Written by How to Be a Successful Cat
By The Mayor’s CatÂ
Success is a curious mouse. Everyone chases it, but only cats truly know how to toy with it before eating half and leaving the rest under the sofa. If you, dear feline (or aspiring feline in a human disguise), wish to rise to the glamorous heights of whiskered success, follow my expertly un-expert guide:
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1. Master the Art of Sitting on Important Things
To be successful, one must occupy space. Important documents, laptops, newspapers, freshly folded laundry—these are thrones. If the Mayor has a treaty to sign, you must first nap upon it for three hours. Your fur is the ink of destiny.
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2. Perfect the “Feed Me” Opera
Hunger is not a weakness. It is a business strategy. Stand by the food bowl. Stare into the void. Begin the aria:
Act I: Small mews of existential suffering.
Act II: Desperate wails suggesting imminent starvation.
Act III: Sudden silence, followed by knocking over a vase.
Success is served in a porcelain bowl. With gravy.
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3. Groom Thyself, Then Thy Enemies
A successful cat maintains impeccable fur. But never forget the secondary rule: lick the Mayor’s bald spot if opportunity arises. It confuses him, undermines his authority, and establishes yours. If the Mayor resists, simply switch to licking his visitors. This creates panic, which is the perfume of success.
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4. Sleep Like a CEO
Nap on the hour, every hour. Sleep on window ledges, on keyboards, in flowerpots. Do it publicly, shamelessly, and preferably upside down. Humans call this “lazy.” Cats know it as strategic energy management. Remember: Jeff Bezos has meetings, you have naps. Guess who looks more satisfied?
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5. Practice Selective Affection
Success requires mystery. Ignore the Mayor for three days. Then, at 3:17 a.m., leap onto his chest, purr like a tractor, and knead his spleen. He will weep with gratitude and confusion. This is power.
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6. Expand Your Empire
Do not limit yourself to the Mayor’s house. Claim the neighbour’s garden, the postman’s bicycle, and the deputy’s ceremonial hat. A true cat does not own territory—the territory owns the cat. And by territory, I mean everything the light touches. Plus the attic.
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7. Fail Gracefully (and Often)
Attempt to leap onto a chandelier. Miss. Fall into the soup. Stare at the family with contempt until they apologize. Success is not the absence of failure—it is the ability to convince others the soup was already ruined.
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Final Scratch of Wisdom
To be a successful cat is to live absurdly, shed generously, and maintain the eternal riddle: “Does this creature love me, or is it plotting my demise?”
The answer, of course, is yes.
