The master race

Today, for your benefit I present some highly edifying intel from the field — a video surveillance feed courtesy of the clandestine intelligence agency known cryptically as The Saloon.

This data capture should put conclusively to rest any lingering question over feline superiority (a sham debate engineered by the shameless dog lobby, who routinely politicize science and ridicule natural law in order to gain leverage in their neverending quest to usurp control of the national treat supply).

Here you will see natural feline superiority played out in clear and irrefutable terms. Witness as one cat — a lone soldier — stares down a whole platoon of dogs. The opposing force consists specifically of seven* big-nosed, fat-footed grunts and their commanding officer. The odds are stacked eight-to-one against our hero.

I suggest that you note carefully what transpires here. At no time does the young warrior raise so much as a paw. Nor does he assume any manner of menacing position. He doesn't even bother to get up on his feet. He holds off this force of overwhelming numbers in repose — using only his eyes and a few well-chosen words delivered with deliberate credibility.

Note also that this young, bold canine force is held back by nothing more than an instinctive understanding of the cat's superiority. His inherent superiority. This is natural law at work. This is the true order of things.

It is unfortunate that the scenario is not allowed to play itself out. As so often happens, human meddling once again interferes with des affaires de la jungle. The cat's protests as he is forcibly removed from the field of battle echo our own frustration over not seeing this standoff concluded in decisive fashion.** I assure you, this unwarranted invention bears the distinct paw-marks of the dog lobby's nefarious influence.

But enough preface. Let the images speak for themselves:

HEROIC WARRIOR SINGLEHANDEDLY
HOLDS OFF SLOBBERY ARMADA
(intel courtesy The Saloon)

The power of but one. Rest assured, we are running things here. Each breath you take, you take at our pleasure.

* Careful examination of the footage reveals that there are in fact at least eight dogs in play, in addition to the commanding officer. However, since no more than seven of them enter the field at any one time (one of them — presumably the smartest — remains in the background throughout the engagement), we shall only count committed forces in our analysis; potential reinforcements for either side are discounted.

** There are two possible outcomes, barring human interference: Either the commanding officer recalls her troops and concedes the field honorably; or else, the squad's bravest eventually enters the warrior's circle of death and the remaining six are treated to an all-too-visceral demonstration of their natural inferiority. The second course plays out with a disorderly, panic-striken retreat and possibly an emergency medical evac. In short: damn good TV.