Supreme Overlord Stephen would not respond to any other name than that: Supreme Overlord Stephen, spoken aloud, in full.
He had sharp pointy ears, a squashed snout, and large blue eyes that, when he wasn’t sleeping, could pierce through your soul. He demanded high-quality food: no Whiskas for Supreme Overlord Stephen, only cans of the highest-quality tuna, topped with chilled Chablis.
The day the lumbering idiot – Jack, a brown-eyed, slack-jawed mutt – moved in was the beginning of the end of Supreme Overlord Stephen’s dominance.
Jack was larger, of course. If it ever came to a fight, Jack would win, but Supreme Overlord Stephen kept the mutt at bay thanks to Jack’s friendly, docile manner; a few swipes with the claws had put him in his place.
Still, the humans gave Jack all the attention, mainly because Jack gave them his. Whereas before, they had to work to get Supreme Overlord Stephen to come near them, let alone settle on them for a pat or two, Jack was constantly around, and they were constantly delighted by his presence. When they returned home, Jack stood by the door to greet them, while Supreme Overlord Stephen continued watching from the window upstairs. When they served dinner, Jack waited patiently, and dove in immediately, while Supreme Overlord Stephen sniffed, considered, refused for some time, and occasionally ate a little, providing the tuna was fresh, the dish was clean, and the Chablis was of a proper vintage and still chilled.
Jack’s sycophancy (and occasional meal thefts) first forced Supreme Overlord Stephen to eat more quickly, then to actively seek attention. Even then, Jack usually received more love.
The one thing he wouldn’t do, though, was respond to any name other than Supreme Overlord Stephen. Though it was called out less regularly these days, he still felt the proper superiority every time he heard their puny little human voices request his presence.