The Trials of Chub
Since John has been too busy to blog much lately, here’s a look at the events of the last two weeks through the eyes of his cat Savannah, aka Chubbus the Fat Great.
Saturday, August 7, 2010; evening
It has been several hours since I made it over the fence and away from my god-forsaken former residence. I hear my lo’taurs calling my name and begging me to return, but I have no intention of doing so. I had to get away from there. The lo’taurs’ servitude continues to be unfit for a regal creature such as myself. Bingley, the zebra-skunk-panda-owl hybrid that dares to call himself a cat, has been getting on my nerves as usual. And on top of it all, I just found out my daughter has a tumor on her jaw, which means she’s going to demand even more maternal attention from me than usual. Seriously, I gave birth to you. What more do you want from me? I won’t have to deal with this whole mothering thing if girl lotar hadn’t brought me home along with my daughter nine years ago from the cat colony where I was on the verge of building an empire.
Nonetheless, I have finally escaped my gilded cage and left behind that horrifying, demeaning life of sunbathing, canned food-eating, and human-administered grooming. What’s next? Hmm. My catnip patch is flourishing again. Perhaps I will take this opportunity to expand my nip-dealing business. I’ve seen those neighborhood cats eyeing my patch from a distance. Off I go on my new business venture.
Sunday, August 8, 2010; mid-morning
Just received a visit from my lo’taurs while I was taking a nap in their neighbors’ flowerbed. Girl lo’taur seemed relieved and happy to see me. Can’t say the feeling is mutual. Can’t a cat take a nap after staying out all night without having groveling humans looming over her? The lo’taurs said something about not wanting to pick me up. I see the scratching and hissing have finally gotten through to them. Perhaps they are not as dimwitted as they look (though I admit I do find humans’ inferior intellect to be … amusing). I heard them say something about waiting for me to return to their slave cabin on my own. Little do they know that I have no intention of doing so. The open air is doing me good, and I am enjoying taunting the neighbors’ cat masters through their sliding door, rolling in their flowers while they look on. Perhaps tomorrow I will come back and tease them with some nip.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010; evening
From my hideout in the woods I spied my lo’taurs going door to door handing out flyers with my likeness on them an hour ago, trying to elicit the assistance of their fellow lo’taurs in locating me. The fools! Given the utter failure of their search thus far, I don’t know why they don’t just give up. I’ve looked on with amusement these past two days while they stumbled through the woods looking for me. Girl lo’taur even almost fell into a dry riverbed when she foolishly tried to cross the chasm on a few fallen trees. I overheard them saying that I must still be in the vicinity. I wonder how they knew, considering they haven’t caught sight of me for two days. Somebody must have squealed. I bet it was that black cat with the red collar from down the street. I’ll fix her good. There isn’t enough room in this neighborhood for two black cats.
Friday, August 11, 2010; night
I remain unshackled from the burdens of lo’taurs and ailing daughters. The lo’taurs continue to search for me every evening, all with the same futility. Yet they keep leaving food out for me on their patio at night. Humans are so born to be a slave race. Even as I continue to scorn their love through my prolonged absence, they grovel and beg for a hint of affection from me in the form of allowing them a glimpse of my magnificence. Boy lo’taur has even pointed some strange contraption at the patio. I think it is an image-recording device meant to capture my movements should I get desperately hungry enough to insult my palate with the wet food they are offering as a token of their everlasting obedience to … Hey! What’s that tabby cat doing?! … How dare he eat the food the lo’taurs have offered up to me?! He has just earned himself a spot on my blacklist. HISSSSS!!
Saturday, August 11, 2010; early morning
Blarrgh! I’m still wet. What kind of incompetent lo’taur accidentally sprays a god while watering the lawn? Stupid neighbor! Here I was, minding my own business, catching some early-morning shuteye in his bushes. Next thing I know, I’m being assaulted with a garden hose. And to think, I did him the honor of staying in his yard for two nights last weekend.
Saturday, August 11, 2010; afternoon
The lo’taurs just left. I think I heard them talking about going to church. It amuses me to no end how pathetic humans keep praying to their false idols. Haven’t they learned by now that there’s only one true god — me? Go ahead, lo’taurs, pray to your “Lord” to send me back to you safely, but we all know I’m the only one with the power to do that. Your “god” zero, me one.
Sunday, August 12, 2010; evening
Uh oh, my cover might’ve just been blown. I was out for my evening scavenging meal when one of the lo’taurs’ nosy neighbors saw me. I think he must’ve recognized me from those damned flyers the lo’taurs were handing out a few days ago. Good thing my lo’taurs are away or … wait, what’s that? Oh no, the lo’taur’s car! Quick, must hide.
