An agent of chaos: Bad Arthur

The decision to bring Arthur home in 2022 was less a well-thought-out plan and more a whirlwind of affectionate panic.

Meghanne had met Arthur — then named “Ranta” — several months before while volunteering with the Alberta Animal Rescue Crew Society (AARCS) in Calgary. The decision to volunteer was driven by her desire to spend time with animals without actually owning one, a compromise that went right out the window when she learned that Arthur was being transferred to a cat cafe to be put up for adoption.

Meghanne had come to look forward to her nights at the shelter with Arthur, where the wide-eyed short-haired orange kitten would scramble out of his kennel onto her chest and aggressively head-butt her in the face every time she opened the door, meowing and purring like a tiny diesel generator.

Driven briefly insane by the thought of him going home with someone else, Meghanne set an alarm for midnight the day his application went live to be the first one to apply. Two days later, on February 6, 2022, she picked Arthur up from the shelter and brought him home for good.

Arthur’s first days in his new home were a blur of sweet snuggles and systematic destruction. The succulent garden Meghanne had been nurturing for five years was the first casualty — she would return home each day to find the pots shattered and the butchered plants spread throughout the condo. Then went the paintings, which she had to nail to the walls after Arthur began pulling them off their hooks, followed by the curtains, which had to be tied into knots above his reach so he wouldn’t keep trying to scale them and bringing the entire rod crashing down.

Arthur — quickly re-named Bad Arthur — defied imagination with his antics. He flipped the TV not once, but twice, during his late-night zoomie sessions and liked to start each morning by tipping over Meghanne’s desk chair and pushing her monitor off the table.

It became immediately apparent that pens were a prized possession for Arthur and there was nowhere he would not get to them, pulling them from cups and backpacks to frantically chase them around the house before they disappeared into the pen graveyards (beneath the fridge and the couch).

Like a dog, Arthur would play fetch with pens and ping-pong balls and, weirdly, eat shoes.

Yet, amidst the wreckage, a softer side emerged. When not embarking on his daily reign of terror, Arthur was a wonderful cuddler and companion, often climbing onto Meghanne’s chest while she worked or sleeping like a baby in her arms. She found it impossible to stay mad at whatever destruction he had caused when Arthur tried to stick his whole alien head inside her ear or wrapped himself around her neck like a scarf on the couch, still rumbling like a little diesel generator.

Arthur is a blend of devilish charm and unwavering sweetness. His commitment to chaos runs deep, ensuring Meghanne is always kept on her toes. Despite his undeniable knack for creating pandemonium, he remains the most loving companion.

His unique traits only add to his appeal: unnaturally wide-set eyes lend him a perpetually goofy, yet adorable, appearance. He’s also a surprisingly chatty guy, often engaging in full-fledged meow-conversations, whether he’s greeting Meghanne in the morning or being admonished for attempting to dismantle the couch.

Life with Arthur is a constant battle of wits. After nearly four years, just when Meghanne believes the house has been thoroughly cat-proofed, Arthur delights in proving her wrong — finding new and innovative ways to break things she never considered might be at risk (RIP to wall tapestries, shoe rack and photos on the fridge).

While chaotic, Arthur’s habits are also remarkably consistent. He wakes before the sun each morning, screaming for breakfast as though he’s never been fed in his life. When 4 p.m. rolls around, he begins singing the same song, just in case Meghanne forgets to feed him for the first time ever.

When he’s not tearing up the track around the condo or chowing down on meals, Arthur is an Olympic-level napper. He prefers the left side of the couch (where the cushion is permanently covered in orange fur), his cat bed in the living room or under Meghanne’s bed, where he’s torn out the bottom of the box spring so he can crawl up inside the frame to snooze.

Even when she can’t see him, Meghanne always knows where Arthur is napping from the echoing sounds of his snores.

Now four years old, Arthur has only recently begun to dial back the destruction — perhaps because there is little left in the house for him to break, or as the result of his new big brother status.

In May 2025, Meghanne adopted a four-month-old puppy named Henry, introducing a new playmate/victim into their home. Arthur was initially apprehensive of Henry, being a big-pawed boy with virtually no self-control or spatial awareness. However, after a few spats where Arthur firmly established himself as the ruling force in the house, Henry and Arthur are now thick as thieves.

They chase each other around, turning the condo into a certified Thunderdome several times a day. Arthur takes the high ground on the table or counter so he can flying tackle Henry from above, and inserts himself into games of fetch or tug-of-war, holding nothing back. His head is often drenched in Henry’s drool from the puppy’s affectionate (if overwhelming) kisses, something Meghanne believes he is not a fan of but tolerates quite well.

Arthur also does his best to untrain the dog — pulling shoes off the shelf for Henry to chew on and unspooling rolls of dog bags so they can shred and spread them around the condo together.

In their quieter moments, the two can be seen curled up in a sunbeam together or snoozing on the bed side-by-side. In the summer months, they share Henry’s bed on the balcony while Meghanne reads a book and takes 1,500 photos of them together.

Arthur’s presence is undeniably larger than life. For a cat, he is notably neither quiet nor particularly agile, only landing on his feet about 65 per cent of the time.

He enjoys spreading chaos beyond the condo door whenever he can, darting past Meghanne’s feet and galloping down the hallway like Seabiscuit, setting off all the dogs on the floor and prompting the neighbours to poke their heads out in confusion.

For all the destruction, mischief and chaotic evil Arthur brings to Meghanne’s day-to-day, he is the best little friend she could have ever hoped to have. He is a wonderful, irreplaceable addition to her life, and even though she’ll never have a Christmas tree, own another plant or sleep soundly through the night as long as he’s around, she wouldn’t trade it for the world.