Rascal Chuck Climbs a Mountain

        I suspect the idea started when Chuck and Theo, his brother in crime, conferred that morning on the sofa.  I think Theo put the idea in Chuck's head that climbing a mountain was a good idea. Imagine the view, he probably meowed. The fresh scents you can sniff.

          "Do you want to come with us?" Chuck probably asked.

          "Me?" Theo probably let out a slight cough. "Not today, bro. Feeling a little under the weather. But you go ahead."

            So Dan, Chucky, and I find ourselves signed up for a two hour hike, following our trusted guide, destined to climb a mountain. But, first we have to get to the mountain, which means hiking through a forest. We are in northern New Jersey in Ringwood State Park, light jacket weather, the day after too much rain so it's a bit soggy but glorious.

            We follow a secret path through some fields and woods to reach the trail that will eventually lead upwards.  

          The path seems somewhat magical, especially when we pass some ancient statues, each one representing one of the major continents--Europe, America, Asia and Africa:

       We pass a lovely wooden bench, but there is no time to rest. 

           We now begin to enter the forest. Chuck is with Dan, snuggled securely in his backpack, but when we reach a stream, he meows to be let out. Looking for frogs and fish is one of the things Chuck likes to do best, so while I distract our guide, Chucky does his thing with Dan.

        Soon we're hiking into the inner part of the forest. The trail inclines nice and slow. There is a slight breeze. The sun is out. 

        

        We are almost there. The incline steepens. The trail narrows. At the highest point, we must climb a few steps onto a giant rock that is flat on top, but the sides extend down, down, and if you are afraid of heights, it is best not to look down. If you think you might slide down the sides, it is best not even to climb on top of this rock. 

        But, of course, we do. The view is magnificent. Chuck is out of the backpack, and he has scampered up the rocks. He wants to see the view.

      

        "Keep an eye on him." 

        I have no idea how well cats can navigate on slippery rocks. I have no idea how well I can navigate on slippery rocks. I already know how Dan is feeling. He is staying exactly in the middle of the large rock and not looking down.

        The view is of the Ramapo Mountains. 

        I make the biggest mistake while I am up there. I look DOWN

          

and realize at once that we are at tree top level and if we slide down and fall, we will be in BAD SHAPE. It is a long way down. 

        I make an executive decision. "We should grab Chuck."

        He is on the edge of the edge, sniffing. Of course he is. Half his body is off the rock, half is on. I don't think he even realizes where he is. Some plants are growing in between the crevices, and he is exploring. He has absolutely no interest in the view. 

        I very carefully move closer to where he is.  If he looks up and sees there's nothing in front of him, will he panic? 

        

        "Chucky, Chucky."

        He turns and looks at me.  And then without a second thought he moonwalks from the edge and returns to where I am standing, paralyzed with fear. They say that cats need to be rescued from trees because they can't backtrack once they run up. But I've just seen for myself that a cat can save himself, if he's a rascal!

        Later, safely back at home, I see Chuck with Theo. I hear a lot of meowing, and I imagine that Chuck is telling Theo what happened on top of the mountain--how mom freaked out once again. But I'm wrong. He seems to be telling Theo how he made it to the top of the mountain!

        Theo, lazing in the later afternoon sun, doesn't seem to care. He's all stretched out and mighty glad he decided to stay home. He's no rascal cat!

       

        

        

Rascal Chuck Meets The White Ghost

     "So what is a cactus plant, anyway," Chuck wanted to know. That was his first question. Then he wanted to see one. 

        Where do you have to go in this USA to see a cactus plant, and not just any cactus plant? A Euphorbia lactea. Better known as the White Ghost. In Arizona? 

      Dan, of course, has the answer: "Actually, there are six states that have cactus plants: Texas, California, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, and . . . "

       "Arizona. Well . . ." I look over at Chucky. "Maybe this coming summer we can go in search of the White Ghost, but for now . . ."

        We reach a compromise. The Conservatory in Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania, has a section filled with cacti. We confirm that they have the White Ghost--an  extremely rare cactus plant with a chunky trunk and an unusual pale ghost-like complexion to its skin.

