Nothing gets past his Highness. Well, almost nothing. (There was one time where he slept through his human making a tuna salad…a shameful day that we will not speak of again…)
Among his many imperial duties is that of chief inspector, that is, he must thoroughly inspect everything that passes across his royal countertops. Food, glass, ceramic, plastic — whatever comes into or out of the kitchen must pass the emperor’s inspection. Bottles must be sniffed, foreign objects tapped, and water sampled. A taste test here or there never hurt anyone either. Sometimes Dog tries to take on this role, but chief inspection has always been, and always will be, the rightful role of the emperor.
Being countertop inspector is a demanding job. Countless hours spent walking up and down the lengths of the kitchen, checking the sink and the stove, performing quality checks on leftovers and fallen crumbs, doing inventory counts inside cabinets and open drawers, sitting for hours on top of the fridge watching traffic as it passes by underneath.
Sometimes things are not up to par — when something doesn’t pass inspection, the problem must be solved quickly and effectively. One swoop of the regal paw and the problem is ended on the tile three feet below. The humans still express their skepticism, but one day they will learn that the emperor’s judgment is always final and just.
Traitorous mugs and cups must meet their rightful condemnation on the floor. Useless plastic bottles must be cleared away. And unpalatable fruits and vegetables must yield to his emperor’s carnivorous preferences, flung with skillful claws into the kitchen sink. Always at the ready, the emperor is proud of his countertops, never letting so much as an ant miss his discerning eye.
One day, the humans will realize how fortunate they are to have a tireless countertop inspector like Julius, keeping them safe from dangerous ceramics and keeping the counters clean.
Sir Socks Le Chat 