…THE CHAIN OF COMMAND WAS COLLAPSING BEFORE IT HAD EVEN BEEN ESTABLISHED.
THE ROYAL GUARD ARRIVES
🐾 The Royal Guard Procurement — Part II 🐾
A midnight arrival, an unauthorized occupation of elevated territory, and an immediate reconsideration of military rank.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The lock clicked.
I stood at attention.
At last.
After an entire day of waiting, wondering, and attempting to understand how Big Human intended to retrieve a cat from a cloud...
THE ROYAL GUARD HAD ARRIVED.
Or at least, I assumed he had.
The front door opened.
And there was Big Human.
Looking...
Well.
Terrible.
Not injured.
Not ill.
Just thoroughly exhausted.
Apparently, retrieving a cat from the cloud was a far more complicated operation than anyone had anticipated.
There had been an airplane.
And then driving.
And apparently more driving.
A great deal of driving, from what I gathered.
...
I'm sorry.
DRIVING?
I was under the impression we were dealing with a cloud.
Clouds are in the sky.
Cars are on the ground.
How does one drive to a cloud?
Was there a road?
A ramp?
Some sort of elevated parking facility?
Did the airplane land ON the cloud?
And if so, why was additional driving required?
I had been under the impression that the entire purpose of flying was to eliminate the need for driving.
Clearly, I had misunderstood the transportation arrangements.
Nevertheless, Big Human had returned.
And somewhere among the luggage and assorted travel equipment was my new security officer.
I approached to greet her.
As King.
Naturally.
I expected an immediate briefing.
A full report.
An explanation of the candidate's qualifications.
And, preferably, an apology for conducting a major personnel acquisition without my direct involvement.
Instead, Big Human looked down at me and sighed.
This was not encouraging.
The household was asleep.
Lil Human and Gigi had retired for the night.
The Padfoots had been secured in their room.
Finan was snoring.
Sarah was running in her sleep.
But she was asleep.
And I had been maintaining my lonely vigil from the dining room table.
Ordinarily, I would have insisted upon a carefully managed introduction.
One resident at a time.
A controlled environment.
An orderly inspection.
Perhaps a brief probationary period.
Possibly a written examination.
But Big Human appeared to have abandoned the entire onboarding procedure.
Something about it being the middle of the night.
Something about a very long day.
Something about needing to get the new gentleman out of his carrier.
Apparently, after the flight and all this mysterious driving, the poor fellow had been traveling for quite some time.
He needed to stretch.
He needed water.
He needed access to the facilities.
Reasonable requests.
Even a security officer must attend to personal matters.
And so...
The laundry room was designated as the temporary reception facility.
It contained a litter box.
It had a door.
And, most importantly, it could temporarily contain one very large orange gentleman while Big Human attempted to remember how to function.
A sensible enough arrangement.
Under the circumstances.
I followed her down the hallway.
By this point, Finan had awakened.
Of course he had.
Finan considers any activity in the household an invitation to participate.
Sarah had awakened as well.
Because heaven forbid anything happen without Sarah being involved.
The three of us assembled outside the laundry room.
The door was cracked.
And from somewhere on the other side...
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
...
What.
WAS.
That?
I leaned closer.
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Good heavens.
It sounded like a small engine operating somewhere inside the laundry room.
A very large, very satisfied engine.
I had expected a greeting.
Perhaps a meow.
Possibly a formal request for entry into the kingdom.
Instead, the gentleman appeared to be idling.
And quite loudly.
Sarah answered.
Not politely, but with a hiss.
As usual.
Finan made a noise.
A chirp.
As usual.
I made a noise.
A dignified meow, of course.
Sarah hissed again.
There was considerable vocal activity.
None of it particularly diplomatic.
I would like the record to reflect that the disturbance was occurring entirely on OUR side of the door.
The new gentleman, meanwhile, continued to purr.
Not a hiss, growl, or even a meow.
Just that deep, rumbling engine.
This was either a sign of extraordinary composure...
Or the gentleman had arrived with his motor running.
I had not yet decided.
Big Human looked at the three of us.
Then at the laundry room.
Then back at us.
She sighed again.
Apparently, she had reached the end of her administrative capabilities for the evening.
"You're such a chill dude," she told the new gentleman.
"And you're big enough to hold your own. I'm off to bed."
...
EXCUSE ME?
THAT WAS THE ORIENTATION?
That was the entire introduction protocol?
No supervised meetings?
No formal chain-of-command briefing?
No presentation to the King?
No security clearance?
Just...
You're a chill dude. Good luck.
I was appalled.
But before I could lodge an objection...
The door opened.
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
HE WAS HUGE.
Not large.
Not substantial.
Not merely an impressive specimen of Maine Coon masculinity.
HUGE.
An enormous orange gentleman emerged from the laundry room.
There was fur.
There were paws.
There were EXTRA paws, or at least enough toes to suggest that someone had been unusually generous during assembly.
There was a magnificent tail.
And a head that appeared entirely too large for the average household cat.
A head twice—no, perhaps THREE times—the size of Finan's.
I...
We all stared.
For a brief moment, the hallway fell silent.
