Learning to play Cat Chess and why dogs are like Robbie Williams

Every time I think I've got this one figured out, those damn cats come up with a new rule!  Okay, so the small black cat can only move in a straight line, the ginger one can go sideways, and the tabby is allowed to jump over all other cats, but only if there isn't a dog in the room?  Is that right?  And, if so, where does the big black one go?

                                    All right, clever clogs, YOU tell me which one of these is winning?!

I have given up trying to figure out cats. Dogs are easier.  Dog have ball = dog happy.  Dog have dinner = dog happy.  Dog left alone while owner goes to work = dog not quite so happy but prepared to be forgiving and ecstatic on owner's return.  Leave a cat for more than half an hour and, upon your return, it will pretend to have forgotten your name, if you're lucky, and if you're not, it will have forgotten your existence and be opening a jar of caviar and sitting in your chair to watch the latest QI episode.

                                                    Dog - ball - happy

                                             "Your face is vaguely familiar, do I know you?"

What you acquire as a cute, fluffy little kitten that plays with your toes and sleeps on your shoulder, grows up to make remarks about your ability to handle the staff, your general culinary prowess and your manners, viz your way of cutting your toenails in front of Strictly Come Dancing.  It's a bit like rearing a baby Princess.  Whereas dogs are bundles of enthusiasm and acceptance of your nastier habits (because they have plenty of their own), which, I like to think, is more like rearing a tiny Robbie Williams.

And there I leave you.  I have to, the cat wants the chair.