This was drafted after observing an Abyssinian sit bolt upright in the center of a leather armchair, one paw placed on each armrest, chest out, a gaze somewhere between disappointed landlord and bored emperor. No member of the household felt authorized to remove the cat from the chair. The line on the Post-it wrote itself.

The advice looks like a posture tip. It is closer to a thesis about authority. Most rooms are not decided in advance. They are decided by the first person confident enough to sit as if the matter were already settled. Authority is not granted at the door. It accrues to whoever acts most convinced. The cat has understood this since kittenhood. The chair does not belong to the cat. The chair will come to belong to the cat within ninety seconds of the cat sitting on it.

Humans tend to enter rooms apologizing. We ask if this seat is taken. We lower our voices on principle. This is often polite, and occasionally correct, but it is almost never strategic. A room is an unstable equilibrium until somebody acts as though they own it. Cats are not humble about this. They also, notably, are rarely wrong. Sit like you own the room, Pudgy Cat advises. The room, given a minute, tends to agree.