Chubby

Our family cat just isn't very bright.

Ever since Chubby (trust me, she's growing into that name) has been around, she has done absolutely nothing to make me say, "Now there is one smart animal." Not once during her stupefied existence on this planet, has she done anything to better our society.

All she does is just lay around all day. She lays around when my wife fixes supper. She lays around when my wife does the dishes. She lays around when my wife folds the laundry. She lays around while my wife vacuums. She lays around when my wife makes the bed. She just lays around all of the time. I know this because I am in constant surveillance of the cat from my perch on our living room couch.

When she wants something, she stares at you with these cold, vacuous eyes and gives this half-hearted noise that somewhat resembles a meow if you listen really close. It's up to us intelligent humans to determine what it is the feeble-minded feline wants. Does she want to go outside? Does she want food? Does she want me to pick her up, cradle her like a baby and rub her fat, gray belly while asking "Who's a good kitty?" in a funny voice, after which she makes a half-hearted attempt at purring her approval? Or does she want me to go into the bathroom and turn on the water faucet to just the right temperature and pressure so that she can get a moderately cool drink without getting too much splash back onto her whiskers and paws? It could be any one of these scenarios, and I usually have to go through each and every one of them before I can figure out what she wants. What a moron!

I think of how dimwitted this beast is every time I have to dispose of a bag of its used, clumpy, smelly kitty litter. Every time I walk the walk of shame down to the outside garbage can, holding the aforementioned bag of doo-doo at arm's length, I constantly mutter to myself how obtuse this creature really is. She usually blinks at me and flicks her tail.

I grumble about Chubby's ignorance every time I go to sit in my comfy chair to watch a scintillating episode of "Rodeo Girls" on A&E and I find her laying there on her back taking a nap. This usually means that I have to go sit in the uncomfortable chair that is right next to the television which creates an awkward viewing angle to the screen. Have you ever tried to watch "Rodeo Girls" while being askew? It totally loses all of its meaning, and you miss out on the entire plot.

Every single day, this idiotic animal watches me as I stumble around a darkened house as I get ready for work. Take this morning for instance. The cat was staring at me as I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to go out and shovel my driveway for 45 minutes in a below-zero wind chill, so I could take a half-hour, 19.2 mile trip to work in 11-degree weather on snow-drifted, ice-covered rural northern-Illinois roads in the early-morning, pre-dawn darkness, so I could sit at this computer to type this — something that I could have done on my iPad while seated in either the comfortable or the cockeyed chair in my nice warm house. Oh well, I needed to come to town any way. We need more cat food.

So in review, basically I question the intelligence of Chubby, the cat, whenever I feed it, water it, pet it or carry around a collection of her lumpy, stinky droppings.

Dumb cat.

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