather, we are judgmental and very little meets our standards. They call a group of us, a “Glaring of Cats,” but that’s inadequate; just as there is a ‘Murder of Crows,’ a ‘Parliament of Owls’, we should be called a ‘Judgment of Cats.’
Author’s Note: These cats reign behind Tita’s Pink Seahorse Bar and Grill at Sueno Del Mar, in West End, Roatan, Honduras.