Chuck Invades Space Capsule at Smithsonian

One of the iconic sights of Washington, D.C.

I always blog about how Chuck is such a rascal and our trip to Washington, D.C. a while back was a perfect example of Chuck the rascal cat in action.  We arrived by train from New Jersey, and Chuck immediately meowed that he wanted to go to the Smithsonian Institute to see the space capsule.  You know,  the one that landed on the moon.  This was supposedly a secret wish he’d had ever since he’d been a kitten and saw some program on TV about the capsule.

Go figure!

So off we went on a beautiful February day, a Friday, to be exact, in the later afternoon, when luckily the tourist traffic was at a minimum.  Which was a critically important point because frankly, cats are not allowed inside the Smithsonian Museum, and it would take quite a bit of fancy maneuvering to get Chuck out of my backpack without being seen so he could sniff around the capsule and get an eyeful to his heart’s content if even a few people were milling about.

When we arrived at the Smithsonian, we made a beeline for the capsule which was on the first floor, but unfortunately, it was right in the middle of everything, in clear view of about four guides who manned the front desk.  We strategized.  Bob volunteered to go to the desk and act as a distraction while I wandered innocently over to the capsule.  My plan was simple.  I would stand on the back side of the capsule, wait until I was relatively alone, and then let Chuck sneak out and get a peak of the capsule.

Just one of the many vintage planes hanging from the ceiling

Of course, complications arose immediately because Chuck let it be known that he didn’t just want to see the capsule, he wanted to climb inside of it and pretend he was an astronaut flying in space.  The first cat astronaut, which would make Chuck a “castronaut.”   New word, new concept.

Chuck was hung up on the space capsule; I was also interested in the space suit!

More complications.  Oh, yes, we got Chuck inside the capsule.  Don’t ask me how many laws I broke to do that, but . . . we discovered almost immediately that Chuck was claustrophobic.  That capsule is tiny inside.  I mean really tiny.  It is hard to imagine how a human man fit inside there.  And Chuck, well, we call him Chucky Cheese behind his back.

He used to be a cute, adorable kitten.  Now he’s a cute, adorable fat cat.

But, still, Chuck is tough.  He insisted on rolling around inside the capsule as if he was weightless, which he is not!

This is where Chuck wanted to be!

Some imagination that cat has!

Then catastrophe struck.  I was standing there, my eyes glued to the interior of the capsule watching Chuck roll around when I heard, “Psst.” I whirled around in time to see Bob signaling towards a guide who was walking towards us.  With a frown on his face.  Trouble.

At the same time, I could hear Chuck “meowing” from inside, totally lost in the moment, enjoying his fantasy inside the capsule.

I knocked furiously on the capsule window.  “Niksay.  Niksay,” which was our code word for “Cease and Desist.”

Immediately the meowing stopped, and for one tense moment my life flashed before my eyes. What would happen if Chuck was caught inside the capsule? Would he be arrested? Put on trial? Taken away, never to be seen again? I tried to imagine life without Chuck.

But then what I would call a miracle happened.

Guide #1 who was hell bent and coming our way was intercepted.  By another guide.  There was a problem with the lunar module display case and now Guide #1 had to go and check it out.  

I whisked around, opened the capsule, pulled out Chuck and shoved the startled “castronaut” into my backpack.

Phew.

The cool space vehicle is also part of the exhibit!

The next day we returned to the Smithsonian Institute, but we’d decided it was best that Chuck remain at the hotel.  We ordered in breakfast.  There was a balcony.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  Chuck was resting comfortably.  Dreaming, no doubt, of becoming famous.

Chuck Glenn.  Or  Chuck Armstrong.  Or Chuck Lovell . . .

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Chuck Has Almost Meet with Chinese Panda Bear

I know what you’re thinking.

I’m sure that after you read the title--Chinese Panda Bear--you have to be asking yourself--did the Chinese Panda Bear fly here to the states or did Chuck fly to China??

This was not one of Chuck’s finer moments.

He did not enjoy being stuffed into my carryon for fifteen hours (all the air deflated out of him) as we flew non-stop across the oceans and over the top of the world to a place where people use chopsticks rather than forks and knives.

What induced Chuck to even consider the grueling journey was the thought of meeting what I would consider one of the great wonders of the world--at least of the animal world--the giant panda bear.

Chuck had only seen one panda before--at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. and if you remember that incident, he jumped into the panda’s den area and tried to instigate a show down. This time, we had a long talk before we arrived at the Beijing Zoo. There would be no jumping into the den area. Not at the Beijing Zoo. Not in China. Not in this particular tense political climate.

The Chuckster would have to be content with watching the panda bear from afar.

But that was okay with him.

The panda bear from any distance is mesmerizing.

