I’ve been reading about the mayor of a small town in Alaska named Stubbs. And yes, he is a cat. First this catches my attention because my childhood cat was named Tubbs, so I naturally have a fondness for cats with similar names. And secondly, how awesome would a cat mayor be?
He’d be purrfect.
Sorry. I couldn’t help himself. But it’s a true—a cat mayor would be purry good.
I’m going to stop now. Seriously.
But I do think it would be fun to live in a town ruled by a cat mayor. Of course, it could reasonably argued that I am ruled by a Feline King already.
Anyway, when one has the idea that a cat mayor might be the way to go, one should talk to someone who has first paw (sorry, sorry) experience as a cat ruler.
So I woke up Emeril from his 5th nap of the day. It was only 11:30 a.m.
He got up at 9:10 a.m.
Yeah, he’s got a good gig.
Anyway, Emeril managed to open one eye when I showed him the article about Stubbs. He seemed rather unimpressed by his story. I find Stubbs to be handsome and heroic.
[Emeril] What do you mean handsome? I am handsome. And he is a lowly mayor. I am royalty. I can believe you woke me up for this!
Sorry, Emeril. I thought you would like to see what your fellow feline friends were doing.
[Emeril] I know what they are doing. They are sleeping, eating and being handsome or pretty. It is what cats do. It is how we roll. Meow!
Dude. You live the good life.
[Emeril] I am a cat. What other kind of life would I live?
Maybe you should be president.
[Emeril] Maybe. As long as all I have to do is look handsome. I excel at looking handsome.
True. You would win by a landslide in a handsome vote.
[Emeril] Thank you. I am going to take a nap now. Please refrain from pestering me until I wake up. You may brush me or pet me after I have eaten. And please, no wet food. Okay? Good night.