Emperor Julius has often spoken about his humans’ various attempts to put him on diets now and again–despite the fact that he has tirelessly tried to convince them that it is more becoming for an emperor to sport a bit of pudge rather than the alternative, unfortunately they seem to have fallen hook, line, and sinker for the mis-directions of the vet, and as such they continue to insist that he must lose a few pounds.

This struggle has been ongoing for a number of years now, and for a while, it seemed that Julius had begun to gain the upper paw. Despite initial periods of famine, he soon learned to act strategically, exploiting the humans at their weak points, namely their need for sleep. Much advantage could be gained, he found, by sneaky tactics intended to chip away at the humans’ early morning repose. Humans are particularly vulnerable in those few liminal hours around sunrise, and it is during this time that they seem to be particularly defensive of their sleep. A steadily increasing repertoire of annoyance–tapping paws, solicitous meows, aggressive headbutts–is often be enough to motivate acquiescence in them at this time of morning.

And for some time, this approach worked for Emperor Julius. He found that the humans often did not have the energy or the wherewithal to fight him on his protests, and he could contentedly expect some extra snacks in the morning or throughout the day when the humans did not feel like dealing with him screaming at them.

Then alas, overnight, he found his tactics no longer worked like they used to…

His humans had introduced the robot.

They were excited about it, so at first he assumed it must be a good thing. There was much flurry and activity around his food, kibble being measured and poured, calories counted, settings set up. The humans beamed with pride when they stepped away. He was left with a new companion alongside his water bowl, a shiny, tall metal robot-thing that they said would soon be his new best friend: Autofeeder. He felt a little fluttering of hope–maybe Autofeeder would join him and be a friend and supporter on his quest for increased rations.

But Autofeeder turned out to be nothing like Julius had imagined. He found his cries about famine now fell on deaf and uncaring metal ears. Autofeeder sat unperturbed and impervious on the counter, dispensing only as much food as the vet prescribed, not one kibble more. And now the humans did not seem even the slightest bit compassionate in the mornings, even in the wee hours when they used to be so malleable. They would just close their eyes and turn their backs to him, saying that Autofeeder would take care of him soon.

Such betrayal! Disappointment!

Now Emperor Julius is back to the drawing board, only this time with fewer tricks up his furry sleeves. He has yet to figure out how to manipulate the cold, battery-driven heart of Autofeeder. So far threats, supplication, and begging have failed to work, so he is going to have to think of something else.

One day, the robot will be his.

One day.

In Emperor Julius’ last post, he spoke of his observations of the world beyond, as well as his contentedness in remaining a strictly indoor emperor even in the face of garrulous goings-on outside of his empire’s borders. While it’s true that the realm beyond has not held much sway over his Royal Highness, there are other areas that do tempt and summon him with their intense mystery, namely the places within his own imperial borders that he has not yet been privy to exploring: the strange, shadow-shrouded, cut-off realms known to him only as the Great Mysteries.

As you readers might already know, especially if you are familiar with cats, mysteries are not things they find acceptable–at least if the mysteries are kept from them. Cats are very fond of having their own mysteries, such as secret hiding places where hair ties and Q-tips can be squirreled away for later, but it is very much a faux pas if the humans keep mysteries from them. Cats are, after all, the rulers of the house, and it is simply not fitting to keep things from your felines. But evidently Julius’ humans are still being schooled in the ways of the world, and as such, it is left up to Emperor Julius to figure out the true nature of these Great Mysteries.

There are three Great Mysteries in his house, but out of all of these, one concerns Julius more than the rest. The other two are more minor Mysteries, ones that he can probably save for a rainy day. (He believes the humans have dubbed them “closets”.) These can wait, for the third Great Mystery is far greater than any of these. At the edge of one of his borders lies a door that he is not supposed to go through, and beyond that door lies dark, cacophonous realm of hidden activity, a place with a portal of some sort through which things like groceries come in and trash bags leave. The humans tramp in and out of it each day, bringing with them foreign smells of unknown and faraway places.

On a few rare occasions, Julius managed to make quick missions into this place, running like a furtive spy, and he found it cavernous and cold and dark, full of smells unlike anything he had ever found before. While exploring there, he also discovered a strange animal that lives alone in the dark, something completely unlike a cat or a dog or a mouse, with cold metal skin and a belly full of gasoline. Sometimes it roars with a frightening sound like that of a lion, but Dog does not seem to fear it. He is allowed to go through the door into this world, and he is quite happy to do so. (Either he is very stupid, or he is in some kind of cahoots with the great beast.)

But indeed the truth of this Great Mystery and the beast that lives within it has not been fully uncovered yet, for Julius’ trips into this strange realm have been kept quite short. His humans, clearly not wanting him to discover the true depth of the Great Mystery, quickly shoo him back over the border into his own realm again. Thankfully the beast is quiet at night and seems to sleep soundly, and, to date, it has not yet tried to make moves on Julius’ land. The humans continue to go in and out, taking the beast for its long walks.

One day, perhaps, Julius will finally uncover the truth. Until then, he will be waiting (and listening) on the other side of the door.