At the Beijing Zoo, there are signs everywhere announcing the existence of the panda bear. When we first spot him, he is not doing much of anything, but we were warned he might be sleeping or resting.
I took this opportunity, as we were gazing at the panda through the glass, to tell Chuck the top five interesting facts about panda bears:

1. 99% of a panda’s diet is bamboo--a diet heavy in protein.
Pandas will also eat honey, eggs, fish, yams, shrub leaves, oranges, bananas, etc.

2. Panda bears live in the lowland areas of Sichuan Province in China. It is estimated that approximately 1590 pandas live in the wild as compared to 239 bears who live in captivity.

3. Male panda bears can weigh up to 350 pounds. Females can weigh up to 280 pounds. But when born, a baby panda weighs only 3 1/2 to 7 ounces.

4.  Pandas are solitary animals. After a baby is born, the father panda leaves the mother to raise the panda on her own.

5.  Panda bears live approximately 30 years in captivity and 20 years in the wild. Ming Ming, in captivity, lived to be 34 years old.

When I’m finished, I knew that I hadn’t answered the one question on Chuckie’s mind.

“No,” I said, “there is no record of a Panda ever attacking and eating a cat.”

Chuck sighed in relief.

“You don’t taste like bamboo,” I added to reassure him. “Plus panda bears are not aggressive by nature. They only attack someone or something who annoys them.”

At this time, the panda bear finally got up and went over to the door that led to the outside area. With his back to us, he stood there on his hind legs for at least ten minutes, facing outside. What was he thinking?

Finally, he wandered outside, and Chuck and I scooted out of the building so we could see what he was up to.

And I knew what Chuck was thinking. And hoping. He wanted to meet Mr. Panda. He wanted that panda bear to wander over to where we were standing. He wanted that bear to acknowledge us in some way. A friendly wave. A giant nod of his head. Something. Anything.

Chuck has no patience.

I was fascinated just watching the panda move.

Chuck was not.

Then it happened.

I had come to this exhibit with no expectations.

Chuck had come expecting everything.

Suddenly, the panda grabbed a bamboo branch and started eating it.

And eating it. And eating it.

I guess when pandas weigh hundreds of pounds, they need a lot of bamboo to feel satisfied. It takes them a long time to eat enough bamboo to fill their bellies.

I pulled out my iphone and started videotaping the panda eating the bamboo.
What a wonderful thing to watch.

Chuck began to get restless.

“Can you wait?” I shouted out.

But Chuck figured that panda could be sitting there for hours eating that bamboo.

I clicked off my iphone, ended the videotape, and glared at Chuck.

“You are the biggest baby.”

He glared back at me, impatience all over his face.

I mean it.

It was time to leave. I took one last look at the panda eating the bamboo. WOW. You don’t see this in the states everyday. WOW.

To see some remarkable video of the panda eating bamboo, log onto www.katelutter.com and click on the link on my homepage that will take you to my You Tube video. Enjoy!

Chuck Salutes the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

         Chuck, the rascal cat, did not grow up wanting to be a soldier cat.
      He does not know that much about history.
      But every night when we’re home, he plasters himself on the rug in front of the television and watches the news.
      He knows about Arlington National Cemetery and the eternal flame that burns for President John F. Kennedy.  
      I shouldn’t have been surprised when one day he pointed with his paw to an article about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  
     That is how Chuckie usually communicates with us.
     He wanted to see the ceremony. 
     And with Armed Forces Day coming up, and Memorial Day just around the corner, I thought what better way to honor our soldiers and pay tribute, than to visit this special place.
    From our hotel in Washington, D.C., we took the subway and then walked the rest of the way to Arlington National Cemetery.   At the cemetery we purchased a ticket for the shuttle bus service that rides you around to all the key sights, otherwise it would take hours to walk from sight to sight. 
    On our way to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, I told Chuck that other countries in the world have their own Tomb of the Unknown Soldier  as a way to honor all the soldiers who fight in battle and yet cannot be identified when the war is over.  In fact, it’s key to the concept of this monument that the body buried within the tomb be unidentifiable so that the tomb can maintain its symbolic meaning.  
    The soldier buried in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is there to represent all the soldiers who fought and were never found after the war was over.  
    “Did you get that, Chuck?”
    I can never be sure, but he tilted his head in his usual Chuck fashion and we moved closer to the area where the soldiers go through the ceremony.  
    There is always a crowd.
    On the day we were there, a small group of high school students presented the uniformed soldiers with a wreath to be laid on the tomb.  Approximately eighty tourists stood in respectful silence, watching, as the soldiers followed a very precise pattern of marching back and forth in front of the tomb.  It was both elegant and precise.   
    My usually antsy Chuck went perfectly still as he peeked out of my smart bag.  He watched the soldiers perform their set maneuvers.  The entire ceremony lasted only a few minutes, but it was filled with emotion.  
    Maybe, as you stand there in the cemetery, surrounded by thousands of gravestones, the reality gets to you.
    Each gravestone represents a wounded warrior.  
    A man and woman who gave his or her life selflessly for their country.  
    For our country.   
    To maintain our way of life.  
    For us. 
    When the ceremony was over, I showed Chuck how to salute the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. 
    “It is a sign of respect,” I said.
    Although Chuck usually hates to be told what to do, he didn’t fight me this time.  
    The rascal cat saluted the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.    


