Cranky Cat is sick to death of those who urge everybody to reduce their carbon footprints. Crybabies. In his measured opinion, a carbon footprint is about as likely to exist as a plaster cast of Bigfoot. It’s a totally made-up term meant to guilt-trip us into believing that climate change is for real. But in the interest of the next generation of cats, and to pump up his image with a certain lady friend, Cranky Cat must set an example.
Each summer is getting hotter than the last—even here in the Pacific Northwest. This area is known for wet miserable rainy winters, overcast rainy falls and gully-washer depressing rainy springs. But summer, it’s getting to be a rain-free scorcher.
Records are breaking and the kvetching is terrible. The most popular summer tweet is, “It’s too darned hot.” In big cities, people’s tempers heat up along with the temps. Super-hotness causes perfectly normal folks to chase ice cream trucks, dance around fire hydrants and occasionally sneak into movie theaters—all before breakfast. Everybody’s desperate to cool down while the giant debate over climate change rages on. And wouldn’t you know it? All the stuff we do to beat the heat takes carbon.
Cranky Cat feels duty-bound to do his part to reduce his carbon pawprint. He’s going to start this summer by shedding more. Now you probably think that Cranky Cat is already at capacity for depositing his fur on every surface imaginable. But he’s got a few avant garde ideas. If he runs out of available white hairs to deposit onto Miss Crankypants’ black pants and jackets, he’ll have to go rogue.
Cranky Cat’s answer to global warming? Join a nudist colony.
Some are willing to stand by while the earth turns into a giant barbecue, but Cranky Cat demands action. “If we can’t keep summer from frying us alive, we ought to quit trying.” He smirks. “I’m joining the Cool Cats Colony. Fur optional.” The same cat who whines if he doesn’t get to sleep on the heating pad in January now boasts that he’s willing to strut around buck naked in front of who knows how many cats of the nudist persuasion. “Hey,” he points out. “Adam and Eve didn’t wear clothes.”
Miss Crankypants is skeptical. “I doubt seriously you could shed enough to be considered unclothed. Do you have a date with the electric clippers?”
You can practically see the wheels turning in Cranky’s tiny little hamster wheel of a mind. “Not exactly,” he says. “But I’m stepping up my shedding schedule.”
Miss Crankypants can’t refute that one. At his present rate by September her house will be knee-deep in cat hair. She could spin the fur into yarn and start a business. “I could market Cranky Cat-hair Sweaters.”
Cranky Cat howls with laughter. “As if, Stupid Human. It’s global warming, remember? In five years even polar bears won’t need to stay warm.” He parades in front of the mirror, stopping to arch and hiss at some other cat that suddenly confronts him. Some other cat that looks just like him. “This is my territory, Jack! Get off my lawn,” he spits. The “other” cat slinks away, leaving the triumphant Cranky Cat to lick his paw. “See? Reducing your pawprint is easy if you know what you’re doing.”
Miss Crankypants shrugs. Curious, she asks Cranky Cat how he located a colony of nudist felines.
“There’s this Egyptian Hairless I know,” he admits.
“So you’re saying that joining a nude cat camp the only way to be environmentally responsible?”
“A principal way, yes. You could say I’m a cattist.” His eyes widen as he passes in front of the mirror again.
“You do know that’s only your reflection, right?” Miss CP is barely able to stifle her laughter. “And not some dude who wants to steal the Egyptian?”
“Rowr, pfft!” Cranky Cat dispatches the interloper with a single swipe. “Of course I know it’s me. There’s not another tom this handsome anywhere.”
“Uh, wait. You’re not a tom anymore. Technically, you’re an ‘it.’”
“Stop! The Egyptian will hear you! I told her I’m a late bloomer.” Now excuse me while I do my bit to reduce my pawprint and save the planet.”
If we need him he’ll be hiding in his favorite shady spot: under the bed, wearing exactly nothing. Now that’s one cool cat.