Ah, my friends! How the tables have turned. After my last traumatic posting from the field of battle against the humans, I am now delighted – nay, beyond delighted – to inform you that I have at last achieved a significant victory.
‘Can it be true?‘ you say. ‘Can Pasha, our great and glorious leader, have finally beaten back the humans; forced them into the subservient state they so richly deserve? Please tell us more!‘
I will happily relate my tale. Not only have I confirmed my superiority over these ridiculously deluded creatures, I have – you will be amazed to hear – succeeded in exacting from them certain concessions, I may even say ‘privileges’, that endorse my newly claimed position as Mistress of All I Survey.
‘What can these privileges be?!‘ I hear you cry. Patience: all will be revealed.
You will recall that, in my last post, I described the barbarities that had been inflicted on me by the Catparents’ recent failed coup: the engagement of the Roof Men to infiltrate my domain, provoke me nearly to madness, and oppose my wishes at every turn.
It was not long after this appalling chapter in the history of my kingdom that I was seized by new fears that the humans were planning yet another atrocity against my beautifully feline form. Strolling from throne room to throne room, I chanced upon Catmother rummaging through her paperwork; and with my keen vision I spotted the file pertaining to the individual known in their world as the Nice Cat Man.
O horror of horrors! After all they had put me through, all the sufferings I had had to endure at their hands and at those of their minions – could it be that they were intending to add a fresh insult to my already sorely injured sense of pride and self-respect? Could they really be planning to manhandle me into that dreaded plastic cabin, to escort me to the Place of Needles, where my divinely soft skin would be pierced by those dastardly poniards in the name of ‘health’?
I paused on the threshold, my heart pounding within my perfectly proportioned chest, awaiting with bated breath her next move. Slowly she opened the file, flicked through the pages and checked a detail within. Her brows furrowed. She put down the file and pulled out another one; ruffling through the second set of pages, she came upon what she had been seeking. Then, for some time she sat there, gazingly stupidly at both files.
I was bemused. What could she have discovered to cause her such confusion? Could she have glimpsed – oh, how I prayed this was true! – some celestial injunction that Pasha, feline genius for our times, must no longer be subjected to the tribulations of lesser animals? Could this be the turning point of my long campaign? Was I about to experience a newfound respect and veneration? I padded after her as she moved into the passageway, calling for Catfather.
Oh, my friends. What I overheard has surely not been experienced by any other cat in our history, perhaps not even those in the time of the Ancient Egyptians. It is truly proof of the highest order that your Pasha is singled out for greatness and may expect honour and adulation as her due!
It transpires that, like the so-called Queen of the humans in this land, I have two birthdays. One is the anniversary of the date my delightfully petite form was born into this world; the other is – I hear you gasp in astonishment – the official date on which I am to be worshipped.
Yes! Two birthdays! I am still a little in awe of myself at the mere thought of it.
It seems that the documentation that accompanied me to this human domicile contains conflicting statements, possibly due to a muddle between my date of birth and the date of my first visit to the Nice Cat Man. It comes as no surprise to me that the humans should not have had the intellectual capacity to solve this conundrum. What I had not expected was their response to this crisis.
I am elated to tell you that we will now be celebrating both of my birthdays! The first (which has, it so happens, recently passed) will be a small-scale affair, where I will enjoy my day revelling in the attentions of the Catparents. Treats will abound and further privileges will be granted, even if just for this one day. They are fully cognisant that they have a lot to make up for, so this will be no more than my due.
The second – and official – birthday, which will come to pass in approximately 200 noms’ time, will be an entirely grander affair! I am already in discussions with my Meeseketeers regarding this (the inaugural) year’s arrangements, and they are busily pursuing the various tasks I have delegated to them. It looks highly likely that we will be holding a ball, to which all the felines of the neighbourhood will be invited; with the possible exception of Mr B*stard.
Oh, how they will kneel before me and pay court to my wondrousness! My head is so full of a mixture of incredulity and joy, I can barely purr. The humans will renounce all claim to superiority; my comrades will show me the adoration I have earned by my tireless travails on their behalf; and I will vaunt my irrefutable supremacy throughout the neighbourhood.
First the neighbourhood – then the world!
I will retire now to peruse my plans. But make no mistake, this new honour will mark me out as the veritable, unassailable leader of all felinekind. I now firmly believe that the only way is up!