Wedding Cat Crashers

With This Cat I Do Thee Adopt

Cassie and Jonathon Roth put a twist on the traditional tossing of the wedding bouquet at their reception that was purrfectly suited for their love of cats.

The bouquet toss has its roots in 19th century England where it was considered good luck for an unmarried woman to land a husband if she caught the flower arrangement.

The Ross newlyweds substituted the bouquet for a cat plushie with the reward being whomever caught the doll, would agree to adopt a rescue cat. That opened up participation to everyone who wanted a cat and there were two kitties up for adoption.

As one of their first acts as a married couple, Cassie and Jonathon jointly tossed the cat plushie to an eagerly awaiting group of feline fanatics and the scramble was on.

A great idea, but I did have one slight criticism of using a plushie. Why not toss the cats instead?

I asked our cat Chester what he thought of my idea. At first, he just stared at me. But as he pondered my concept, the tabby began to show interest.

“You need to sell me on this brainiac,” Chester said.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s the big deal about fighting over a doll when the prize is a real cat? Let’s see who really wants one when the fur ball is coming at you with its claws extended and meowing an ungodly cat war cry.”

“Ok, I’m beginning to get a better picture of this,” Chester said. “But isn’t there a good chance of someone getting hurt?”

“As the great gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson said, ‘Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing'” I told Chester.

“Or blood spilling when those cats claw up the wedding guest. I’m liking the sound of this more and more,” Chester squealed.

“That’s correct,” I exclaimed. “To get something, you have to give something and isn’t a little blood loss a small price to pay to have a furry friend in your home?

“But you do need to provide some protection to the cat-catching competitors. That’s why as part of their party favors, guests are given raptor handling gloves and fencing masks to deal with the angry cats.”

“And what do the cats get for protection? I’m always thinking of the cats of course,” Chester said in a concerned tone.

“Like I said, they already have protection. They have their claws plus cat attitude,” I said to reassure Chester. “Half drunk partiers will meet their match taking on furious felines.

“But think of the bond the human winners will have with their newly adopted cats. It’s like in Avatar where a Na’vi successfully rides a great leonopteryx. After that battle, the two form a magical connection. Same holds true for human and cat.”

“This is a great idea,” Chester shouted as he envisioned a wedding reception resembling a scene out of Bride of Chucky.

“Why don’t you get married so we can have a cat toss,” Chester begged.

“You know I’m already married,” I reminded our cat.

“Who cares, get married again,” Chester implored.

“Who cares,” I said incredulously. “My wife cares!”

“So, what would she do if you got married again,” Chester asked.

“First, she would do to me what those wedding banquet cats would do to the guest except I wouldn’t have any protection,” I said, exacerbated at the suggestion. “Secondly, if she wasn’t satisfied with the result of number one, she’d just kill me.”

“What about what Hunter S. Thompson said,” Chester asked.

“My blood isn’t racing to get a cat. Besides, he didn’t mention anything about dying for something that gets your blood up, just losing a little bit of it.”

“You’re no fun,” Chester said glumly.

“Here’s what we can do,” I countered. “We can call around to banquet facilities and find out when they’re hosting wedding receptions. For the ones that are pet themed, we can sneak in and set up our own version of a cat adoption toss. What do you think of that?”

Chester’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I love it,” the tabby proclaimed. “But let’s not hand out gloves or masks. I want a great show.”