Rascal Chuck in the Mummy Room

     Chuck has to be here.

     The Mummy Room, downstairs in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, is filled with--you guessed it--mummies. They have the foremost collection of mummies in the world. 

    As we walk in, I quickly scan the room for the Rascal Cat.

    Nothing but mummies.

    "Chuck."

    I wait to hear a purr. A meow. Anything.

    But the Mummy Room is eerily quiet. As you would expect. Dan and I are the only two living persons in the room. Mummies are everywhere. To appreciate this room in all its splendor, the tourist must go up and down the rows and look from side to side. The mummies are behind glass cases. Some have inscriptions describing who or what they are. 

    "Let's break up," I say to Dan. "You go that way." I point across the room. "I'll start over here." 

     We are convinced Chuck has to be here. He has mummies on the brain. Given the choice, he would come here. But he could be anywhere. 

      I don't mind looking for him. There's something about mummies that intrigues me. I don't find them eerie or gross, and maybe it's my own enthusiasm for mummies that's caused Chucky to go so beserk over them. 

      I pass a mummy crocodile and a pet dog with an inscription.

      

      

    

     

  

     I pass some skeletal birds and then some mummified birds. 

     

      At each juncture, I call out, "Chucky." But there is no response. 

      I have to admit I jump at little when I see the cat mummy. 

    "Dan," I call out.  "Look."

    "Don't get carried away," he says in that reasonable voice of his. "Of course there would be mummies of cats. The Egyptians loved cats."

     He's right. 

     "You don't think Chucky saw this mummy cat and freaked out, do you?"

      "No, if anything . . ." Dan pauses.

      "What?"

      "No, he wouldn't have a crazy idea . . ."

      It's the way he says it. "Our Chucky?"

       "All I'm saying is remember in the Philadelphia Museum when he wanted his portrait painted. The kid wants to be immortalized."

       No sooner are the words out of Dan's mouth than we hear a meow coming from the row behind us. 

        There he is--perfectly still--like a statue--posed against a white board as if he's auditioning for the role of  . . .

    "Don't say it." 

     I scoop Chuck up and give him the biggest hug possible. He's here. He's safe. That's all I care about. But then I get over myself. "We've seen enough mummies for one day. And there's no way, Chucky, that you can be a . . . " But I can't even say the word.

     Chucky shrugs. He could see a thousand mummies, and it wouldn't be enough.

    As we're leaving, Chucky wants to say goodbye to his favorite mummy. Small consolation, I suppose. 

   Gosh, Chucky, you really are a rascal cat, or should I say the wanna be mummy cat.    

       

    

      

Rascal Cat Disappears in Egyptian Museum

       We sometimes have to stretch the truth to get Chucky to do what we want to do. Case in point: when we're visiting Cairo and decide, with the help of our Egyptologist, to spend the afternoon in the exquisite Egyptian Museum. 

      It is a big place with lots and lots to see. It is super crowded. We know, from experience, that Chucky will have eyes for one thing and one thing only--the mummies. He's made it quite clear when we first board the plane that he wants to see the infamous Mummy Room in the Egyptian Museum (History Channel again.) 

        So, yes, yes, we're on our way to see the Mummy Room which is downstairs, we assure our over anxious cat. It takes time to get there.

        After all, the Egyptian Museum is a big place.  Located in Cairo, built in 1901, it houses the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities in the world--over 120,000 items, with most of them on display. It is the largest museum on the African continent. It houses, among its masterpieces, the Pharaoh Tutankhamen's treasure, including his gold burial mask, considered one of the world's best known works of art. How cool is that? But Chucky doesn't care about a burial mask.

      

    We pass tourists galore. Statues of famous Egyptian pharaohs.  And every time we stop, we hear Chuck's meow, "Are we there yet?"

    "Almost. This is a big place."

   

We pass beautiful paintings of birds. And again Chuck asks, "Are we there yet?" 

"Almost."

    

Our Egyptologist gives us some background on the museum. Chuck is practically doing back flips in Dan's backpack, he's so anxious to see the mummies.  "Meow. Meow."

"Let him out," I suggest. 

There are so many people milling about, I doubt anyone will notice him anyway.  And, besides, who is going to care about a cat, when there are so many other fabulous things to look at?

     Dan has a large map that he consults on a regular basis so we can stay focused. 

    "If we go down that hallway there, there should be a set of stairs that will take us to the Mummy Room." 

     We turn to look at Chuck, to make sure he's heard that this is it, we are really this time on our way to the MUMMY ROOM.  We expect to see his smiling face, or whatever a cat's version of a smiling face is, but the spot between us where he was perched just moments before is empty.

