Rascal Chuck Visits a Mosque

     After our encounter with the mummies, we decide to do something very different. Since we are still in the heart of Cairo, why not visit a mosque? But this is not just any mosque . . .

    I know what you're thinking. A mosque? Official definition: a place of prayer for Muslims. Usually they are covered buildings but they can be any place where prayers are performed, including outdoor courtyards. Nowadays, Muslims attend mosque on Friday for midday prayers, teaching, and sermons. Mosques are also used for weddings, funerals, Ramadan festivals, community spaces and sometimes offered as homeless shelters. 

     The Ibn Toulum Mosque is on our radar because it is special. Chucky wants to know why we want to go there. I'm willing to tell all, but first . . .

      "No nonsense, here, Chuck. You must be on your best behavior."

      When a cat is listening, really listening, they do everything to act as if they can't hear a word. Chuck is on the ground in front of us, and he decides at that very moment to begin grooming himself. I know Chuck. I know all his tricks. In fact, Chuck is what I call an "over-groomer." 

     "Chuck, do you hear me?"

      But he only grooms more intently. It's as if he's just come in from outside and been caught in the middle of a rainstorm and desperately needs to clean his fur. Utterly ridiculous because he is sparkling clean.  

     Dan grabs hold of my arm. "He hears you."

    "This mosque is one of the oldest mosques in Egypt, in all of Africa," Dan explains in his most patient voice, directed mostly at Chuck. "And it's the largest mosque in Cairo."

    Chucky stops grooming and blinks once. Does that mean he's actually listening and is impressed?

    "Listen, buddy, it's built around an open square courtyard. There's a covered hall on each of its four sides. The largest hall faces Mecca." (the holiest city in Islam.)

     Before Chucky can blink or groan, I ask, "Who built it?"

    "The then Governor of Egypt had it built in 876 AD."

    "Whoa, that was a long time ago."

     "But that's not the best part . . ."

      I'm hoping there will be something even more exciting. We are now walking into the main entrance. The place is big. I read somewhere that the grounds cover close to six acres of land.  

      "The locals believe that this mosque on a hill was built on the exact spot where Noah's Ark landed after the flood."

      I glance over to see the expression on Chuck's face. At the moment he's focused on a stream of light that's shooting down into the courtyard. I'm busy looking around at this magnificent place.

      

        "Anything else that's exciting?" I ask.

       "They made part of a James Bond film here."

       "Really? Which one?"

       "The Spy Who Loved Me."

        One thing about Chuck--other than the History Channel, he doesn't care too much for film. Not even James Bond.

        "I think we better keep moving."

        Dan points. "To the minaret." 

        One of the distinguishing features of this mosque is the minaret. 

It is a tall, slender tower with a balcony from which Muslims are called to prayer. 

      Immediately, we decide we should go to the top because we want to see the million dollar view of Cairo.

    "To the very top?" I ask.

     Dan nods. He loves a good challenge. Even if it means climbing a few thousand steps around an edge where there isn't any edge to hold onto, where you're really high up and far from the ground. I could do it because heights don't freak me out but Dan? 

      As we get closer and closer, I remind him, "Aren't you afraid of heights?"

       No answer.

       We get to the first stage of the minaret and admire the magnificent views of Cairo.

     

       

 

    I see the minaret in the distance. I'm happy where I am. 

     Dan takes off. With Chucky. 

     I figure they will be gone a good twenty minutes or so. It is a beautiful morning. The air is fresh and clean. So, I'm a bit surprised when suddenly they're back--like eight minutes later.  

     "Well, how was it?"

     "Chuck changed his mind. He didn't want to go."

     Chuck? The rascal cat? The kid that hardly ever steps away from an adventure? He changed his mind?  There has got to be more to the story.

      "What happened?"

      "Nothing. Really. We were on our way up. And we got to that first bend." He points to that part where there is no ledge at all as you go around.

       I nod. Totally understanding. More than he thinks I understand.

       "We were pretty high up off the ground."

       Images flash back. When we climbed up the pyramid that time on that rickety metal ladder-like structure that had a railing that ended just at the crucial point where Dan needed it most. 

       "Chucky is afraid of heights, I suppose," I say.

        No answer. 

        "Well, you can't blame the kid. A phobia is a phobia."

        I look down at Chuck. I'm not going to say he's rolling his eyes at his dad's version of the story but he's doing whatever cats do to show me there's no way that's what happened. 

        I lean down and whisper, "I know. I know." Then I sneak him a secret snack. A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.

        

       

      

     

       

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