Then Sarah hissed.
Naturally.
Her standard diplomatic greeting.
Finan, on the other hand...
Finan appeared to have discovered his new personal hero.
I could practically see the admiration forming behind his little tuxedo face.
A large, handsome, confident male.
An impressive presence.
A gentleman who might finally demonstrate how to conduct oneself with dignity.
Although why Finan could not simply observe ME for that purpose remains a mystery.
I straightened.
This was my moment.
The new officer had arrived.
It was time for the formal introduction.
I stepped forward.
Positioned myself appropriately.
Raised my head.
And prepared to establish the hierarchy.
"I AM MARLOWE.
King of this household.
ToeBean-in-Charge.
Chairman of the Feline Procurement Committee.
Commander of the Royal Guard.
And YOUR superior officer.
You have been recruited to serve under my command.
Your duties will include perimeter observation, general security, and the occasional application of force when authorized by—"
The new gentleman sat down.
...
Very well.
Perhaps he was listening.
He lifted one enormous paw.
And began licking it.
...
LICKING.
HIS.
PAW.
I paused.
Surely he would finish his grooming and acknowledge the King.
Perhaps he was nervous.
Perhaps this was a traditional greeting among retired stud cats.
Perhaps...
No.
He was simply cleaning his toes.
All of them.
There appeared to be quite a few.
I waited.
He continued.
I cleared my throat.
He licked another paw.
Then, having apparently completed whatever urgent maintenance operation required his immediate attention...
He stood.
Looked down the hallway.
And walked away.
...
HE WALKED AWAY.
Right past Sarah.
Right past Finan.
And...
RIGHT PAST ME?!
Without so much as a nod.
A bow.
A salute.
Or even a mildly respectful glance.
He strolled down the hallway as though none of us existed.
As though he had always lived here.
As though the entire kingdom had simply been waiting for him to arrive.
I turned to watch.
Surely he was confused.
Surely he would realize that he had just walked past the reigning monarch without acknowledging his presence.
He did not stop.
He entered the kitchen.
I followed... at a dignified distance.
Naturally.
And then...
He jumped onto the kitchen counter.
Hmm.
Well.
Not ideal.
But not unheard of.
I was preparing to address the unauthorized use of kitchen surfaces when he did something entirely unexpected.
He looked up.
Bent his enormous orange body.
And jumped...
ONTO THE REFRIGERATOR.
...
THE REFRIGERATOR?!
I froze.
Sarah stopped.
Finan looked up.
Even Big Human paused to observe.
There he was.
Perched on top of the refrigerator.
Surveying the kitchen.
Calmly.
Comfortably.
As though he had just discovered his personal throne.
...
I have never been on the refrigerator.
NEVER.
Not once.
In all my years of ruling this establishment.
I have occupied the dining room table.
The leather chair.
The back of the sofa.
Various strategically advantageous locations.
But the refrigerator?
WHY HAD I NEVER CONSIDERED THE REFRIGERATOR?
It was magnificent.
An extraordinary vantage point.
An elevated observation platform.
A commanding view of the kitchen.
And...
Wait.
It was higher than the dinosaur birdhouse.
HIGHER THAN THE DINOSAUR BIRDHOUSE.
This was unprecedented.
That enormous orange stranger had been in my kingdom for approximately three minutes and had already discovered the highest available throne.
A throne I had never occupied.
A throne I had never even considered occupying.
And now...
HE WAS SITTING ABOVE ME.
Above.
ME.
The King.
The actual King.
The established monarch.
The original resident feline authority.
NO ONE SITS HIGHER THAN THE KING.
Monarchy 101.
I looked up.
He looked down.
Or perhaps he didn't.
It was difficult to tell.
He seemed perfectly content to observe the room without acknowledging any particular individual.
I was experiencing a profound administrative crisis.
Big Human watched the situation for a few moments.
I was attempting to process a direct challenge to the established social order.
And Maverick...
Maverick was apparently settling into his new home.
Big Human seemed satisfied.
Apparently, the absence of actual combat was sufficient evidence that the introduction had gone well.
She looked at the enormous orange gentleman.
Looked at the rest of us.
And decided that everyone was settled enough for her to finally go to bed.
...
GO TO BED?!
There was a stranger on the refrigerator.
A STRANGER.
ON THE HIGHEST AVAILABLE SURFACE IN THE KITCHEN.
And Big Human was simply going to SLEEP?
I needed assistance.
I needed a committee meeting.
I needed an emergency royal decree.
I needed someone to explain to this orange mountain that the refrigerator was not an available throne.
But Big Human had already retired.
The Padfoots were asleep.
Lil Human and Gigi were asleep.
And I was left to manage the situation myself.
As usual.
I looked up again.
Maverick remained completely unbothered.
Of course he did.
He had no idea what he had done.
Or perhaps...
He knew EXACTLY what he had done.
UNACCEPTABLE.
This required immediate action.
First, there was the matter of rank.
I had previously considered granting him the honorary title of Colonel.
COLONEL MAVERICK.
A distinguished title.
A respectable position.
A generous appointment for a gentleman who had not yet completed orientation.
