Though he’s not a student, not even human, Prince Omar feels entitled to an education here at Manchester College. Owned by an off-campus MC student, this charismatic feline has managed to sidle or swagger into something close to every building on campus.

One of his favorite prowls is the Administration Building, through which he struts at least once a day. “He came in, just sort of nosed around, acting like he knew where he was going,” said Debbie Stoltzfus, a staff member who has witnessed Omar’s various infiltrations. “Then he turns around and heads back out like he owns the place. He’s cute, really.”

Gary Montel, another MC Administration Building staff member, agreed: “He is a prince; he acts like a prince.”

             
It’s not clear whether Omar’s stately manner or the doting attention of his subjects came first, but the adoration runs deep. “I saw him and I was like, ‘Here, kitty, kitty! What a cute kitty!’” said Katherine Pea, one of Omar’s most devoted followers. “I brought him into my room and fed him tuna and milk and he loved me.”

             
Each person who stumbles upon Omar seems to be enthralled by his cuddly demeanor. “He was in my room for about an hour,” said John Kidwell, a Garver resident who spent time lavishing Omar with attention. “He laid on his back on my bed and I scratched his belly.”

             
This “belly-scratching” is a favorite of Omar’s. “If he sees anyone around campus, he lays down and waits for them to pet his belly,” said first-year Julia Largent. “He followed me into Oakwood, but I didn’t know it.”

Many of Omar’s trysts are born of compassion. Students, staff, and faculty alike feel obligated to share their space and time with him, reluctant to refuse his adorable brand of pleading. “I let him in once when it was snowing,” admitted Laura Kramer, who lives in Oakwood.

             
Drema Drudge is also no stranger to the effects of Omar’s charm. “Yeah, I've been P.O.'ed (Prince Omared).” Drudge said. “Who hasn't on this campus?”

MC student Amanda Patch recalled her earliest memories of Omar: “The cheeky little bugger tried to get into East with me. Then he tried Oakwood. The second time I met him, he managed to climb about six feet high in a pine tree beside Winger and made his way out to the end of the branch. When I walked by he was bouncing up and down on the branch, mildly enjoying the new view, and scrambling to find a way down. When I got him, he cuddled a bit and ran off to find more of his adoring fans.”

             
Prince Omar goes by different aliases, including Prince Albert, Humphrey, Cat, and Dawg. “We always saw him around and didn’t know what to call him,” said Robert Ruelas, a first-floor resident of Schwalm.  “He’s the only cat with bling on his collar, so we call him Dawg. He’s a legend; he looks legendary. I bet you could get $40,000 for one of his whiskers on eBay.” Omar has also spent time in the basement of Schwalm during the winter, played basketball with students in the PERC and learned how to time his entry through the electronic doors of the library.

             
Even after all of this, Omar will not be receiving any credit hours for his efforts. “I think he should have an honorary degree,” Ruelas insisted.

Omar himself seems unruffled by the lack of recognition given to his efforts. A chirpy “Purrrrp!” is his preferred response, though he spends time lamenting to those who will listen about his lack of opposable thumbs.

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