My feline staff is headed by Mr. Clark, who cleary operates on the
principle of the good staff NCO: while I may command the unit, he runs
the unit. That policy being established, it can be observed he has
Buddha-nature (and some of the physique), or at least is an
orange-robed Buddhist abbot. Unless there is insubordination, however,
he believes in love, not war.  

His staff consists of Ding, a very gentle soul, and Rhonda, who is more
like the ambitious blonde MBA in Marketing (yes, she is blonde, among
other things) wave to Soldiergrrrl. They both adore Mr. Clark, who was
the sort of former tomcat that merely looked martyred when he allowed
them, as new kittens, to attempt to nurse on him.

Earlier in the week, Ding and Rhonda were batting at something, and I
moved a box to find a young chipmunk. Deciding that the chipmunk would
rather be in the snow than eaten by a cat, I put it outside.

A day or two later, the chipmunk was back, no longer crouching in
apparent fear. At first, he was chased by Rhonda and Ding, Mr. Clark
loftily ignoring the situation. A little while later, the chipmunk was
standing on a bookshelf, exchanging nose sniffs with Ding. Commotion a
bit later revealed the chipmunk chasing the cats. Eventually, the
chipmunk ran onto my arm, and I again took him outside.

The cats clearly don't regard the chipmunk as prey. If he returns, I
may have to consider whether this is meant to be.