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Chuck POSES at the Museum of Natural History

       My rascal cat Chuckster is an anomaly.

       He likes to meet other animals.

       When we were in France, I suspect he fell in love with a French cow.

       And in Vienna, Austria, he gave me no peace until he’d stared into the eyes of an orangutan.  

       Once we arrived back in the states, we took a quick jaunt to Washington, D.C., and ever mindful of Chuck’s education, I was eager to take the kid to the National Museum of Natural History.

       Yes, this was my idea because I’d been there before and I thought that Chuckie would get the biggest kick out of their stuffed animal exhibit.

       What was I thinking?

       But I’m getting ahead of myself because this adventure was fraught with challenges.

       If you’ve ever been there, you know it’s a gigantic place--two floors filled with 124 million objects.  Everywhere you’re surrounded by eager tourists struggling to get somewhere else or see something else.  Bodies push and shove their way past you.  There are food lines.  There are lines to get into the the various exhibits, and even though the museum itself is free, there is usually a line to enter into the place past security. 

       Mad house?

       But, of course, it’s worth every aggravating minute.  

       And I was determined to smuggle Chuckie into the museum and show him this exhibit which I’d seen for the first time myself the year before.  

       The animals look so real.  They are coifed and posed.  Magnificent.  

       As we walked to the museum from our hotel, I tried to explain the concept to my rascal cat.  “These animals look real but they aren’t.  Not like you.  They are fake.  So there’s no need to be afraid.”

       When Chuck is trying to figure something out, his cat eyes become enlarged, and he tends to tilt his head sideways.  I could only imagine what he was thinking.

       And, yes, I do believe that cats can think.  Or plot and scheme.

       He had that very expression on his face.  

       “No, there aren’t any cats on exhibit.  We’re talking big game animals here.  For example, the giraffe.  The monkey.  Safari animals.” 

       I had his attention all right.  

       But the kid looked nervous.

       And he’s not a fan of having to stay all scrunched up in my smart bag.

       Chuckie likes to go places where he can pop out of my bag and run around. 

       Let’s face it, his Top Ten List of places to go does not include--M-U-S-E-U-M-S.  But, I figured, this place was special and not at all typical. 

       We snuck into the place.  Surprisingly, that wasn’t a problem.  (I can’t explain why Chuckie glided through the metal detector and the scanner and wasn’t detected. Or, maybe he was, and the guys that do the detecting couldn’t believe what they were seeing--an orange and white overweight cat stuffed into someone’s smart bag?)

       Rather than press our luck, we scooted to the stuffed animal exhibit.  

       Then I figured our success lay in the timing.  Wait until the exhibit was near deserted then I would let Chuck out to see “up close and personal” the animals on display.  

       Bob volunteered to be the “look out,” and he stood at the end of the long hallway that stretches through the exhibit with the animals.   

       Finally Bob gave the signal, and out popped Chuck.  And he stopped.  Clearly mesmerized, he scanned the animals on display.  

       And this is where the “belly boy” surprised me.

       Chuck wasn’t interested in the elephant or the giraffe, or even the leopard who was posed near his prey. Oh, no.  Without hesitation, Chuck did his best imitation of a moonwalk toward the bat.  Which means--he walked very slowly.  And he proceeded to stare at him.  

       Now, you don’t see bats on display everyday, I grant you that. 

       Then Chuck did something even more amazing.  

       Taking his cue from the animals around him, he POSED.

       He stuck his nose forward.  His tail went rigid.  He put himself into a kind of hunting pose.  Very focused.  As if he were competing.  

       I reached into my smart bag for my camera.  

       This was just too good to be true.

       Chuck POSING at the National Museum of Natural History.

       I aimed my camera and was about to click when . . .

       Bob let out a whistle.

       Chuck heard the signal.

       I, of course, was too enticed with the idea of capturing the rascal cat on my digital camera to display for the rest of the world . . . for my blog . . .to even think about what Bob was trying to tell me . . . warn me about . . .

       But, unfortunately, there wasn’t time to even click the shot.   

       “Kate, c’mon.  People are coming,” Bob shouted down the hallway at the very moment that Chuck dropped the POSE.  

       Gosh darn.

       I whipped open my smart bag as lots of voices resounded in the hallway.

       Chuck hopped back in.

       The moment was forever lost. 

       Gee, but the memory was sweet.

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