The Cat Who Attended the Video Meeting

Photo: Unsplash.

The cat belonged to someone in the meeting, but nobody knew whom.

It appeared as a close-up nose in a video tile labeled Conference Room 2. Then it stepped backward, sat on the table, and looked directly into the camera with the expression of a manager who had joined late and disliked the agenda.

We continued discussing the project timeline. Whenever someone proposed another week, the cat tapped the laptop. The screen shook. A spreadsheet closed. We interpreted this as concern about scope.

“Can whoever is in Conference Room 2 mute?” somebody asked.

The cat was already muted. It simply had presence.

At the decision point, it walked across the keyboard and sent ;;;;;;; into the meeting chat. The project lead paused.

“I think that’s a no,” she said.

We reduced the first release to three features. The cat lay down.

Ten minutes later, an employee rushed into the room, picked it up, and apologized. The cat did not work for the company. It lived in the café downstairs and had entered through a window left open for ventilation.

The meeting ended early with a smaller plan and no unresolved arguments. In the written notes, the decision was attributed to “stakeholder feedback.”

Conference Room 2 has kept its window closed since then. The project was delivered on time. Nobody has been able to prove these events were unrelated.