Cupboard Love

Well, it appears we've reached a new stage in the ongoing saga of feline eccentricities. Kitty – our resident furry anarchist – has decided that the kitchen cupboard, formerly reserved for tins of soup, olives, and an overabundance of mixed beans, is now prime property for her afternoon naps. Who knew that the humble kitchen cupboard would become a cat condominium?

 

It began innocently enough. We left the cupboard door ajar, an oversight that in any household with a cat is akin to issuing an engraved invitation. Kitty, with all the subtlety of a Victorian explorer discovering new lands, promptly claimed it as her own. One moment, I was reaching for a tin of butter beans; the next, I was met with a pair of suspiciously squinting eyes, nestled snugly between jars of pickles and a packet of lentils.

The scene is something out of a domestic comedy sketch. Imagine opening your cupboard in search of ingredients for dinner, only to be met by a black-and-white puffball, curled up as if to say, “This is mine now. You can have the olives, but don’t even think about disturbing my nap.” Kitty has arranged herself on a makeshift throne of a tea towel (which, let’s be honest, was never destined for greatness in the first place), adding a touch of regal disdain to her expression.

Of course, this new perch has presented us with logistical challenges. Every time we need a can of soup, we’re met with a dilemma – disturb the cat, or endure the cat's glare of righteous indignation? Spoiler: The soup stays put. It's amazing how quickly one can be trained to adapt to feline preferences. Meals are now planned around which cupboard Kitty isn't occupying.

The funny part is that this cupboard isn’t even particularly warm or comfortable by human standards. But therein lies the feline logic: if it’s inconvenient for you, it’s perfect for them. In Kitty’s mind, she’s found a prime piece of real estate with a panoramic view of the kitchen – the perfect spot from which to observe the culinary goings-on below while remaining majestically above it all.

We’ve considered gently evicting her, but let’s face it – anyone who has ever cohabited with a cat knows how that would end. She’d simply relocate to a more inconvenient cupboard. Perhaps the one where we keep the pasta. Or worse, she’d take up residence on the kitchen counter, a move that would result in endless debates about hygiene and the futility of trying to outmanoeuvre a determined cat.

For now, we’ve resigned ourselves to our new cupboard arrangement. Kitty seems content with her dominion over the pantry, and we’re learning to live around her whims. It’s a classic case of feline takeover – one cupboard at a time. Next up, the bread bin? Let's hope not. Still, there’s something undeniably charming about it. Seeing her there, snoozing among the tins, adds a bit of whimsy to our daily routine. It's a reminder that life’s little surprises often come with whiskers and an attitude problem.

And really, who wouldn’t want a cupboard cat? It’s all the rage in unconventional interior decor these days, surely. If Kitty had an Instagram account, she’d be trending by now.