“Cat is a cat is a cat, and there can be no doubt about that” Gun Roswell

Cat of cats

The cat on the pavement proudly sat, like the king of the hill, or the guard of the heap, but never the place to sleep, only a place of worship.

It was the very spot that this specific cat always came to watch them all, right on the dot at the turning of the clock it was there present, like a heavens sent

The place totally sacred for the cat kind, there was no denying, it was either by the them all to be worshipped or then even possessed

Most likely the latter, as this cat of cats was treated as such, the other neighbourhood cats bringing treats and other stuff for it to feast upon

Whatever the case might have been, I doubt it is for the lowly hoomans to be seen as the cats life their own lives separate from anyones

But observing this cat of cats keeping its court for the few hours before taking its cue and leaving the same designated spot it had stayed on

Not to be seen or heard of until such time again the very next day, right on the dot when the cat of cats once again emerged from the shadows to regain its spot again