        I am suspicious. I believe that the cactus plant is there, all right, but why name a plant the "white ghost"? I'm not a fan of cacti anyway. They're prickly, for one thing. Don't bang into one by mistake, or you'll be sorry.  And I'm concerned that Chucky in his enthusiasm to see the White Ghost will want to sniff it, get too close, and get his eye gouged out or get those prickly things lodged in his fur. Or maybe he'll try to climb it. And then he'll be stuck up there, literally STUCK.

       Dan has a completely different opinion. He finds them fascinating. Cacti can store enormous amounts of water. They collect CO2 at night, not during the day, like other plants. They have many medicinal purposes and have been linked to treating glaucoma, liver disease, ulcers, fatigue, and they contain antioxidant properties, minerals and vitamins. 

       I am reluctantly impressed, but still . . . 

        We hurry through the Conservatory, reach the cacti, and set Chuck down with a stern warning to BE CAREFUL! Look don't touch. But I know this kid. He barely listens when he's on a mission. He wants to see this White Ghost and there is nothing that is going to stop him.

            Luckily, there is no one else around. This is not a very popular exhibit. Everyone is looking at the fabulously beautiful orchids, which is where I wish I was. I'm determined not to like these cacti, but sure enough I stumble upon one that takes my breath away. Because this one is NOT prickly. What?

     I reach out and touch the leaves and they feel like velvet. This cacti is called Felt Brush. I try to steer Chucky over here. He gives them a glance, but it's no go.  I walk further on and now I'm in love with the Mexican Fence Post Cactus. Tall and lean. It looks exactly like its name.

       

      "Chucky, over here. Look at this." But Chucky is sniffing his way through the exhibit with only one thing on his mind.

      I then stumble upon something even more spectacular--Silver Ball Cactus. Frankly, I never knew cacti can be so interesting. Maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong. Maybe this White Ghost is not as threatening as I think. I take a few quick deep breaths. Smile.

        "Dan, where's Chuck? He's got to see . . ."

        I am too late. Chucky is across the exhibit. He has found the cactus plant he's been looking for, the cactus plant of his dreams. He's stopped a few feet away and is staring at it, most likely admiring it. I start walking towards him. So this is it--the White Ghost. The sun is shining through the glass roof, and the darned cactus plant is actually glowing, almost as if it's going to come alive and do something. It looks other worldly. But then . . .

        

        Someone turns off the lights. That's impossible because the light is the sunlight coming from outside. Still, the room darkens. I feel a chill course down my spine. This has got to be all in my head. I'm about to turn to Dan, the voice of reason, when I hear howling wind. What? An eerie background noise. A kind of groaning begins around me. I'm not going to get freaked out by this, I tell myself, as I run toward Chucky and scoop him up.

       Of course, he doesn't want to be scooped up--rescued--and starts to wiggle with all his might. He is a strong cat. 

       Now I hear  laughing. Dan?

                     "Sorry. Sorry. I couldn't resist."

                     "That was you?"

                      "Only the moaning. The rest is the storm outside." 

                      I've been so wrapped up in exploring the cacti, I don't notice the oncoming storm. Darned global warming. This crazy weather is getting ridiculous. "So this has nothing to do with the cactus plant. I'm an idiot." 

               I put Chucky down. He shakes off the humiliation and gives me that look that cats give you when they agree with you that you are an idiot.

              "Okay. Okay. Go look at your White Ghost." 

              All is well. Chuck scampers over to sniff the White Ghost. He's almost there when suddenly, out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning illuminates the space. We all look up. The raindrops that have been falling turn into big juice drops. Thunder crashes down.

             "That was dramatic," I whisper, staring at the White Ghost, which is still there, of course. BUT . . .

             Chucky is not. The bolt of lightning, the crash of thunder was too much. He is huddled, this rascal cat of mine, amidst the Felt Brush cacti. His long orange and white tail is the only part of him that is visible. 

            Ha. Ha. He must know what I've been suspicious of all along--this White Ghost cactus is not just your regular cactus. There's something funny going on in Cactus Land.

                

        

 

            

Chuck, Ramsesses the Great, and the gods

             Visitors to Egypt—even rascal cats—come to Egypt to see at least two major sights: the pyramids at Giza and the Temple of Luxor. 

We didn't even have to emphasize to Chucky that a trip to Luxor Temple will be like nothing he has ever seen before because he wanted to come.

“Remember the pyramids at Giza,” Dan asks. "On all that sand?"

 

Chucky nods.

“Imagine a complex, filled with gigantic statues.” 