      Chuck is gone.  He has disappeared! Oh my God. Was he abducted? Right under our noses? Anything is possible in Egypt.

        

      

     "Or . . ." 

     

     "That darn cat--"

      "Which way--" I am flabbergasted.

      "To the Mummy Room . . . " Dan points the way.

    

       Is he right? Or are we on a wild goose chase? Wasting precious moments while Chuck is being whisked away by some foreign adversary? I am almost paralyzed with indecision.

        Dan grabs my arm. "C'mon. You know him. He's always running off and doing his own thing." 

       We race down the hallway. There is no doubt in Dan's mind that the Rascal Cat has made a bee line for the Mummy Room.  I'm less sure . . .

       I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper a quick prayer as we open the thick door and gallop down the stairs. "Make him be there." Suddenly, I regret taking our time waltzing through the museum. We should have gone straight to the Mummy Room. 

        We spot the sign: Mummy Room. We turn the corner . . .

         Will Chuck be there? Stay tuned next week to find out:

          Rascal Chuck in the Mummy Room

        

        

        

        

Rascal Chuck Goes to School in Egypt

        It's not what you think! 

     We journeyed to Egypt for two reasons. We wanted to see all the cool Egypt stuff--the pyramids, the mummies (stay tuned next week) and to ride a camel, but we also wanted to see where Dan went to school. No, he's not Egyptian, but he spent a good part of his childhood there, living in Heliopolis, on the outskirts of Cairo and going to an American School, a boarding school called Schutz, in Alexandria. 

    So, one afternoon, we hire a cab and drive to the school, with Chuck, of course, to pay a nostalgic visit. Our cab driver is wonderful. He gives us a lesson in Arabic as he drives like a madman through the crowded Alexandrian streets. He drops us off in front of the school (where we hand over our passports while visiting) and waits while we're escorted around the campus for hours. 

    We decide not to disclose that Chuck is with us. Even though cats are well-loved in Egypt, they are not welcome in school. 

    "Chuck, mum is the word. No meowing. A nice lady is going to show us around. After that, we'll let you out to sniff."

    Chuck is not a happy camper. But Chuck is also naturally curious and wants to sniff so he agrees to keep mum while we revisit Dan's school years. Schutz is no longer a boarding school, and it has changed and not changed. 

      Schutz is located smack in the middle of Alexandria.

    

    We pass the basketball court (updated and upscaled),  the swimming pool (which wasn't even there), and the tree, which Dan remembers climbing again and again. Yeah, he was a kid, after all.

     We reach the building, which served as the dorms years ago, go inside and are able to walk the hallways.

Dan poses near the staircase he used to slide down as a boy! There's a photo of him sliding down in the yearbook.

    We find the cafeteria, which has been revamped and the library, which looks the same as Dan remembers it.  

     Our tour guide takes us to her office and somehow manages to find old yearbooks. 

    All the while, Chuck has not made a peep. Not a meow. 

    "Is he okay in there?" I ask.

    We're finally alone. The tour is about to end. We have one more place to visit--the auditorium. When we get there, we let Chuck out so he can sniff around and stretch his legs. Dan spots a piano and goes over and starts playing. 

    Suddenly the door to the auditorium opens and our nice lady tour guide appears. "Hey," she says, "I didn't know you played the piano."

    My first thought is Chuck. Where is he? Can she see him? How is she going to react to a cat in school?

    Before Dan can say a word about piano playing, her laser beam focus lands on Chuck, who in that exact moment pops out of the shadows. 

    "Wrong time to be friendly," I want to shout aloud, but in a split second I decide I'll just pretend I don't know this orange and white fur ball. This is just a strange cat showing up out of nowhere scenario. Happens all the time.

    "Oh, my God," she shouts. "There's a cat."

    Dan is just about to say the worst possible thing. I know he is because he's stopped playing the piano, turns around, and is staring at Chuck. He'll want to solve the problem. Explain the mystery away.

    "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," I interrupt. "It's just a cat."

    She looks at me as if my head just exploded, and then immediately transforms herself into a kind of generalissimo. "Cats aren't allowed at Schutz. No pets. No animals of any kind."

    Dan is looking at me, trying to figure out why I'm not telling her that we know this cat. This is our cat. Our Chucky. But I have a better idea.

    I smile broadly. "We're just leaving now. We'll take the cat with us. We'll handle it."

    She looks at us very suspiciously. And begins walking towards Chuck. 

    I realize in that moment that she's on to us.

    "Run, Chucky, run."

    He does. Chucky doesn't do a lot of exercise in his regular life, but he can run when he has to. He makes a bee line for the auditorium door and shoots through it, disappearing into thin air.

