I bend the knee to my new cat overlords

The domesticated cat, or Felis catus (yes, that’s its scientific name, not a Harry Potter spell), has long been a part of human society. Recent archaeological findings now place them first with a Neolithic tribe on Cyprus around 7500 B.C, which means that people have been attempting to tame the creatures for at least that long. And despite nearly 10,000 years of combined human effort, there is still nothing to be done to convince a feline not to step all over my keyboard whilst I’m attempting to type up a basketball game summary. Cat does what cat wants, end of story.

There are two cats in the office. Both are aptly named, with the rotund, orange tabby issued the affectionate moniker of Tubby and the mischievous whirlwind of black and white fur going by Demo. While Demo’s name was initially made in reference to where he was found, it fits his personality just as accurately.

When I first arrived in April, both felines were relegated to areas outside of my own workspace, not that they wouldn’t make their attempts to break said regulations. Demo in particular would constantly attempt to sneak in through open doors. That being said, outside of a few jailbreaks, both cats were mostly restrained from entering the upstairs offices.

Thus, a large portion of my interactions with them took place in stairwells, which, given a cat’s penchant for running between legs, was maybe not the best place. I’m uncertain if Demo was unaware of the consequences of having a human trip and fall on him or if he merely did not care (I’d bet the latter, personally), but either way, his cavalier attitude towards safety certainly made trips up and down a little more exciting than they needed to be.

Somewhat recently, the cats’ domain expanded to include our upstairs office space, and while I certainly do not mind sharing, I’ve had to redouble my diplomatic efforts to appease the new overlords of the realm.

Bribery seemed to be a good place to start. Kings love their tribute, after all. For reasons unknown, Demo is particularly interested in paperclips. For the relatively small price of tossing one to the floor, he can sometimes be persuaded to abandon his climbing efforts. It is not a foolproof method, but it works enough to warrant having a few extra paperclips on hand.

Should that fail, I’m often left with attempting to catch the black and white furball and removing him from the area. Most attempts to reason with Demo fall on deaf ears, his meows in response not easy to argue with. He, like many of his kind, thinks he’s right even when he knows he’s not, and convincing him otherwise is a Herculean task that is often not worth the effort. That being said, he definitely knows when he’s in the wrong, as he’ll surrender himself to being captured and moved to a more appropriate spot, even if half the time he immediately tries to return to crawling over my keyboard or jumping onto my chair.

As you may have noticed, I’ve mostly been speaking as to my interactions with Demo. This is partially because he is the more energetic of the two, and thus he is the one that most often needs to be course-corrected. But this is also because Tubby is far less open to the opinions of where I think he should be residing at any particular time than Demo is. While Demo seemingly accepts that his mischievous antics may not always be appreciated, Tubby has no such self-doubt. If he is going to sit on your papers, then it is his right to do so, and challenging him on this would be akin to yelling at the ocean to be less wet.

So I’ve come to an accord with my feline companions so that we may coinhabit the same space in peace. In exchange for pets and humorous hijinks, they get to basically do whatever they want, with the caveat that I get some small say if that ‘whatever’ is somehow impeding my work. And if that looks like I’m getting the short end of the straw, well…I’m not sure what to tell you.

It is, after all, a cat’s world. We just all so happen to be living in it.

A C ertain Point of V iew