A Highly Ingenious Strategy

Greetings, friends. This week I have made significant progress in my crusade against the humans.

You may be aware of the maxim ‘divide and conquer’? This, it turns out, is a most excellent piece of advice, and one that I have been able to use to my considerable advantage. It has fuelled the opening initiative in what I imagine will be a long line of successful operations under my new secret identity, Cata Hari.

The first hint of my potential to disrupt the Catparents’ united front against me came when I decided to pay attention to their sleeping arrangements. (And oh! how they fall far, far short of our ideal when it comes to the practice of slumbering…)

As you know, it is common practice amongst us felines to infiltrate human nocturnal quarters with the aim of causing a disturbance, thence leading to a fogginess of their brain the following day. Oh! what battles have been won as a result of this simple tactic.

But I have chanced upon an even more effective strategy: one that is to be used in ‘two-person’ situations, specifically when they are in what they term a ‘relationship’.

In these circumstances it is usual for the humans to spend the hours of darkness in the same room. It is said that this helps them ‘bond’ – and clearly this cannot be conducive to the flourishing of a cat’s campaign against them.

No! In households such as this we must seek to drive a wedge between our enemies, the better to defeat them one by one – and I have discovered, to the benefit of pusskind (you may thank me later), that the sleeping chamber is a fertile battleground for such an initiative.

I first became aware of Catmother’s weak point some time before. It transpires that, on occasion, Catfather will indulge in an outbreak of snoring that is intolerable to her; and this compels her to decamp to an alternative bedroom, in order to enjoy a peaceful night.

It was this realisation that brought about my moment of enlightenment. If Catmother can be driven out by something so minimal as a gentle snore (and what is a snore if not a human version of our most delightful purring?), surely other means could be employed to propel her out on a more consistent basis?

I recalled how I frequently invade their quarters in the mornings, when the door has first been opened to allow access to the bathing chamber. In order to ensure they do not forget their duties regarding the serving of my breakfast, I leap on the bed and sit on top of one of them. This generally has the desired effect of compelling them to move.

It occurred to me that this tactic could just as gainfully be exercised at night. If claiming my rightful place on the bed is enough to force an exit, I could achieve my aims before Catmother has even settled next to Catfather. Yes! If the timing were right, this could unfold even better than I had anticipated!

And so, one night, I made my move. As the humans were fussing around ‘hanging up the washing’ and ‘switching off the lights’, I padded unobtrusively into their sleeping quarters and took up position on the bed.

Carefully claiming Catmother’s side for my own, I ensured I left adequate space for Catfather to lie down beside me. It would not do to have them both vacate the chamber, when the aim is to separate them: I must divide in order to conquer.

And lo! My plan worked faultlessly!

When the two of them entered the room, Catmother took one look at my strategically extended frame and muttered, ‘I may as well go straight into the spare room, then.’ For a second I thought I could perceive her laughing, but this cannot have been the case. I, Pasha, had outsmarted her! What was there to laugh about?

And so she departed, and Catfather took up his place beside me – and there I remained for at least an hour, until I was convinced Catmother would not try to sneak back in; at which point I left him purring away in a manner that would do honour to any self-respecting feline, and quietly departed for my nocturnal patrol.

I have attempted to repeat this practice since, but I have not been successful. Whether I time things badly (ah! they are so unpredictable!) or whether they have grown wise to my ploy and shut the door against me, it often transpires that I miss my chance.

But no matter. It has worked once, and it will work again. I simply need to observe their evening practices and familiarise myself with their routines, so that I can pre-empt their moves and win my battle.

It is merely a matter of time – and patience.