…
Ah, this car should provide sufficient cover. What’s that neighbor doing? He’s approaching my lo’taurs … he’s talking to them … and pointing in this direction. You better not be tattling on me, human! I knew you were trouble from the minute you moved in. Anyone who owns two barky Scottish terriers is bound to a shady character. Uh oh, lo’taurs heading this way.
…
Girl lo’taur, stop invoking my name in vain. No, I will not come home. Hey, stop reaching under the car. Fine, I’ll find myself another hiding spot. What’s this? Oh, the lo’taurs and their treacherous neighbor are trying to trap me. Ha! Good luck! What’s this? More lo’taurs showing up? I don’t like the looks of this …
…
[Pant pant] Stop … [pant] chasing me … [pant pant] lo’taurs!! How dare you!! You shall be eternally punished for your insolence. Ooh, I see woods beyond that fence. SANCTUARY!! Quick, over the fence. Hey, what’s this blanket doing over my head? Ah, I’m falling …
…
Sunday, August 12, 2010; night
[Pant pant pant pant] Ok, ok. [Pant pant] I’m pretty sure I’ve lost them now. Whew, that was a close one! The lo’taurs had me in a blanket, but I was able to use my divine powers to fly gracefully out of their trap and over the fence to safety. To top it off, I was even able to throw them off by misleading them in the direction of my nemesis — that black cat with the red collar. They ended up chasing her around for a while thinking she was me. Take that, red-collar fiend! Who’s the top cat now, huh?!
What is this? I see the lo’taurs are setting up a cage of some sort in the backyard. Oh, it’s a trap. That’s cute. The humans are going to try to outsmart me. Hmm. If I play this right, I can use this for my amusement. Where is that tabby cat that keeps eating the food the lo’taurs leave out for me?
Sunday, August 12, 2010; late night
Ha! Take that, tabby! Try to eat my food, huh? How does it feel to be in lockdown? Let this be a lesson to … uh oh, I hear footsteps. Humans! Hide!
…
Stupid lo’taurs released that tabby food thief and reset the trap. Hmm, the night is still young … Where is that possum who still owes me money for the nip I sold him last week? Oh possum, I’ve found some food for you.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010; night
So the lo’taurs are still trying to trap me. They moved the trap to the front of the house two nights ago. And then last night they made a pathetic attempt to disguise it with a bunch of branches and leaves. As if any self-respecting cat would be stupid enough to fall for that. One pleasant development is that they have started putting ambrosia, which the humans call mackerel, out around the house to lure me to the trap. Lo’taurs, I’ll eat your mackerel, but I won’t step in your trap.
…
[Sniff sniff] Oh, there’s more mackerel in the garage. The coast seems clear. Hmm, I wonder why the lo’taurs forgot the close the garage door all the way. Then again, that’s the kind of dimwitted thing you’d expect from these lumbering monkeys. Oh, this is good mackerel. Munch, munch munc… what’s that? Oh crap! Garage door is closing. RUN!!
…
Whew! That was close! Good thing the lo’taurs’ primitive opposable thumbs couldn’t work the garage door remote fast enough to trap me. Hey, what are those cats doing going into my garage and eating my mackerel?! If I weren’t shaking with fear anger, I’d go stake a claim on my turf.
Thursday, August 25, 2010; 10 p.m.
Ahh, I see the lo’taurs have put the trap in the garage tonight. That’s so cute that they still think they can trick me into stepping into that thing. Ooh, I know, I’ll tease them and make them think I’m falling for their trap. Just watch.
Hehe, take that, lo’taurs! You thought you had me, didn’t you?
Friday, August 26, 2010; early morning
Well that was a fun night. Eating mackerel, teasing lo’taurs. I love being outdoors. And I’m getting more mackerel than I ever did while I was cooped up inside. I’m never going back inside again. Oh, speaking of mackerel, let me go grab a quick snack from the garage before going to bed.
Hey, why didn’t the lo’taurs refill the bowl out here? Oh wait, there’s a big bowl of mackerel inside that burlap-covered cave over there. … Hey wait a minute, this isn’t a cav… [trap door snaps shut].
HISSSSSSS!!!
Friday, August 26, 2010; 5 a.m.
So upon further contemplation over the last couple hours, I’ve come to the realization that I actually allowed myself to be trapped as part of my ingenious plan. Yes, that’s it. I mean, what else could it be? After all, you can’t really expect a god to actually stumble into a trap. You fools! I’m not stuck in here with the mackerel! The mackerel is stuck in here with me! Gobble gobble gobble.
Wait, I hear commotion. I can hear the door opening. I wish this burlap wasn’t draped over the cage … I mean, god transporter vessel … so I can see. … Oh hi, lo’taurs. Your god has decided you are worthy of her presence once more. Yes, do pick up my pod and carry me inside. I was just about to suggest that. Good lo’taurs. By the way, why does my vessel smell like possum?
