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.
