Chuck and the Almost Elephant Stampede

The expression “curiosity will kill a cat” was never more true than when Chuck decided he wanted to join Bob and I one evening to watch the elephants go to the trees.

We were on safari in Kenya, Africa, and staying at the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro in a fenced area near a preserve.

The elephant is the biggest land mammal still alive today, and can live to be between 50 and 70 years old. They can weigh from 7,700 pounds (3,500 kilograms) to 26,000 pounds (12,000 kilograms). An elephant can eat about 600 pounds of food and drink 80 gallons of water a day.

To me, these are intimidating statistics.

If you see an elephant lying on the ground, that is not a good sign. It is almost impossible for an elephant to get up, once he is on the ground.

So, one day, Chuck asked the magic question--how do elephants sleep?

Now when Chuckie sleeps, he gets all curled up in his cat bed and sometimes twines himself around Ella (his sister) so that you can’t even tell where one cat begins and the other cat ends. He puts his paw over his nose to keep it warm. He wraps his tail around him. AND Chuckie loves to sleep in the cat beds that are near the heaters. Cats love heat and the sun.

Can you imagine elephants curling themselves in giant elephant beds?

I don’t think so.

Stephen, our guide, who owed his life to Chuck after the leopard in the tree episode, promised to take Chuckie out near dusk to watch the grand exodus of elephants across the plains to the trees.

Stephen explained. “Elephants sleep by leaning against the trees. They can transfer their weight against the trees, little man. So every night they walk across the plains to the trees to sleep. It makes their tree trunk legs feel better.”

Chuckie just blinked. He couldn’t imagine it.

The sight of hundreds of elephants crossing the plains is a magnificent sight. We were parked in the road. They crossed in front of us and behind us. They circled around us. They walked steadily and with purpose, headed toward the trees in the distance. Their journey would take hours, and they did that journey every evening.

You would think Chuck would have been intimidated by that many elephants, but he wasn’t. Perched on the ledge of the safari vehicle, he watched in amazement. But, nevertheless, I held onto him.

Chuckie was always full of surprises. The last thing I needed was a cat leaping out of the vehicle and causing a stampede of elephants. The last thing I needed . . .

That’s when it happened.

Chuckie spotted an elephant that seemed to lag behind the others. An outcast. He pointed his paw in the direction of that particular elephant.

Stephen explained. “That, little man, is the loser elephant. Every herd has one. He is no longer considered part of the group.”

Chuckie did not like that answer. Suddenly, he wasn’t interested in the elephants going to the trees anymore. All he wanted was to help the loser elephant.

I must have a mother’s sixth sense. Just as he was about to bolt out of the safari vehicle, I screamed, “Chuck, don’t you dare.”

But Chuck wanted to get a closer look at the loser elephant.

“Stay in this vehicle.”

Chuck leapt outside and landed in the dust.

The loser elephant, who’d been lagging behind, spied Chuck and now began to move forward.

I half expected Chuckie to run over to the loser elephant. But he didn’t. He meowed. He didn’t growl.

Oh, great. I imagined the worst. Disgruntled loser elephant charges the vehicle. Chuckie is crushed to death. We are killed, of course.

But that didn’t happen.

The loser elephant began to purr, a deep rumbling purr.

“Elephants do purr like cats,” Stephen explained.

“They do? I didn’t know that.”

Chuckie meowed back, even louder.

Then, the other elephants around us starting running. Not toward us, but away.

“Stampede,” Stephen yelled. “Chuck, back in the vehicle.”

Chuck finally listened to Stephen.

When it was over, I couldn’t figure out if Chuck had acted heroically by trying to befriend the poor loser elephant or if he had made the situation worse.

But one thing for sure, at the end of the day, Chuckie had made a new friend with the loser elephant. And, no, I explained to Chuckie, we couldn’t smash all the air out of the loser elephant and take him home with us. Even with the air smashed out of him, we were still talking--what--a thousand pounds of elephant skin??? Stuffed in my carry-on? And what about those tusks? Yikes.

Chuck and the Great Escape As the Cat in the Hat

Despite how it might sound, Chuck is not on the road 365 days a year. When we’re home, the chuckster likes nothing better than to lounge around with his “sibling cats” and he’ll either be chowing down at his favorite food bowl or snoozing the day away. Trust me, you want to be a cat in my house.

But like most kids, Chuck needs fun!

Every morning he rolls down the stairs with that peculiar expression on his face--his whiskers in a snarl, poised with an expectation on his lips. He doesn’t have to SAY anything. IN HUMAN WORDS, I mean. A disgruntled MEOW will suffice. He’s bored and ready for action.

Halloween was no exception. In fact, that day was worse. Chuck is no dummy. He can read a calendar. He knew what pumpkins and Mums on the front porch meant. He knew that when I lugged out the giant bowl filled with chocolate candy and set it on the table in front of the front door, who the bags of candy were for. Trick or treaters.

He wanted to know how he fit in.
 That brings me to the great escape. And the almost costume. Yeah, yeah. I thought of getting Chuckie a costume. First, I posted the question on my facebook page, hoping for inspiration. Then I went to the Chuckster himself-- Who do you want to be?

A dog? That was the obvious undercover choice. Chuckie shook his head.

Felix the Cat. I figured a popular cartoon character would be a possible fit for the chuckster who often saw himself on the big screen. But Chuck shook his head. PETULANTLY.

The Purina Cat Chow mascot, I offered next, thinking that starring in commercials and seeing your face on cat food cans and bags was a worthy choice for a Halloween costume. But Chuck again shook his head.

I put my hands on my hips. Okay. I had to try harder. Maybe Chuckie was thinking more high brow--literary cat character. Grimbold, the black “prince of cats,” I explained to Chuckie, making my voice sound inviting, who led a goatherd on many cool adventures in Grimbold’s Other World by Nicolas Stuart Gray, but even as I said it, I could see it was way too obscure for my modern Chuck.

Okay, okay. How about Bagheera? A PANTHER.

Now here, Chuck’s eyes lit up.

He was in Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, I added for good measure. Some interest because Chuck paced the great room, but when he returned, he plopped down in front of me, disappointed still.

Eureka, who was Dorothy’s cat in the Wizard of Oz. You love to watch the Wizard of Oz on television, I reminded him.

He eyed me suspiciously.

So what? So what if she’s a girl? Does that really matter?

It did. Macho Chuck was not about to put on a girly cat costume.

I had one more idea. Okay, Chuck, this is it. You like to wear hats, right. How about DR. Seuss’ Cat in the Hat?

Yes! He went for it. And . . . all went well, the trick or treating part, the wearing of the hat part, until he was recognized.

Well, let me back up. Chuck donned his costume. He went out trick or treating around the neighborhood. As the Cat in the Hat. Then he was recognized. Not as Hot Blogging Chuck. Oh, no. As a CAT dressed up as the Cat in the Hat. The mere fact that it was a CAT trick or treating and not a KID, threw the rest of the KIDS into a near state of panic.

The tiny trick or treaters started chasing Chuck down the street. They wanted a closer look. Chuck dropped his candy and lost his hat. The poor kid, I mean CAT.

It all happened so fast I wasn’t even able to snap a photo for the blog.

Later, after Chuck calmed down, he agreed to pose with his favorite Cat in the Hat book.

Needless to say, no more trick or treating for the belly boy.

EVER!