Record 73 – The Chair War Begins

Soot found the tallest office chair within seconds – a huge, padded thing that looked like a fallen throne. He circled it twice, sniffed the armrests, sat, stood, circled again, then finally muttered with absolute conviction, “This one’s mine.”

Repsik went for another chair, a smaller one on wheels. The moment he touched it, it rolled away with a soft whrrr, sending him scrambling after it in a frantic half-hop, half-slide. Lima let out a tiny giggle – a breathy, embarrassed sound she immediately apologized for.

Ridge climbed onto a low chair, tested it with one paw, then announced that it “didn’t trust him,” and stepped off with great dignity to find another.

I tried to gather everyone toward the center of the room, away from the edges where instincts spike. But the office chairs were too tempting – soft, elevated, perfect for claiming. Every cat seemed determined to choose their own high ground, their own symbolic seat of authority. Logic evaporated under the weight of comfort.

Then came the moment that broke what little order we had:
Soot stretched proudly across his tall chair – too proudly – and the whole thing tilted backwards.

He toppled over in a single, glorious flip, landing flat on his back with a heavy thud that echoed through the empty office.

He popped up instantly, fur fluffed, dignity shattered.
“No one saw that,” he growled.

Lima leaned toward Repsik and whispered, “We all saw that.”
Repsik nodded with the solemnity of a cat witnessing history.

In minutes, the group had devolved into cushioned chaos – competitive, determined, territorial predators fighting not for land or warmth… but for office seating.

Comfort had turned them ridiculous – and oddly dangerous.