Fur, Fame, and Feline Follies: The Nine Lives of Mouse The Cat. Episode 4: Pride and Purrjudice

In this episode: 

The monsters I never ordered; exclusive soirées; royal whims; and Romeo & Juliet, feline edition. Don’t miss it!

Previous episodes:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Monster invasion

You’ve heard how my fairy tail turned nightmare. I barely caught my breath before the next storm clawed its way in.

The cat tree was so huge that Bagheera and I nearly got lost on it. I guess our guardians thought, "Why not add more cats to fill the empty spots?"

One day, I saw this on my territory:

As if Bagheera the Bother wasn't enough trouble!

This new monster was small but turbo-active. Still, he was way better than Bagheera the Barbarian - since he didn’t attack me (well, except for my tail). Not that his presence made me particularly happy.

The little orange monster ate like a vacuum cleaner and, before I knew it, he’d outgrown me. Terrifying development, I must say.

Now we had three colors in our furry collection: Gorgeous Gray, Brainless Black, and Ridiculous Red. Time to stop, right? Nope. My female guardian decided to go for a maxi-size cat bouquet.

Sometimes I wanted to scream, ‘Hey, this condo doesn’t stretch! Enough cats already!’ 

Clearly, we had an immigration crisis—zero border control, unlimited visas, and no one asking the superior species (me) for approval.

Naturally, I expressed my disapproval of her household politics whenever possible:

Sometimes I’d just sit apart from the mob and silently glare at the authorities: ‘Why are you doing this?’ Hoping guilt would finally end the invasion.

But my protests got weaker and weaker until I just gave up and focused on avoiding the furball mob.

The silver lining? My female companion still treated me like a true VIP — hosting exclusive bathroom soirées with candlelight, velvet seating (a towel on the washer), and Michelin-star delicacies served to the one and only guest: me.

My royal self was pleased:

Of course, I never missed a chance to polish my heist skills. After all, it's the sovereign’s sacred privilege to grant amnesty — such as liberating a freshly roasted chicken from the oven:

Then came the inevitable—I got a suitor. Simon. Neutered, yes, but hopelessly bewitched. He shadowed me everywhere:

He even dared to follow me onto Father Bear’s sacred belly!

I clawed, bit, smacked, even gave him throat massages worthy of a royal executioner — yet the lovesick fool only adored me more. 

What can I say? With beauty and poise like mine, resistance is futile.

There was no way to fix it, so I tolerated Simon's existence. To be fair, sharing Father Bear was cozier in winter. Plus, I could always grab him by the throat and play lion—something no other cat would’ve let me get away with.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my hearing. I’m not sure why — people or cats could sneak up behind me and I wouldn’t even know. It was unnerving. With all those cats around, life suddenly felt harder. Good thing my female guardian was on duty: moral support and snacks, always at paw.

Which reminds me: snack o’clock! Meet you here again soon.

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