    I run after him. Dan runs after me. 

    "Where do you think he went?" I ask.

    We look to the right. To the left.

    Dan spots his tail disappearing under the iron fence that skirts around the Schutz property. Keeping things in and out. In short order, we run down the path that leads out of the Schutz compound, retrieve our passports and scoop up Chuck, who is conveniently waiting. (Only slightly out of breath.) We find our driver, who is parked on a side street near the school. 

     The driver doesn't say a word about Chuck as we scramble into the back of the taxi. When we arrive back at the hotel, they do a sweep under our car for bombs. He doesn't say a word about that either. 

    "Did you have a good day?" I ask Dan.

    "The best."

    I turn to Chuck. "School isn't always this exciting, Chuck."

    But Chuck is purring. There's nothing like being chased and almost getting caught within an inch of your life. In Egypt. On school grounds. Where you're not supposed to be. 

    That Rascal Cat!

P.S. I'm offering 100 free Kindle copies of my recently published novel, The Blue Medallion, in a Goodreads Giveaway. The promotion will run from July 20 thru August 20. For a chance to enter and read more about this amazing offer, follow the link: 

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_kindle_giveaway/370913

    

    

     

    

Rascal Chuck and the Anthropoid Coffin

         Before we leave Alexandria, Chuck insists on going to the Alexandria National Museum. Now, the rascal cat is not usually a fan of being inside or of visiting any kind of museum, but this one in particular holds something of interest that Chucky heard about and was dying to see: An Anthropoid coffin with mummy. 

       "What is that?" Dan wants to know.

        I have no idea, but the bigger question is how did Chucky know about it? Occasionally, Chucky watches the History Channel. Did he just happen to catch an episode where an Egyptologist talked about an anthropoid coffin? 

        So, here we are on our way to one of Egypt's finest museums. Inaugurated by President Hosni Mubarak in 2003. Located in a restored palace. Containing about 1,800 artifacts that tell the history of Alexandria, beginning with the Pharaohs (ie. the pyramids), then the Romans (Julius Caesar and Cleopatra), then the Coptics (the Christians) and finally the Muslims. 

        "Let's be smart about this," I say to Dan. "On our way to the coffin, we can check out a lot of other neat things and give Chucky a dose of culture!"

        So, we admire early Egyptians paintings:

         We examine mummies that are on display. Ancient Egyptians believed in body mummification after death to preserve it for the afterlife. They placed a mask on the mummy's head to help the soul recognize it according to their belief. The mummy was then placed inside a coffin.

    

     We peruse an interesting collection of statuary:

         We also learn the Holy Family found refuge in Egypt. Mary and Joseph considered it a safe place for Christ, which helped the establishment of the Christian religion in Egypt. 

         Of course, all of that is very interesting to us. Chuck, however, is on a mission. The anthropoid coffin is located downstairs in a specialized area. No photographs allowed. And, frankly, no cats allowed either. 

        "What should we do?"

        "Let's face it. Chucky is never allowed anywhere. Let's just do it."

        Dan is right. We are here now. We push the doors open and step inside. We walk down the stairs. No one else is there. Perfect.  

        "Stay focused," I whisper to Dan as Chucky begins to meander around.

         "There. There it is--the coffin."

    

         We have never seen anything like it before. A dog is buried inside a coffin that looks like a dog. The coffin is designed to look exactly like the animal that is inside. 

          I have to admit--it looks creepy. 

          "Should we let Chucky see it?"

          Dan looks at me sideways. "Why not?"

          "He's been through a lot." I glance behind me. Chuck is sniffing away, oblivious to the fact that we have found the coffin. 

           "He'll be okay."

           "Let me take the photo first." 

            That's when it happens. Chucky, suspicious, that we're staring at the same spot for too long, races over, gets nosy and now, before I can say a word of warning, begins to sniff the coffin. 

            "For goodness sake, grab him," I yell, suddenly fearful that he might contract some dreaded ancient virus.

            Cats can't smile. It's physically impossible. When they want to show they're happy, they purr. Or they slowly close their eyes and kind of wink at you. 

            Chucky turns around and does just that. A very slow winky kind of eye close. Then he moonwalks back to us, not wanting to take his gaze off the anthropoid coffin. 

            Obviously, he's not freaked out at all. The problem is me. I'm the one who's freaked out. As usual, he's the cool cat.  Argh.

