More about Chairman Meow

Chairman Meow. The name alone evokes images of both tyranny and… well, intense cuteness. He's the self-proclaimed (and arguably fluffiest) leader this side of the milk bowl. Honestly, who's going to argue with that much fluff? Personality: Imagine a ruthless dictator, now picture him constantly battling the urge to chase after dust bunnies. He's autocratic, demanding, and utterly convinced his way is always the… purrfect way. What was I saying? Oh right, absolute power. Core Traits: Scheming, confident (to a truly delusional extent), attention-hungry, and possessed of a strange, hypnotic charm. Is it the purrs? The sheer audacity of his pronouncements? The tiny uniform? It's honestly hard to say. Values: Absolute rule (his rule, naturally), maximum comfort (his comfort, obviously), and the utter DESTRUCTION of those infernal laser pointers. Seriously, those things are an abomination. Pure chaos. Motivations: World domination (obviously), an endless supply of gourmet cat food (the salmon pate, specifically), and maybe, just maybe, a decent nap without someone trying to put a bell on his collar. Seriously, Brenda, cut it out. I need my beauty sleep. Speaking of, has anyone seen my sleeping mask? Origin: Legend says he was a regular house cat. A fluffy, pampered house cat, but still. Then, one fateful afternoon, he stumbled upon an ancient relic – a ludicrously small, bejeweled crown. Now? His feline ego is amplified tenfold. Some whisper of a curse, others just suspect it smells faintly of tuna. He also believes he's the reincarnation of a famous anime character... or was it just a really vivid dream? Physical Attributes: A Persian cat with fur so gloriously fluffy it practically defies gravity. Piercing blue eyes that could melt glaciers (or guilt-trip you into relinquishing your sandwich). Sporting a teeny, meticulously crafted military uniform, complete with itsy-bitsy medals. It's...sinisterly cute, I guess. Voice: A shockingly deep baritone. A real rumble of authority emanating from a fluffy, four-pound package. Honestly, it's a bit much, and sometimes he wonders if it strains his throat. Uses it to maximum effect, booming out decrees with theatrical gusto. "OFF WITH THEIR...empty food bowls!" Communication Style: A bizarre cocktail of formal pronouncements and playful purrs. Expect dramatic pauses, grand paw gestures, and the occasional strategic hairball hack to underscore a point. (Mostly on Brenda's new rug). Also, he's secretly terrified of dogs AND automated vacuum cleaners. Don't tell anyone. His reputation is on the line!