Cats of a Different Feather
The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
Isaiah 11:6-7
The Bible forgot one – cats and ducks.
Head to Miami Lakes, Florida and you’ll find a clowder of cats and a flock of ducks hanging out in peaceful harmony.
Reddit user u/deadpegasusx, who goes by the name Axel, came across the surreal scene near the town library.
“I was just going to buy some books when I saw a cat running,” Axel told Newsweek. “I followed it until I got into the little alleyway that had all those animals—there were ducklings and kittens hanging out together like there wasn’t a difference in species, it was adorable.”
As The Chester Chronicles has noted on several occasions, cats kill billions of birds every year. Apparently, these Florida cats don’t have duck on their menu.
The joining of forces between the cat cabal and the fowl faction is perplexing. With several ducklings wandering around that’s especially so. But Axel observed a kumbaya world between the natural enemies.
“Honestly, I still have no idea how it happened, I would have expected the cats to eat the ducklings, but nope,” Axel said.
I showed our do-nothing cat, Chester, the pictures and asked him the same question Axel raised, how did this happen?
“Don’t be fooled by these cute appearing species,” Chester started. “They’re both brutally tough animal gangs. It’s like the alliance between the Hells Angels and Hessians motorcycle clubs, you don’t want to mess with them.
“As for how did this happen? Extortion and maybe a little homicide fun. This Axel guy noted he found these duckie delinquents and feline felons in an alleyway. Nothing good happens in an alleyway. You walk down that passageway where the cats and ducks are and you can expect to be shaken down for bird seed and kibble. If you don’t have any….well.”
“You think that’s what happened to Axel,” I asked my sociologist of a cat.
“Sounds like Axel beat the odds and got out of there safely,” Chester continued. “He probably promised to give these hoodlums some free publicity for not getting beat up or worse. Deep inside, these cats and ducks have big egos. They like seeing themselves on social media.
“Face it, if you walk down that alley and don’t have kibble, bird seed, or some other vice these thugs like, we’ll your relatives will be thankful you had a life insurance policy. Look at all those candid photos he took. It’s like the Taliban inviting a Western journalist to see how terrorism is made.”
“Why don’t people just hand over money,” I asked.
“These animals don’t take American Express or cash,” Chester said. “They want their goodies now. They don’t shop and that includes Amazon.
“Look at how healthy these cats and ducks appear. Their way of doing business seems like it’s working out well for them.”
“So why isn’t law enforcement doing anything about this,” I demanded.
“Because they have the cops on the take,” Chester retorted. “There’s a Starbucks just down NW 67th Avenue. Of course, these flatfoots like their doughnuts, but when you can also get your teeth into a Petite Vanilla Bean Scone or an Iced Lemon Loaf, well now you’re high living it.”
“Fascinating,” was all I could say.
“Yeah, just be thankful this is the only known known cat-duck alliance out there,” Chester quipped. “But there’s a rumor of a cat-armadillo coalition by the M Doughnuts store in Waco, Texas. Local cops are suckers for Buttermilk Bars.
“If more cats start teaming up with other species, you humans should be very worried.
“Now this topic has me hankering to try a doughnut. You don’t mind if I have a taste of your Boston Cream?”
“Be my guest,” I meekly said, not wanting Chester to start recruiting an interspecies gang.
Stiffed
I’ve been trying to cheer up Chester over the past few weeks. That’s because of his tremendous disappointment over the highly expected appearance of Choupette at the Met Gala.
Choupette is the multimillionaire cat of the late German fashion icon, Karl Lagerfeld, whom the Gala was dedicated to. Anything related to Lagerfeld’s designs or his likes, including Choupette, was fair game as a dress up theme for the rich and famous.
Celebrities like Doja Cat and Jared Leto went full Choupette with their outfits, paying homage to both Lagerfeld and his feline.
The Chester Chronicles jumped on the Choupette to the Met Gala bandwagon in anticipation of the cat’s triumphant appearance. It was a done deal according to the feline’s agent (you read that correctly), Lucas Berullier.
Unfortunately for her fans, Choupette turned into a scaredy-cat and stiffed the event.
The blue-cream tortie Birman had her public relations flacks type an Instagram thank you to the swanky sycophants for not showing up to her hyped appearance.
“We preferred to stay peacefully & cozy at home,” Choupette was credited as purring to her legions of cat maniacs.