P.S. I'm offering 100 free Kindle copies of my recently published novel, The Blue Medallion, in a Goodreads Giveaway. The promotion will run from July 20 thru August 20. For a chance to enter and read more about this amazing offer, follow the link: 

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_kindle_giveaway/370913

            

           

           

          

            

        

         

    

Rascal Chuck and the Catacomb Cat

    We blame our Egyptologist. You know how it is. When you're visiting an ancient city, you're perfectly content to ride around and look at the sites, sample the pastries and icecream, and eat at the famous restaurants. But the history know-it-all who's traveling with us is full of plans, and he absolutely insists we see the catacombs when we're in Alexandria. 

    Dan is interested. And, Chuck, well, I'm not sure. We plan to go early in the morning so it shouldn't be crowded.  Which means that Chuck should be able to wander around on his own and sniff, which is what he loves to do.

    I have to be honest. Before coming to Alexandria, I only know of the Roman Catacombs, which I always wanted to visit. I know Christians buried their dead there, and I also used to believe they hid there when they were being persecuted by the Romans. Then I learned the truth. The common method of burial back then was cremation, which Christians didn't believe in. Because of the shortage of land, they buried their dead underground in the catacombs. BUT rather than hide there, they used to congregate in the catacombs for meals to commemorate the anniversary of a loved one's death. Interesting. That was in Rome.

    The Catacombs of Kom-es-Shouqafa are considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Middle Ages and date back to 2nd century AD. They were tunneled into bedrock for a single wealthy family and consist of tombs (of course) but also statues and many other archeological objects that the Egyptians used to decorate the space. Today the catacombs are considered an engineering feat of some magnitude. The motifs you can still see decorating the catacombs are pure Ancient Egyptian, when the people still believed in many gods and goddesses, which they pictured as human, sometimes with animal heads. (Today roughly 90% of Egyptians are Muslim; 10% Coptic Christians.)

        The catacombs were used as a burial chamber from the 2nd to the 4th century and rediscovered in 1900 when a donkey accidentally fell into an access shaft.

    When we arrive, there's a circular stone staircase you climb down to reach the catacombs. Dan goes first with Chuck. I follow. You pass statues. Even though this is a burial place, carved from rock, you can see it is meant to be a place of reverence for those who are placed here.   

     When we reach the bottom level, we set Chuck free. 

      "Stay close by. No wandering around." I look around. And shiver. "You can get lost in here, Chucky." 

      "I'll keep an eye on him," Dan offers.

      "We want to see you at all times," I repeat.

       For a moment you forget why you're here. But then you reach the deepest part of the catacombs, where the bodies were laid to rest. 

     This is the saddest part, imagining what it must have been like to have to go underground to visit your loved ones. We stay a bit longer. Dan is true to his word and keeps Chucky in his sights as he's sniffing away. 

    We are just about to turn around and leave when we both hear the most blood curdling meow you can imagine. 

    "What was that?"

     The question has just left my lips, when Chuck, who one minute before was lazing around near Dan, shoots by about 30 miles an hour, past us, headed for that staircase.

     "What the . . . "

      And then, before we can even process that event, a black and white cat flies past, chasing Chuck. 

      "Did you see that?"

       Quickly we realize Catacomb Guard Cat has decided Chuck is one too many cats in this catacomb and is making her presence known. (I deduce it has to be a her.)

        I don't say a word to Dan. We both telepathically know we must jump into action and rescue Chuck. 

        We run across the catacomb hallway, up the staircase and out into the amazingly fresh air. We spot Catacomb Cat immediately. Hissing and growling.  Facing a mound of dirt that's been piled up on one side of the parking lot. With Chuck sitting on top.

        

    "How did he manage to get to the top of that--" 

    Chuck has had the good sense to run clear across the parking lot and get as far away as possible from this spitfire, who is standing her ground.

    We're out of breath but relieved. For the moment, both cats are at a standstill. Chuck, true to his non-violent nature, is patiently waiting for Catacomb Cat to go away. 

    "What should we do?"

    I examine Catacomb Cat more closely. She is actually tinier than we originally thought. "Shoo her away," I suggest.

    "Shoo?" Dan asks.

    "Well, you don't want to hurt her. She is only doing her job."

        Dan takes a few steps towards the cat. She steps back, her back arches, and then she runs back into the catacomb.

    Phew! 

    I'm just about to call Dan my hero, when I see the tell tale sign of an orange and white tail behind him. "Chuck."

    As we were discussing the situation, it seems that Chucky came down from the mound of dirt and took action. 

    Why did the Catacomb Cat run? Was it Dan or Chuck? We'll never know.

P.S. I'm offering 100 free Kindle copies of my recently published novel, The Blue Medallion, in a Goodreads Giveaway. The promotion will run from July 20 thru August 20. For a chance to enter and read more about this amazing offer, follow the link: 

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_kindle_giveaway/370913