12th-century English paw prints send the online cat community on a funny field trip: 'Paws that launched a thousand "aww"s'

I, Sir Fluffington the Fearless, royal mouser and occasional bread-kneader of the 12th century, have a confession: I left my paws on the stones of St. Peter's Church, Wormleighton. Not just metaphorically. Literally. Furrever.

The humans were carving big fancy rocks for their very serious church project - chisel here, hammer there, "architecture" and "holy purpose" blah blah. Naturally, they needed a highly skilled supervisor. Enter me. Tail high, whiskers immaculate, I sashayed across those freshly set stones with the confidence of a cat who knows they own the entire kingdom… and at least 60% of the cheese.

Did I see the mason's face scrunch in horror when he spotted my pawprints? Yes. Did I stop? No. I made eye contact and pressed a second paw down, just to assert dominance. If you don't leave your mark in history, are you even a cat?

Centuries later, humans assume I was "just investigating", "being naughty", or "seeking attention". Wrong. I was creating art. I was signing the floor like a medieval Picasso. My meowgnificent masterpiece.

Now people travel from all over to admire my tiny toe beans immortalized in stone. And I can only imagine the mason still muttering in the afterlife: "This blasted cat ruined my tiles!" Sorry, Geoffrey. The paws decide their own destiny.

So yes, dear humans: cats have been interrupting important projects, walking on wet surfaces, and claiming property since the dawn of time. You may build the monuments… but we will leave the paw prints.