Clearly, I had been premature.
Colonel?
Absolutely not.
We could not possibly give this individual the rank of Colonel.
He already had an inflated sense of his own importance.
Imagine what would happen if I actually promoted him.
He would probably attempt to occupy the ceiling fan.
No...
No, no, no.
An immediate demotion was necessary.
Captain Maverick.
Hmm.
Still rather prestigious.
Captains have authority.
Captains issue orders.
Captains occasionally command entire operations.
I did not care for that.
Lieutenant Maverick.
Better.
A junior officer.
A respectable but clearly subordinate position.
Someone who reports to a superior.
Namely...
Me.
But even Lieutenant seemed rather generous for an individual who had failed his very first inspection.
Perhaps we should begin with...
Private Maverick.
Hmm.
Wait.
OH.
PRIVATE MOSES TOESES.
...
YES.
Lil Human may have called this one correctly.
More than professional enough, I think.
In fact, rather fitting.
Private Moses Toeses.
An entry-level appointment.
No command authority.
No special privileges.
And certainly no authorization to establish a throne on top of the refrigerator.
Although...
There was another consideration.
FINAN.
I turned toward my little tuxedo associate.
Finan had been a member of this household for considerably longer than the new arrival.
He had demonstrated loyalty.
Commitment.
Enthusiasm.
An impressive willingness to participate in household activities.
Admittedly, his judgment was occasionally questionable.
And he did have a tendency to behave as though every new cat was a long-lost friend.
But still.
SENIORITY MUST COUNT FOR SOMETHING.
Longevity.
Service.
Institutional knowledge.
Finan knew the household.
He knew the routines.
He knew the staff.
He knew where the food was served.
He knew which chair belonged to whom.
He knew that I was King.
Well.
Mostly.
Surely this qualified him for a higher rank than some enormous orange newcomer who had been here for less than an hour.
Perhaps Finan should be promoted.
Not to Colonel.
Let's not get carried away.
But perhaps Captain Finan.
Or Lieutenant Finan.
Yes, that's better.
LIEUTENANT FINAN.
It had a certain ring to it.
And then Maverick could serve beneath him.
Private Moses Toeses.
Under Lieutenant Finan.
Under me.
THE KING.
A perfectly reasonable chain of command.
I looked toward Finan.
He was still staring at Maverick in obvious admiration.
...
Wonderful.
My newly appointed Lieutenant was already idolizing the Private.
THE CHAIN OF COMMAND WAS COLLAPSING BEFORE IT HAD EVEN BEEN ESTABLISHED.
This was not how I had envisioned the arrival of the Royal Guard.
Not remotely.
I had requested a capable security officer.
A loyal subordinate.
A dignified gentleman who would recognize my authority and help maintain order.
Instead, Big Human had traveled into the cloud, endured an apparently endless series of airplanes and automobiles, and returned with an enormous orange cat who had immediately climbed higher than I had ever climbed in my entire life.
And now he was looking entirely too comfortable.
THIS COULD NOT STAND.
I am Marlowe.
I have built this administration.
I have survived Finan.
I have survived Sarah.
I have survived countless acts of household incompetence.
And I was NOT about to be outranked by a retired stud cat with an excess of toes.
A complete restructuring of the Royal Guard would be the first order of business.
A matter of the utmost importance.
I looked up at the enormous orange gentleman one final time.
I considered taking immediate action.
But it was the middle of the night.
Big Human was exhausted.
Finan was uselessly impressed.
Sarah was still issuing objections.
And the Padfoots were unavailable for consultation.
No.
This situation required a coordinated response.
Big Human would need to be rested.
The Padfoots would need to be briefed.
And the new recruit would need to be brought into compliance with the established order.
Preferably before he discovered any surfaces higher than the refrigerator.
I returned to my dining room table pillow.
My pillow.
My table.
My throne.
Still a perfectly respectable throne.
Even if it was...
Slightly lower.
GOOD NIGHT, THEN.
Tomorrow...
We would address the chain of command and establish proper boundaries.
Tomorrow, with Big Human refreshed and the Padfoots available, perhaps we could finally bring this enormous orange gentleman into line.
Until then...
ALL MILITARY PROMOTIONS ARE SUSPENDED.
Especially his.
🐾 ADDITIONAL ADMINISTRATIVE NOTE:
I may also need to prohibit the household from referring to this gentleman as Maverick.
I have reconsidered the implications of that name.
A maverick is an independent thinker.
A rogue.
An individual who disregards convention, challenges authority, and operates outside the established system.
RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE.
Well.
I AM THE MACHINE.
And I will NOT have a subordinate wandering about this kingdom under a name that actively encourages insubordination.
No.
Private Moses Toeses will do quite nicely.
Lil Human has, quite accidentally, made an excellent administrative contribution.
I shall refrain from telling her.
There is no need to encourage further participation in military affairs.
— 🐾 Marlowe — ToeBean-in-Charge 🐾
King of the Household
Commander of the Royal Guard
Chairman of the Feline Procurement Committee
Official Status: Royal Guard Recruitment Completed. Orientation Failed.
Further disciplinary proceedings postponed until morning.