The sign on the wall is not merely decoration, it is a declaration of law, CAT TERRITORY, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. Within this zone stands a grey, carpeted skyscraper, a bustling metropolis where residency is determined by claw sharpness and the ability to ignore personal space.
At the very summit sleeps the Emperor. The dark tabby has secured the penthouse suite, the highest point in the room. He does not govern, he slumbers. His heavy sleep suggests he has no fear of being overthrown, for he occupies the only spot that truly matters.
Just below the peak, the Middle Management tier is in full swing. A grey tabby has draped himself luxuriously across the roof of the central cubby, his tail dangling purposefully in front of the entrance below. He is the landlord of the box, and he enjoys making noise on the ceiling. To his left sits the Sentinel, a dark grey lookout who stares intensely into the middle distance, perhaps guarding the fortress against invisible bugs or the sound of a treat bag opening three rooms away.
Further down, the population density reaches critical levels. The hammock sector is a tangle of limbs and fur. A tuxedo cat has completely liquefied, melting into the fabric bowl in a display of supreme relaxation. Beside him, a white and brown tenant clings to the edge of the platform, seemingly content to be a part of the structural integrity of the tower.
Finally, at the foundation, rests the Orange Tabby. He is the doorman, the anchor, the solid rock upon which this tower of naps is built. While others scramble for altitude, he occupies the ground floor with a stoic dignity, waiting for the dinner bell that he knows he will hear first.
This is not just a piece of furniture, it is a vertical society, fully occupied and operating at maximum fuzziness.
Shannon Willis can usually be found in the company of furry friends. A passionate animal enthusiast, her work is often inspired by her deep love for cats, dogs, and the animal kingdom as a whole.
