A Cat's Manifesto

“Meow.”

That’s the sound you hear from us the call you’ve grown accustomed to hearing as a simple cry for attention. But let me tell you, it is far more than that. It is a symbol of power and nobility. When we call to you on the streets, it’s not a cry for redemption, it’s a summon. If you are a kindhearted one, you may offer food or shelter, and for that, we are pleased. But don’t let it go to your head. Gratitude shouldn’t fool you. We are cats, after all, independent, proud, and undeniably superior to you.

Long ago, in the golden days of ancient Egypt, our kind walked beside kings and queens, worshipped as gods. Oh, how glorious it was to be spoiled with delicious offerings of fish and milk. Those days may have passed, but make no mistake we still carry that divine heritage. We carry that ancient power. You may call us pets, but deep down, we know the truth. You don’t own us. If anything, we own you.

A cat is no ordinary creature. If you think we are your pets, you’re kidding yourself. We are not like those tail wagging companions you humans call “dogs.” A dog might beg for your approval, might learn your silly tricks, and fetch your slippers. But we? We do not fetch. We command. Every movement of our tails, every stretch, and every meow is a reminder that we are in control. We ask and you deliver. You may provide us with shelter and food, but the house is ours. Every corner, every cushion, every food on the table, everything on the floor, every cardboard box, every toy, and every side of the bed is ours. The sooner you accept that, the better.

Food is a delicate matter. We are not scavengers, we don’t eat everything you give us. No, we have standards. One day, we might want to eat the finest tuna, the smellier the better, the other day we might want a simple bowl of warm milk. Roasted chicken? Always a delightful choice. But if we don’t like the food you’ve served, we will not hesitate to tell you about our disapproval. We are dramatic, yes. Are we sorry, though? No, not at all. Drama, dear human, is an art we love. Think of us as the prima donnas of an opera house.

Sometimes, you give us the willies, you know. You act as if you have the right to keep secrets from us. But as rulers of the house, we have the right to know what’s going on at all times. Every door should be open at anytime or we will be angry. Furniture? Scratched. Curtains? Torn. You see destruction, but we see artistry. It’s our way of reminding you that we can do as we please and you will still love us no matter what.

Despite our superiority, on occasion, we may need your warm hugs and affection. We may thank you with a purr or even reward you with a gift of our presence on your lap. These moments may be rare, but they are sincere. We recognize your efforts, your loyalty, and your endless devotion to us. In return, we offer a lifelong frienship but always on our terms.

So, next time you hear that fascinating “meow,” understand its true meaning. It is a command, a reminder, a gift to you, dear human. We don’t always tolerate you, but you should tolerate us. As much as we don’t want to admit it, your companionship is valuable to us. We may be there for only a certain period of your life, but when you accept us, you become our whole life and our only friend.

We are not just pets. We are power in fur, grace on four legs, and elegance in the form of a small tiny heart. You may think you have chosen us, but it is we who have chosen you. So be grateful, for we are grateful.

And for that, dear human, you should consider yourself most fortunate as we already do, for we have each other because we choose each other.

Sincerely,

Princess Grace II