The workers at the animal shelter have nicknamed the cat "Princess Chunk", which is just about the stupidest name that they could have thought up. I'm not saying I could do much better, but I would definitely leave the implied royalty out of it. "Princess"? Why not "The Queen of Unlean"? "The Duchess of Muchess"? "Mama Cass"? So many better names that could have been chosen.
The BFC's owner has until Saturday to reclaim her. Those at the shelter, being masters of the obvious, believe that the BFC "is a domestic cat who escaped from her home or was abandoned by her owner." Really?! A "domestic cat", eh? Are you sure that she's not some wild feline from an open African range? Maybe a big-boned ocelot? And she's not a saber toothed tiger or something like that? For reals? Wow. It's a good thing they cleared that up for us. A "domestic cat." Brilliant.
If, barring the unforeseen unlikelihood that her owners do NOT notice her missing, and they haven't shown up by Saturday, the BFC is up for grabs! Or up for forklifting, as I don't think grabbing would be very effective. In the meantime, the shelter is going to speak to a veterinarian about putting the BFC on a diet. According to Deborah Wright, a volunteer at the animal shelter and another master of the obvious, "Chunk's diet consists of dry and wet cat food." Uh-huh. As opposed to what else?! NO kidding! Geez. In other news, the sun? Still hot. Water? Still wet. Back to you.
And although the BFC is huge, she's not the fattest cat on record. No, those folks over at Guinness who used to keep track of animal oddities say that the largest tabby on record, who lived in Australia and died during the 1980s, weighed 46 pounds, 15 ounces. Guinness does not keep track of animal world records any more out of fears that people would intentionally be doing things to their animals in order to get a world record. (That sort of logic leads me to the natural conclusion that someone was caught doing something just like that. Probably feeding Fido a big tub of lard three times a day with steroid injections in between.) So the BFC can get to be as B of an FC as she wants, there won't be any world records waiting for her at the end of that meal. Or something like that. But here's where things start to get a little weird.
Now, if you were a BFC and you had to wait around for days for your owners to show up and cart you off back home, you'd need a way to kill some time, right? Given as how the shelter workers seem intent on putting the BFC on a diet, it's not like she can spend her days constantly eating (which would seem to be how she must have been spending her days, and probably a few nights, before arriving at the shelter). So the BFC needs a new gig to keep her busy until then. So, tomorrow, she'll fill that gap by going on Regis and Kelly and then Friday she'll hit the set of Good Morning America and then the Today show. Wait. What?
Correct. The BFC is making the rounds on the morning talk shows. Can the BFC talk as well as eat?! I don't think so! Whose freaking idea was this?! And what if the BFC's owners show up to claim her. "I'm sorry folks. The BFC is caramelizing a creme brulee with Rachel Ray on "Ellen". Can you come back later? Oh, but not too soon. She's having dinner with Oprah and Gayle." We are a sad and all too easily entertained society. :::sigh:::
Although the shelter workers are the masters of the obvious and have stated their theories on how the BFC came to be "lost", they don't understand how it could happen at all. Professed the same Deborah Wright, "I'm about to put a leash on her and walk her. She could pass for a dog! I mean, how do you lose a 44-pound cat?" And I agree with that statement, but I think there's a fairly simple explanation for what happened.
The BFC ate her owners. Hopefully, the shelter workers and whoever books cats on talk shows are next.
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