Eyewitness
How valid is a marriage license if you have your cat provide its paw print as a witness to the ceremony? In Colorado, very valid.
Steve Terry, 29, and Amanda Moeck, 32, first met in Atlanta after a musical performance by Steve. They quickly realized they not only had a love for each other but also nature, music and cats.
After a trip across the United States, the two decided to move to Denver. Three years after first meeting, the couple came back to Georgia to be married before family and friends last September.
After the newlyweds returned from their honeymoon in Iceland, they discovered that Amanda’s mother lost their marriage license before it was officially filed. That meant they needed to get married again. Fortunately for Steve and Amanda, Colorado allows for self-solemnization.
For a trip to the county clerk’s office to obtain a marriage license and a $30 fee, a couple can legally marry themselves. Also, you’re not required to have any witnesses, unless of course you want your cat for that function.
This month, Momo, the first cat obtained by Amanda and Steve as a couple, was given the honor of witnessing wedding number two.
Following the DIY “I do’s”, it was time for Momo to perform her duties as witness and sign the marriage license.
If you think this was done haphazardly, think again. Practice makes purrfect.
“We practiced so much before we actually put her paw print on the marriage license,” Amanda told the New York Post. “The first time it was just a big smear.”
Momo came up big with her pawmanship and sealed the deal, making these wedding meows extra special.
“Are you surprised that a cat was acting as an official witness to a wedding?”
I turned around to see it was our cat, Chester, asking the question as he peered over the top of the latest Brides magazine he was reading.
“Sure I am,” I said. “I didn’t know a cat could be in such a role. And why are you reading Brides?”
“Believe it or not, I have a sentimental side to me and I’m a sucker for wedding dresses. ‘Tis the season,” Chester gushed.
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Chester continued. “If your ridiculous education system accurately taught you history, you’d know that cats have been in the middle of some of yesteryear’s biggest moments in an official capacity.”
How could I not get hooked on that?
“Do tell,” I requested.
“Let’s start with the Bible,” Chester began. “You think King Solomon came up with cutting the baby in half stuff on his own? No! It was his cat advisor Ajaib who whispered in his ear with that suggestion.
“To sell his idea even more, Ajaib started yelling, ‘Do it King. Right down the middle.’ Pretty neat trick to find out who the real mother of the kid was.”
“You couldn’t do that today,” I deadpanned. “Child Services would be on Solomon’s butt in a hurry and the DA would charge him with a host of offenses, landing the king and cat in the slammer for years.”
“True,” Chester agreed. “But if Solomon did that today because of a feline, only he’d be in jail. No one is going to believe a cat told him to do that. The feline version of Son of Sam if you ask me.
“Now let’s jump ahead to the beginning of the United States. The founding fathers showed courage in challenging Bristish rule. They also came up with an inspiring document in the Declaration of Independence, but those guys were really disorganized. But they were smart enough to bring in Zebedee Rufus Cat to keep the Continental Congress moving.
“Z.R. Cat had those wig wearing wonder boys sign in order of geography starting with New Hampshire and working south to Georgia. He also put his paw down after John Hancock hogged a big portion of the document with his, well… John Hancock. After that, Mr. Cat made sure the rest of the names were written smaller so they all fit on the parchment.
“Mr. Cat also tried to get Thomas Jefferson to write the opening sentence as ‘that all men and cats are created equal.’ But he crossed out cats. Alexander Hamilton would never do that.”
“I saw Hamilton on Broadway,” I said. “That ‘all cats are created equal’ never came up. You sure about that?”
“Positively sure,” Chester snarled. “Clearly you had poor schooling. Now where was I going next? Oh yeah.
“You’ve seen pictures of the Japanese surrender to the allies on the battleship Missouri that ended World War II,” Chester asked.
“Sure, what about it,” I responded, wondering how far Chester was going to go with this history lesson.
“There were plenty of generals and admirals on that ship. You think they had a clue on the proper protocol? Bumper to bumper brass all trying to get their signature on the Instrument of Surrender. It was like Chicago’s Dan Ryan expressway during rush hour.
“It took a cat to organize what could have been a major snafu.
“Lieutenant JG William “Claws” Tabby’s actions prevented a restart of WWII. He discreetly whispered in the key players’ ears on who was to speak when and the order and place for everyone’s signatures. He received the Meritorious Service Medal for his actions.
“Of course, history is written by humans so us cats get no credit where credit is due.
“I could go on forever on cats’ contributions to human history, but you get the idea.”
“Very impressive,” I said. “But what about that foul-up in 2017 at the Academy Awards when the wrong film was announced for best picture? Who was the cat responsible for that fiasco?”
“No cat, stupid,” Chester howled. “PricewaterhouseCooopers who counts the ballots made the colossal mistake of hiring a dog. What other creature could screw up simple math.”
“What about those two accountants from PWC they showed during the program,” I inquired.
“They were actors,” Chester explained. “Their credibility would be shot long before the error was made by showing the world a dog is running point for your company on tabulating the winners.
“Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway were made to look like fools because of that mistake. They should have been given a lot of acclamation just to be able to read the card in the envelope. That’s because the idiotic dog had slobbered all over it making it nearly impossible to read. Those two are true Hollywood professionals.”
“I stand corrected,” I humbly replied.
“Your idiocy frightens me,” Chester said. “Now that I’ve enlightened you on cats’ contributions to history, I’m feeling quite hungry.”
“Say no more, Chester,” I said. “I’ll fix you up something special for your scholarly wisdom. I assume you’ll want to witness my efforts to ensure I perform my duties according to protocol?”
“Of course,” Chester said with a grin. “I’m not sure you know how to open a can.”
The Chester Chronicles 
Chester should write a book
LikeLike
Chester is finicky about a publisher. Of course, he would still need to write a book.
LikeLiked by 1 person