The Queen of Everything

The Queen of Everything demands personal attention. There is an imperious tilt to her head. She holds herself just so and demands absolute compliance.

We are her furniture. She walks on us, finds just the right place and settles in. Nobody moves until The Queen deigns to rise and vacate her couch. Ordinarily, I would not put up with this, but she is the Queen of Everything.

When she was a kitten, she was hit by a car and her pelvis was broken. She was found in front of the emergency animal clinic and taken inside. They repaired the damage and Laura adopted her. Nineteen years later, she has earned the right to use us as furniture any time she likes.

She owns us. She has the deeds. She sublets parts of us to the other cats for a price. When their time-shares expire, she reclaims us. She patiently grooms us and sees that we are kept in good working order. She continues to get a good return on her investment.

She is treated with deference by every animal in the house. She walks where she pleases and sits where she likes. She has personally mothered every kitten who arrived to join the household. Her gait is slow now and she walks haltingly, tail held high. Her injured pelvis won't allow her to jump, so she climbs things instead. She weighs no more than a dry leaf. She spends her days perched in a sunny south window, watching that part of the world that unfolds at this end of our little cul-de-sac.

We dread the day that is surely coming, but for now, Hobbes is the Queen of Everything. Long live the Queen!

Postscript: On September 22, 2010, Ms Hobbes went to the Rainbow Bridge.  She used up every ounce of cat she had in her and went out in true Hobbes style.  I am happy to have been a part of her life.  

photo credit: Laura Hoffman