Chuck and the Super Squirrel at Montpelier

          When we drove down to Virginia last November, we made the decision to visit the houses of four of our presidents. Where we made our biggest mistake was our decision to take Chuck with us. 

       Yes, yes. He promised, as he always does, to be good. Well-behaved. He understood that often he needs to be quiet. When you're doing an inside tour of a president's house, cat's are not allowed. Never.

        I thought I could impress upon Chuck how important Montpelier was from an historical perspective. After all, he is a smart cat. He loves the National Geographic channel. 

        As we stood on the expansive front lawn and gazed at the house, I explained that Montpelier is part of a Virginia plantation of over 2500 acres. James and Dolley Madison lived there. James Madison was our fourth president. "He wrote the Federalist Papers, Chuck, which helped ratify the Constitution. He is known as the Father of the Constitution. And . . . he is called the architect of the Bill of Rights."

        I looked down at my handsome orange and white cat, who was sitting quite comfortably in our backpack, and caught the end of a yawn.

        "Did you see that?" I asked Dan. "Did he just yawn?"

         Dan shrugged. "Maybe a little bit too much history."

         "Well, I was only trying to impress upon him--"

         No one was listening, not Dan, and certainly not Chuck. We walked across the beautiful lawn and into the house. The rooms were impressive. 

         Then we went outside again. 

         Chuck was itching to get out of the backpack.

          "You may as well let him down," Dan said. "He needs to walk around a bit."

           We were the only ones around. What harm could he cause?

           I was wrong.

           The minute Chuck's paws hit the lawn, he spotted the lean mass of brown fur who just moments before had leapt down from an expansive tree and was now wandering across the lawn, minding his own business. But that didn't matter. In the world according to Chuck, all squirrels are fair game. He took off after Super Squirrel who had no choice but to run as fast as he could, for his life.

            For awhile, I thought Chuck was going to get that poor innocent squirrel. But he never really had a chance.

             Super Squirrel raced to the tree, scampered up with Chuck in hot pursuit. The only difference was that Super Squirrel knew how to climb a tree. Chuck leapt up on the trunk, took another few steps and then stopped. Paralyzed. 

              Cats are not good tree climbers. 

               Super squirrel turned around and let out a torrent of squirrel curses that put my poor Chucky to shame.

               Dan went over and pulled our poor feckless hero down. 

               "It's okay, buddy. It could have happened to anybody."

               The 2500 acre plantation included 1800 wooded acres with eight miles of nature trails and fifty different specimens of trees. But Chuck wasn't in any mood for hiking along the trails or checking out anymore trees or wildlife. My little wild cat had had enough for one day.

                "How about some ice cream, Chucky?" I asked. 

                After all, our fourth First Lady, Dolley Madison herself, popularized ice cream as a dessert in the White House. Without access to a freezer, she had to rely on large blocks of ice cut from frozen water, packed on straw and stored in a cool place. Her favorite flavor was oyster ice cream. 

                Again, Chucky yawned. Too much history.

                By the way, Chucky's favorite flavor is vanilla. 

STAY TUNED TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF CHUCK'S  ADVENTURES. AND PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT. JUST CLICK ON "NO COMMENTS." IT'S EASY. CHUCK WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. 

            

         

Chuck and the Seagull

           When you're a Jersey girl, it is part of your DNA that demands you spend a certain amount of time each year at the Jersey shore. No if, ands, or buts. The sandy beach call you to its shores. You long to see the seagulls,  even if they will swoop down and try to steal your lunch. There is nothing more refreshing than the sea breeze blowing through your soul. 

       We are all romantics in our own way.

       I have to admit it was my idea that Saturday to take the almost two hour ride to Island Beach State Park. Although not as popular as Seaside Heights with its boardwalk and social scene, IBSP boasts ten miles of sandy beach, rolling sand dunes and tidal marshes near Barnegat Bay. It was October and cloudy. 

       But I believe in magic--that once we arrived, the sun would come out. It would be warmer, and despite dire predictions of icky weather, we would have a lovely day. 

       Chuck, the rascal cat, of course, agreed. He is always up for an adventure. And if food is involved--he heard us talking about lunch and watched as we packed our turkey sandwiches (he loves turkey)--he can't resist coming along for the ride.

