A grey Scottish fold rescue cat is proving that in Belgian politics, the real power might lie with the one who naps on the windowsill. Maximus Textoris Pulcher, the official feline resident at the Belgian prime minister's office on Rue de la Loi 16 in Brussels, has become a social media sensation, offering the public a unique, furry window into the corridors of power.
From Shelter to Stardom: The Rise of a Political Pet
Prime Minister Bart De Wever, who took office in February, announced the cat's residency in August. De Wever, described as a lifelong "cat person," adopted the abandoned cat from a refuge. The cat's mock-grandiose name, a nod to the PM's love of Latin and Roman history, translates to "De Wever's beautiful Maximus" (Textoris meaning "of the weaver").
While Britain has long had Larry the Cat at 10 Downing Street, Maximus has quickly carved out his own niche. With over 142,000 followers on Instagram, his account is now the second most popular political profile in Belgium, trailing only his master's. The account features the cat in various poses—stretching for toys, lounging on sills, or being tickled to an electropop soundtrack.
More Than Just Cute: The Subliminal Political Message
Unlike the officially apolitical Larry, Maximus's posts often contain wry commentary on Belgium's political life. During a three-day national strike in November against proposed spending cuts, a Maximus thought bubble simply read: "Another strike." In another post, as De Wever's five-party coalition was locked in gruelling budget talks, a grumpy-looking Maximus lay on the floor with the caption: "Even on Sunday, these nuisances [cabinet ministers] are here."
Professor Dave Sinardet, a political scientist at the Free University of Brussels, argues the account carries a "subliminal political message." Frequent images of De Wever reading papers late at night next to his cat portray the prime minister as a dedicated, hard worker. "It can help to reinforce his warmer side," Sinardet said, noting De Wever is often perceived as competent and strong but less warm.
A Purr-fect Strategy for Modern Politics
The account, run as a low-effort part of De Wever's team's work, aligns with the PM's known use of social media to share curated glimpses of an unpretentious life—from taking a tram to ironing a shirt before a summit. For Maximus, the running gag is that he's the real boss, sometimes even ventriloquising his master's thoughts. After a tough EU summit, one post showed Maximus telling De Wever: "Congratulations, you are a hero," subtly suggesting the PM saved the day.
Sinardet notes that the account "creates a positive vibe" for those who find politics boring or conflict-ridden, though Maximus playfully leans into that conflict. One image of the cat outside a cabinet meeting window carried the bubble: "And they complain about my mewling." The professor also suggested that any politician who complains about the cat's posts risks appearing sour, thereby only reinforcing De Wever's position.
From a rescued stray to a social media maestro with a political purr, Maximus Textoris Pulcher has undoubtedly become a beloved and strategically clever fixture in Belgian public life.
