The Girl Cat and I are engaged in yet another battle of wills over Lebensraum. I guess in her world, chairs are like Capital Cities, and once the Capital is occupied the remaining space within the room is then dominated, it can be gazed upon and considered possessed. A mind can then wander toward stuff like taxation, weights and measures, whether to use Fahrenheit or Centigrade, and for some odd reason you have to think of Cats as Kilometer Creatures. No doubt European Cousins, where the Kilometer is understood, will regard Cats as Miles Creatures.
Those of us who have read the War Poets, gained a sense of the folly of it all,
have often chosen retreat as a prelude to compromise on the understanding that
Common Sense and Decency, or possibly short attention span on the part of the
invader, will prevail. Well not this time! There are sacred duties, honor and
pride in the possession of particular chairs, and while I have no doubt in my
ultimate defeat, I sensed a responsibility to quarts and pounds, and I moved the
Girl Cat off the chair in the room where I sleep. Currently I do feel a little
like a Spartan waiting for the Persians at Thermopylae.