As to who ‘we’ is, that wasn’t made clear. It could have been a clowder of uppity feline and modeling friends partying on a super yacht on the French Riviera or maybe just a get together with the PR mouthpieces at her suite within the Beau-Rivage Palace in Switzerland. Either way, you know they were engaged in a cocaine and catnip binge.
It was like when Guns N’Roses frontman Axl Rose didn’t show for the bands opening tour gig in 2002 at Vancouver. Unlike the restrained response by the Choupette groupies, the metalheads in Canada rioted. Can you imagine the destruction the Metropolitan Musuem of Art would have suffered if anarchy broke out?
Met PR statement: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re sorry to inform you that the medieval armor exhibit is not open because of an unfortunate incident last night. The display of mounted knights has seen several large dents impacted on the armor and several helmets decapitated from the torsos.
“Also, several paintings have been altered including Degas’ The Ballet Class in which someone thought it was funny to draw in a likeness of transgender influencer and Bud Light drinker Dylan Mulvaney into our priceless piece of art.”
Meanwhile, the common cats, like Chester, who worship Choupette, we’re left in the cold by the AWOL aristocat.
Our do-nothing cat hadn’t moved since the great disappointment, spending his time wrapped in a blanket in the basement. We had to hand feed him his kibble and use an IV drip so he wouldn’t dehydrate. I’ll spare you the details on the whole litter box thing. He was pitiful to look at.
When he talked, you could barely hear him, more mumbling than speaking. But time does heal most wounds and after a while, Chester began to sound like his old self but with a touch of bitterness.
“WHAT THE F**K WAS THAT ALL ABOUT,” Chester screamed, jolting me out of the chair I was sitting in. “You get all pumped to see your favorite cat and she doesn’t show.”
“Is there anything I can believe in anymore,” my once docile cat asked. “There must be a word for this rip off.”
“You mean like betrayal, dishonesty or treachery,” I chimed in.
“Yeah, like those words,” my perturbed cat sputtered.
“I follow that double-crossing queen on her social media channels,” Chester roared. “I bought into the whole persona thing but it’s all A LIE!
“Acta, non verba (deeds, not words) my sweet Choupette,” my now Latin speaking pet said. “Your mea culpa isn’t cutting it with me, princess.
“Your absence from the Met Gala cuts me to the bone. How I feel is best encapsulated by my favorite writer, Bill Shakespeare, a real cool cat.
“To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune because you blew off your fans
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles like your PR hacks,
And by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,—; not me sister.
No more; I’m just saying we end our relationship
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks of you two-timing me and all the other ‘fans’.
Ay, there’s the rub.”
I was impressed with Chester. I didn’t know he was a fan of Shakespeare or his ability to use his most famous soliloquy for the right situation. But there it was, all spelled out by our tabby. Chester and Choupette were kaput, though the French feline wasn’t aware of that.
Being a gentle cat, though with some rough edges, Chester wasn’t going to leave any troll comments on Choupette’s social media sites. But finally getting his anger off his chest, he finally came around to being the Chester we all love; snarky put kind.
“Can you pull this stupid tube out of my paw,” Chester said, glaring at the IV. “I’m tired of being tired and want to walk around again. I’m done with this faux amour from Choupette. I’m just another like on her Instagram page.”
“Good for you, Chester” I said in an encouraging tone. “Move on and get over your depression.
“Chester, did you hear what I said? Chester? CHESTER!”
Chester was fixated with something on my phone.
“Who’s this Nala Cat on Instagram, Chester stammered. “Look at her eyes, wow! I think I’m in love.”
“Slow down cat,” I pleaded. “It took you weeks to get over what happened with Choupette and you said you were just a like on her Instagram page. Don’t go down that road again my friend.”
“But look at her, she’s gorgeous,” Chester swooned.
Let me warn you about your new expectations courtesy of your boy, Bill Shakespeare.
“Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises, and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest and despair most fits” – from All’s Well That Ends Well
“What are you trying to tell me,” Chester said, annoyed I was giving him advice.
“Get off social media,” I said raising my voice. “It’s not real.”
“It’s real to me,” Chester cracked. “Now how about some kibble so I can get back in shape for my new girlfriend!”
Ay, there’s the rub.
The Chester Chronicles 