“Luxor" Dan explains, “was the capital of ancient Egypt back in the day.”

“1300 BC,” I chime in. “That’s even before ancient Greece had its Golden Age." 

But Chuck isn’t here to see the temple. He has only one thing on his little cat mind: Ramesses II.

Ramesses II was the pharaoh who ruled for 66 years. A real mover and shaker. He built the entire temple complex.

Chucky knows all of this.

Actually, the people built the complex, but not for the Egyptian people. This place was built for the pharaoh and the priests, a place where they could come and meet with the gods in private. 

Which means they actually believed the gods were there, in the inner recesses of the temple.

Dan tells Chucky that this temple complex was dedicated to the gods. BUT everything—the statues and the drawings (called reliefs on the walls) celebrate the Pharoah Ramesses II.

But, again, Chucky knows everything about this pharaoh, and he can’t wait to see Ramsesses. 

I am in awe of my first view of the temple complex. Humans look like insects in comparison. At the entrance we spot the infamous obelisk on the right and know there is a companion obelisk to this one in Paris.

        As we continue to walk, we spot some of the columns of the temple that have survived.

    

This place is bigger than I expected. I turn to Dan. "I think Chuck needs to be in the backpack, or he'll be trampled because everyone is looking up."

Dan agrees. Chuck is not happy. He prefers to be on his own. He wants to scamper off and sniff. But the temple is very crowded. Finally, we compromise. He climbs into the backpack, but positions himself so he can look out and see the sights, on the lookout, of course, for the Pharaoh.  

We walk around toward the entrance. Now we can see the obelisk more clearly and also some of the statues that are positioned in front of the temple. 

        

 

Finally, we are smack in front of the entrance and facing Ramsesses II. 

        Well, the truth is I'm facing Ramsesses. Dan is kind of walking backwards, so Chuck can see what I'm seeing—his hero. 

         Dan is an expert on Ramsesses. He read his entire biography in French and begins to share with Chuck even more tidbits of his life:

        He is fourteen years old when he becomes pharaoh.

    

        He is married to the famed Nefertari, his first wife and favorite queen. Even after she died, Ramsesses continued to have statues dedicated to her, reliefs done of her. Scholars say he was obsessed with her. 

         Supposedly he is the pharaoh associated with Moses in that wonderful Hollywood movie The Ten Commandments. Ramsesses is the pharaoh who rejects a Moses who demands over and over again--Let my people go--but there is no concrete evidence to support that connection. 

        Ramsesses lives to be 96 years old, has over 200 wives and concubines, 96 sons and 60 daughters. He lives so long that his subjects believe that when he dies the world will come to an end.

        There is no ancient site in Egypt that does not make mention of Ramsesses the Great. 

        Chuck becomes more interested in Ramsesses. When Chuck gets excited, he wants to be walking around and sniffing. That is what is happening now. He begins to meow. The crowds around us moves on to tour the temple.  

        "All right. All right. Just for a minute or two." 

        Now that Chucky's paws are on the ground, he darts over to Ramsesses, sniffing at the base of the magnificent statue. 

         Dan and I are gazing around. We walk around the temple proper and begin to examine some of the walls. The reliefs tell a story of the pharaohs interacting with the gods. 

        Don't worry, though, I have my eye on Chuck. There is no way he is getting lost here. I'm soaking up all the Egyptian history and lore and watching Chuck at the same time.

        In fact, I notice him move away from Ramsesses. I notice him move away from where we are. It is a big complex and he seems to be on some kind of mission. Moving faster now.

        "Dan, it's Chuck."

      

        Chuck can scadaddle rather quickly when he wants to. He is racing now as if being drawn somewhere toward the temple. Suddenly, he seems to disappear around a corner.

        

         "Oh, no." My greatest fear is that he'll go inside, and we'll never find him. Because we've been warned to go in the temple as a group. Don't wander in there alone. An errant thought enters my mind. Chucky in there alone. This temple was built for the gods. Maybe there are still some spirits there . . . some forces . . .

          Dan breaks into a run, headed in Chuck's direction. In a minute Dan disappears. 

          I hold my breath. Now both of them could be headed toward disaster. I try to wait patiently. Everything is going to be okay. There has got to be some reasonable explanation why Chuck ran into the temple. Dan will find Chuck, and they will be back. I know they will. 

        Chuck has not been abducted by the gods.

