Friday, August 1, 2008

Big Fat Cat Update

Stop the presses! I have an update on the owner of the BFC (Big Fat Cat) that was found waddling about the streets of New Jersey a few days ago and has since been making the rounds on the talk show circuit. (Yesterday, the BFC sat down the Regis & Kelly and tried to explain her situation. But then she realized that she was a cat and couldn't talk and thus, probably had no business being on a talk show to begin with. So she just sat there and looked fat. Really fat. Oh, my God, is that cat enormous.)

The owner has been found. It may or may not surprise you to learn that the owner of the BFC (nicknamed "Princess Chunk" by shelter workers who, apparently, couldn't think of anything better or that didn't include a royalty reference. Was the cat wearing a tiara when they found her? What's up with the 'Princess' moniker anyway?) is a 65 year old woman named Donna Oklatner. And if that didn't surprise you, I'll be that if you learned that the reason that the cat wasn't in her possession is because her house was foreclosed on. Ah, see? I was right. Surprise.

Yes, that is the reason given for why a BFC (which looks like it could be at least four cats in one, by the way) was on the loose without a collar. According to the fine folks over there at the New York Daily News, in her defense (and the beginning of her explanation), she said, "I would never abandon an animal. I gave it to a friend to give to a shelter. It's like giving babies to a hospital." Well, it's not exactly the same. Unless you've just expelled a 44-pound baby through your uterus and left it to wander about the streets on it's own. They're actually kind of different. Very. Very different.

Oklatner said that she fell behind on her mortgage payments, not because of buying food for the BFC, but because of credit card debt and medical bills. Uh-huh. You know, if I have a choice between paying part of my credit card bill or paying my mortgage, I'm going to choose the mortgage, hands down, probably every time. She didn't seem to look at it that way. Interesting choice.

She continued by saying, "After she was booted from her house, her husband ended up in a retirement home and she crashed with friends, keeping only her dog, Cody." Now, apparently the BFC has a normal sized brother, Puff. (And when I say "normal sized" I mean "sized like a cat and not a small bear") Oklatner manager to get a friend to take Puff, but surprisingly enough, the friend "couldn't" take the behemoth 44 pound BFC. Shocking, I know. But hey, she found a place for three of the four animals that she cared for. Cody, Puff and her husband all ended up with good homes.

So, since she couldn't find a place where she could shove the BFC in through the door, she "asked a friend to call the shelter" and say that she had found the BFC. Then the animal control officer came out and used a derrick (or something) to hoist the BFC into a dog carrier. And the next thing you know, the BFC's on Regis & Kitty Kelly. Good Lord, what a story.

I'm not sure that I buy the whole "my house was foreclosed on and so I had to get rid of my 44 pound cat by having a friend pretend to find her so that the overcrowded shelter will take the BFC" story. Wouldn't most people who were going to let someone hang at their place because they lost their house, prefer a cat over a dog? Granted, the dog looks like it could be an appetizer for the BFC. But in general. A dog over a cat? That almost never happens. Something is weird about the story and I'm sure that we'll find out about it in a few days. Probably after Dateline NBC does an investigative report into the BFC's metabolism and "life before the shelter". You know it's coming.

Actually the good people over yonder at the Courier Post Online reported on this story (as did every other publication online and in print did as well) and in their article, Oklander's story is just a little different in a few places. See, and things like this don't seem like they should be all that complicated. Makes you wonder why the two stories are different, doesn't it? (Of course it doesn't. That's because you and I totally know something is up with this broad and the rest of the whole BFC thing to begin wtih. We don't know what, but we know we're onto something.)

There is one other bit of information about the BFC that is rather important. The BFC's real name is "Powder". Not Princess Powder. Not The Duchess of Powder. Just Powder. Powder, it turns out, couldn't be a princess. Powder, it turns out, would have to be a prince. That's correct. The BFC is so B and so F that they incorrectly determined that it was a "she" due to the apparent absence of that which would have made it a "he". Powder is so freaking big that the forty four pounds of feline fat covered up the, uh, frontal lobe (if you will) to the point where it was like it wasn't even there. Wow.

So in just one week, the BFC went from having a home to living in a shelter, from being relatively unknown to appearing on talk shows and from being a female to being a male. Well, that's a busy week for any human, let alone a cat. Good luck, Powder Pounder.

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