The World According to Chumley
“Don’t you know how to be dumb?”
--Elvis Costello from Mighty Like a Rose, 1989.
I love Chumley, please make no mistake.
He is, alas, a fairly unintelligent cat. He is also quite a male.
Chum’s greatest asset is his heart. He puts his stubborn, “male”, and ignorant personality in all he does. It is difficult to be angered with him.
While I sit in the high back chair, the quizzical Chumley will climb into my lap and begin to purr. Not that I mind his comfort and warmth, but Chumley is a bit too warm. As the weight of the animal grows (and my discomfort level with it), I begin to shift. Chumley will then begin his low, guttural growl. He is not angry so much as he is stubborn. He will not bite, but he lets his displeasure be known.
He is very sensitive to having his tail touched, except at the base where he consistently purrs as his hind and tail base is scratched.
He is an oaf of sorts as he bounds down the steps, knocking over any cat in his way—“Duh…OK Tennessee.” As he runs into and pushes aside the others, they seem to look up with rolling eyes—they understand that this is Chumley’s way.
More than a few times I have caught him and Guinness napping together. Then Guinness also tires of Chumley’s weight and heat and moves along. Not understanding that he is not wanted (Chumley cannot take a hint); he follows Guinness until a fight ensues—well less of a fight and more of a desperate yelp from Guinness which frightens Chumley.
Chumley is also a bit fearful of Princess Foggy, as the lummox of 24 pounds cowers at Foggy’s frail 6 and a half pounds of hiss and growl. He loves to smell Foggy’s tail and she is not a fan. He learns (eventually) to keep his distance.
Chumley’s world is one of sleep, playing with any object on the floor, running into things, eating, and using the litter--often on that last one.
He is a greeter cat and welcomes all.
He whacks at people’s legs and likes to chase them.
His paperwork from the Humane Society implies he has been leash-trained. I cannot believe it, because no offense to my good friend Chumley, but that requires more aptitude than he has exhibited.
Chumley is a bit like the awkward, “big” kid we all knew at some point in our grade-school years. We all liked him, but we never really understood him. Like the Larry Mondello’s of old, Chumley always seems to be eating something. Unless the sport required brute strength like football, Chumley’s human counterpart would be the last chosen at any given activity that involved exercise. Like that “husky” kid, Chumley would always seek out friends; and in class, he would often make ill-advised answers without knowing how…well…trying to be sensitive and all…but…”STUPID” his answers sounded.
Still Chumley is one of the crew and his often misguided failures makes him more endearing and more special. His once matted, then shaved hair is growing back and he looks like when that “Husky” kid from grade school chopped off his hair with some scissors because…well…we really do not know why that goofy kid did it, but rest assured every awkward, big, goofy kid did something strange to his hair.
Also like that goofy, “husky” kid, Chumley has the grace of a hippo in heat. I swear, that cat bumps into more things than any cat I have seen. Good thing he is too fat to jump on stuff, otherwise I would go broke.
And like that awkward kid, Chumley just needs some love and someone to care for him.
Welcome aboard, old Chum (Batman TV show reference—as if you did not know).
--Elvis Costello from Mighty Like a Rose, 1989.
I love Chumley, please make no mistake.
He is, alas, a fairly unintelligent cat. He is also quite a male.
Chum’s greatest asset is his heart. He puts his stubborn, “male”, and ignorant personality in all he does. It is difficult to be angered with him.
While I sit in the high back chair, the quizzical Chumley will climb into my lap and begin to purr. Not that I mind his comfort and warmth, but Chumley is a bit too warm. As the weight of the animal grows (and my discomfort level with it), I begin to shift. Chumley will then begin his low, guttural growl. He is not angry so much as he is stubborn. He will not bite, but he lets his displeasure be known.
He is very sensitive to having his tail touched, except at the base where he consistently purrs as his hind and tail base is scratched.
He is an oaf of sorts as he bounds down the steps, knocking over any cat in his way—“Duh…OK Tennessee.” As he runs into and pushes aside the others, they seem to look up with rolling eyes—they understand that this is Chumley’s way.
More than a few times I have caught him and Guinness napping together. Then Guinness also tires of Chumley’s weight and heat and moves along. Not understanding that he is not wanted (Chumley cannot take a hint); he follows Guinness until a fight ensues—well less of a fight and more of a desperate yelp from Guinness which frightens Chumley.
Chumley is also a bit fearful of Princess Foggy, as the lummox of 24 pounds cowers at Foggy’s frail 6 and a half pounds of hiss and growl. He loves to smell Foggy’s tail and she is not a fan. He learns (eventually) to keep his distance.
Chumley’s world is one of sleep, playing with any object on the floor, running into things, eating, and using the litter--often on that last one.
He is a greeter cat and welcomes all.
He whacks at people’s legs and likes to chase them.
His paperwork from the Humane Society implies he has been leash-trained. I cannot believe it, because no offense to my good friend Chumley, but that requires more aptitude than he has exhibited.
Chumley is a bit like the awkward, “big” kid we all knew at some point in our grade-school years. We all liked him, but we never really understood him. Like the Larry Mondello’s of old, Chumley always seems to be eating something. Unless the sport required brute strength like football, Chumley’s human counterpart would be the last chosen at any given activity that involved exercise. Like that “husky” kid, Chumley would always seek out friends; and in class, he would often make ill-advised answers without knowing how…well…trying to be sensitive and all…but…”STUPID” his answers sounded.
Still Chumley is one of the crew and his often misguided failures makes him more endearing and more special. His once matted, then shaved hair is growing back and he looks like when that “Husky” kid from grade school chopped off his hair with some scissors because…well…we really do not know why that goofy kid did it, but rest assured every awkward, big, goofy kid did something strange to his hair.
Also like that goofy, “husky” kid, Chumley has the grace of a hippo in heat. I swear, that cat bumps into more things than any cat I have seen. Good thing he is too fat to jump on stuff, otherwise I would go broke.
And like that awkward kid, Chumley just needs some love and someone to care for him.
Welcome aboard, old Chum (Batman TV show reference—as if you did not know).
posted by Eric Sweetwood at 10:35 PM
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