        As always, I extracted a promise. "You will be good, right?"

        "Mom, of course. What mischief can I possibly get up to at the beach?" (I don't have enough fingers to count the ways.)

         Nevertheless, we packed and were ready to go in no time: cut offs, jackets, sneakers, blankets, food and Sirius XM radio to keep us entertained as we drove to the Jersey shore.

           Full disclosure. There were things we did not anticipate:

            The weather did not improve. It was windy. Very windy. Cold. But that did not deter us. We arrived at Island Beach State Park--no one else was in sight. We drove in and kept on going down the long, straight road that leads to the ocean. Parked the car. Got our gear. Maneuvered Chuck into a backpack so we could move more quickly toward the beach. (At least it wasn't raining.)

        

     The sandy path to the beach was very long. We were carrying a lot of gear. A lot of food. And blankets. And Chuck. About half way there we almost gave up. Where is the beach?? The water? It's hard to walk in the sand, carrying things, in sneakers. 

            The day was very windy. Imagine the kind of scene you see on TV when you're watching a hurricane make landfall. Through teary eyes--windy--we put our bright red blanket down, and it blew away. Everything we put down blew away. Chuck almost blew away. He started complaining. Meowing. 

             "He's just hungry." I put some food down, but you guessed it, it blew away. It took us awhile to get settled. To anchor the blanket with our bags and sit down. Geez. It wasn't supposed to be this hard.

             Chuck disappeared. I shouldn't have been surprised. Something always happens with Chuck. You take your eyes off of him for one moment and . . . 

              "There he is," Dan said. 

              Chuck was chasing a seagull who was racing toward the ocean. With Chuck's food. Who would have believed that at the very moment when Chuck had stopped meowing and was eating, that a seagull would swoop down and grab the turkey piece, practically right out of our fearless hero's mouth . . . 

                At first Chuck was stunned. But, boy, that kid can run. When he's motivated. And he wasn't bothered by wet sand or the ever increasing blowing wind. He was running for justice. To retrieve what was rightfully his.

              Dan leaped up. "I'll get him."

          Luckily, Chuck did not blindly follow the seagull into the water. He stopped on the edge where the waves were washing up on the sand and stood there, no doubt cursing his bad luck. Dan scooped him up and brought him back.

              "I'm warning you," I said, wanting to shake the living daylights out of him.

              "You saw what happened," he meowed back defiantly.

              "Sometimes you have to let things go, Chucky."

               But he was already on the blanket, grooming himself, self-soothing is what the vet calls it. 

              The ocean was beautiful. We are not complete blockheads. Finally, after the Chuck and seagull episode, we managed to hold our sandwiches and gaze out at the ocean. We hadn't seen the Jersey shore in awhile. Watching the waves roll in and out--priceless. 

              Later, we packed up, took a long walk away from the water, where it was less windy. And actually had a good time. On the way home, in Chuck's version of events, he managed to wrestle his turkey back from the seagull. Always the hero, my rascal Chuck!

STAY TUNED FOR MORE ADVENTURES WITH CHUCK.  PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT. CHUCK WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. JUST CLICK ON "NO COMMENTS." IT'S EASY.

    

            

Missing in Action - Me and Chuck!

     I write a travel blog, and it has been too long since I wrote my last one! Okay, so I'm embarrassed! And the worldwide pandemic, that basically shuddered us into isolation and prevented us from doing any kind of traveling for TWO years, is no excuse. Well, maybe, it can afford me some kind of little excuse. 

     In horror, I saw that the date of my last post was 2018!!! So, what was I doing for the other two years? I hang my head in shame and beg forgiveness. I admit freely that I was absent for so long from this blogspot that I had trouble logging in. I had to literally break into my own blogspot! Well, not technically, but I would have if I hadn't stumbled across another poor author in the exact same situation--she had neglected her blogspot for 10 years (that made me feel a lot better), but had the wisdom to realize that the stumbling block that existed wasn't really an obstacle. It only took me two hours, not two days, to once again be an official blogger!!! 

      So, what did I do over the last four years? Here are some tidbits of the less juicy things . . . Now, wait a minute. Just come back and read my blog and I'll tell you all about it!