Conflict of Interest

Part 2 of Party Games

I’ve heard that there is a ‘honeymoon’ period of popularity enjoyed by a new leader and I was keen to capitalize on this in my first few weeks in office by ditching some of Serafina’s ill-advised policies while introducing some new ones of my own.

Unfortunately I was only about a week into my new leadership role when one of the worst things that can happen to a cat, happened to me. We moved house! At first I thought this was down to my new position, like moving into number 10 Downing Street or Parliament House but no, as it happened we only moved about 300 metres up the road. It’s a nice house and I’m not complaining but when I took over as leader I had proclaimed that we would hold regular meetings every Tuesday under the deck at Ranui Crescent and I was concerned my new living arrangements may not have filtered through to my Cabinet colleagues. In a strange way this was how I arrived at one of my new policy ideas.

“A lot of cats get completely lost when they move house,” I said at our Tuesday evening cabinet meeting. “What we need to do is introduce compulsory micro-chipping for cats!”

Thankfully I had been able to sneak out of the house while Mummy, who has MS, was struggling to get in and out of the front door with her crutch while laden with boxes. I had been waiting for this opportunity and raced round to the old place in Ranui Crescent and waited for the others to arrive.

“You’ll struggle to get support for compulsory chipping,” said Serafina who hadn’t quite been able to completely step back from bossing everyone around and amongst other things, was now acting as a ‘consultant’.

“A mandatory measure would be a very courageous decision,” cautioned Squeak.

“Then let’s be courageous!” I said boldly. “Are we not descendants of lions – the most courageous of beasts? Let’s do this!”

“Shall we call you Chippy then?” said Ron, giggling at his own whimsical wordplay.

“Madeline says that cats are injected with dog DNA when they’re micro-chipped,” remarked Smokey O’Neill who had taken over the Dog portfolio from Serafina.

“Madeline is a dog and therefore is an idiot,” remarked Serafina with conviction.

“While they’re at the vet they should be compulsorily neutered!” said Spooke, who held the Kitten portfolio.

“Great idea!” I declared, in full lion mode now. “The Chip and Snip Mandate!”

“Oh God,” said Squeak. “I’m foreseeing all sorts of unforeseen problems.”

“lf they’re unforeseen how can you foresee them?” I questioned.

“I foresee that you are going to go down in Diamond Harbour history as Snippy Chippy,” giggled Ron.

After that pretty much everything went completely pear-shaped. I blame Ron, or Kitty Catnippy as we all started calling him after he’d given us so much catnip that virtually none of the Cabinet could remember what their portfolios were, let alone have the wherewithal to remember the rules laid out in the Cabinet manual.

It wasn’t long before a reporter from the Bay Harbour News got wind of our meeting and turned up and asked me to define a woman. I could see Squeak shaking his head in a cautionary way, but at this stage of the evening I could boldly foresee the best way to deal with this.

“Speak to Spooke,” I replied, well pleased with my clever alliteration. “My esteemed female Cabinet colleague in charge of Domestic Violence.”

“Oh, I’ve spoken to Spooke,” said the reporter, also enjoying the play on words, “on the subject of domestic violence and HE has informed me that he knows who causes all the cat violence in Diamond Harbour. It is caused by male feral tabbies.”

“Did she? Um, … he?” My jaw dropped to the ground then I started to babble. I had known Spooke for a couple of years now and had never considered the possibility that she, I mean he, might be anything other than female. “Well, that’s probably quite correct.”

Hell, this wasn’t the right thing to say. “um … I mean about she/he not liking motorbikes and tomato juice.”

I was talking rubbish and I knew it. Thankfully Ron cut in at this point but I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I think it would be fair to say that Weasley doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with this right now. To be honest he is giving it 110% and has really hit the ground running in his first couple of weeks as leader. He has created the right synergies to smash through the glass ceiling. The new normal will be to think outside the box and pivot so we can go after low-hanging fruit. Tell you what, let’s circle back and take this offline. Ping me and let’s touch base.”

But the reporter was not about to be put off by Ron’s peculiar drivel.

“I have it on good authority that Weasley comes from a long and quite prestigious lineage in Diamond Harbour. It comes as no surprise that his sister, Serafina Pekkala has been appointed as trustee of a program that awards funds to projects aiming to save the planet. His brother, Winston has been appointed as Weasley’s chief political advisor. Another brother, answering to the name of Grey Worm is the chosen commander of the Unsullied. Mango, yet another family member is head of a consultancy firm that enjoys several lucrative government contracts, and a statue has been erected in Purau in honour of his mother Lily which was paid for by the taxpayer. Would you like me to go on?”

“Why do the media always need to be muck raking like this? Why can’t they talk about our successes?” I whispered to Squeak.

“I think it’s time we went home,” said Squeak and everyone seemed to disappear. I realised that I wanted to go home too. I mean I really wanted to go home. This place wasn’t home anymore. There was no furniture in the house. There was no bowl. There was no Mummy. Ron stayed for a while and we finished off the catnip before he said: “See ya Chippy.”

I got to my feet and started to walk rather unsteadily. I don’t know if it was the effects of the catnip but I soon realised I had absolutely no recollection of where my new home was. I gave a plaintive meow, collapsed into the nearest hedge and passed out.

Thankfully I had only made it as far as the neighbours place in Ranui Crescent. She contacted Mummy who came round, gave me some treats then put me in the cat carrier and took me home.

Last night I sat on Mummy’s lap purring loudly as we watched King Charles’ coronation on television. I don’t envy King Charles one bit.

Being a famous public figure might be all very well but it’s not for me.