Ha. There’s an obvious solution: Strap a piece of buttered toast to the Cat Kaiser’s back and drop him. A cat must land on its feet, but toast must land butter-side down, causing the Kaiser to spin around in midair extremely rapidly, putting him out of commission, and causing Cat royalty to gradually fray into decades of bloody infighting, and by the time one rises to the top, the War of Feline Succession will have drained the Catspurrgs too far for anything beyond meager influence among their more plebeian peers.