        Sure enough, I see Dan emerging, unscathed from the temple. He's waving. Chuck is following close behind.

          "What was that all about?"

          Dan lowers his voice. "The kid wanted some privacy."

    

          "What?"

          "Let's just say that all that water he drank earlier, well, he suddenly realized he needed to use the restroom facilities."

            What???? "Chucky, I hope you didn't . . . take a whizz . . . in the . . . temple."

                    Chuck has his lips pressed together. He looks up at me. He's not saying anything, but I can guess what he's thinking. "Mom, a boy has to do what a boy has to do."

    

           

                  

        

         

        

        

Rascal Chuck and the Heliopolis House Adventure

             The gig is up, as they say. We have no option but to tell Noah the truth. Especially after Chuck lets out another BIG MEOW.

 

         “Yes. He’s our cat. Chuck.”

 

         Noah opens his mouth to say something. Probably, the usual. Cats aren’t allowed in . . . but he doesn’t. We’re long gone from the seminary and finally heading toward Dan’s house in Heliopolis. We all know that getting into the house, at this point, will be a long shot. There are always complications in Egypt. So, Chuck being there, amazingly, is less of a threat.

 

         Which is super good news because finally Chuck is interested in what’s going on. He wants to see the house. We have no idea why except that maybe we’ve been talking about it for the last year or so . . . Chuck maybe imagines it to be some grandiose structure, surrounded by catnip gardens.

 

         Anyway, all Noah does is nod and then the focus is on finding the house. Dan still remembers his address after many years. He’s said it out loud every so often. It always sounds totally incomprehensible to me. Luckily, he can spell it—in Arabic—and Noah has put it into his GPS so we find this illusive house without too much trouble. We park the car and hit our first obstacle.

         The gate keeper. Now, in America, you encounter a gate with a guard (and clipboard) only when you want to meet a very wealthy or very important person, and you usually have an appointment. Here, in Egypt, we have no appointment. The gate keeper only speaks Arabic, and Dan’s house now belongs to a church. 

 

         Dan’s Arabic has slowly been coming back since we arrived in Egypt, but it’s not nearly good enough to explain why we want to get inside the gate and see the house. Noah tries to explain in his faltering Arabic. For some odd reason, the gate keeper gets it and lets us through. Miracle #1

 

         He doesn’t even blink when he sees Chucky. Miracle #2

 

         But the house is locked. A phone call has to be made. To the head church guy. Who has to agree. He does. And then he has to find the grounds keeper who has the key. As we’re waiting, we’re offered a soda. It seems the idea that Dan grew up in this house enthralls everyone. In fact, a guy shows up out of nowhere insisting he used to play baseball with Dan. The guy with the key shows up and unlocks the house. Miracle #3

         

            We’re in. Chucky’s in. It’s only polite to wait for a tour. Dan is looking around trying to remember which room is which. The house is now a kind of meeting place for church officials, fund raising projects, etc. There is no sign of anything from when he lived there—only the  rooms are the same and yet different—the kitchen, dining room, the bedrooms and the porch out back. 

 

         Chucky, however, has taken a different view. He’s going to sniff out the entire place. Leave not a corner unsniffed. He is determined to get his fill as if he’s been comissioned with writing a report on this house once we’re back in America. He's also being very secretive about it. 

          We begin walking room to room. Dan is enjoying this trip down memory lane, gleefully recounting stories of how they belonged to the local swim club during the summer. Of how he used to take the local tram across town to take piano lessons when he was ten. 

 

         “Where is Chucky, by the way?” Dan suddenly asks.

 

         “Somewhere sniffing.”  

         Dan doesn't look surprised. 

         "What's going on?"

      

         "Well, I might have implied that there's a small garden of . . . " 

         Sure enough, Chucky has somehow found his way outside and is sniffing the perimeter of the house, in search of the supposed garden. Outside a bunch of boys are playing ball.

          "Is there any catnip back there, really?"

          "I had to find someway to keep him happy."

           "You're right. He was moping around. But you know, you gave him mission impossible." 

            "He should be thanking us."

           Now, of course, we feel incredibly guilty. 

           But all is well. The boys spot Chucky and run over to pet him. He is the center of attention. Which he loves. They decide to make him the mascot for their team.

            Chucky never finds the garden or the catnip. But the rascal cat is purring away and that makes all the difference.