Cat receives abysmal review

In a continuation of the story from last week, Chaz continues to irritate


Chaz sits in the window pondering the next way to be a nuisance (Andy Killebrew / Old Gold & Black)

Andy Killebrew, Assistant Life Editor

In order to gain more objectivity regarding my least favorite roommate, Chaz the Cat, I decided to write a formal review of him and his mannerisms. I frequently find myself mired in deep emotional muck when dealing with him around the townhouse and thought it would be beneficial to take a more detached look at my furry friend.

When it comes to aesthetics, Chaz doesn’t leave much to be desired. He has all the majesty of a lion prancing through the savanna in search of prey if the plain were a laminate floor and the gazelles were cans of Friskies wet food. He’s adorned with beautiful white stripes on his voluptuous orange coat and has a magnificent two-toned tail that he brandishes behind him while making his rounds. His face is quite charming, featuring long, white whiskers, prominent, triangular ears, green eyes with oval pupils and a petite, pink nose. He has the paw size of a German Shepherd and the teeth of a bobcat, which, while giving some concern for his eventual size and ferocity, combine to make him quite the formidable creature.

Though he is quite the stunner, Chaz leaves plenty to be desired in terms of house training. Miraculously, he seems to have mastered countertops and tables: he rarely leaps on top, instead preferring the solidity of the ground. However, this does nothing to diminish his outsized presence. Chaz has no respect for class times or quiet hours, making himself known during sleep and study with squawks and scratches on the door. He’s mediocre at best cleaning up his litter box; the stench emanating from Chaz’s bathroom is often overwhelming. He also has no respect for personal space, taking any opportunity to stake out under beds or slurp from toilets. 

Chaz really loses ground in his ability to accept discipline and learn from his mistakes. If he spoke English (which I’ve tried to teach him on numerous occasions), he might be more receptive to my attempts at education. Instead, I’m normally greeted with glassy eyes and a blank stare. Spray bottles have already proved ineffective; Chaz is known to eat multiple squirts to the face with absolute resolve. I refuse to resort to physical measures or withholding food (though he could stand to miss a meal or two), so his behavior is unfortunately allowed to go unchecked. 

Petsmart advertised Chaz as having an “A++” in affection, but I have yet to see him exhibit habits that deserve such high marks. If I manage to catch him while sleepy or sedated by catnip, I can sneak in marginal amounts of cuddles. All too frequently, my probing fingers are greeted with fangs despite the love I attempt to lavish on Chaz. Often, when swaddled in my adoring arms, Chaz will writhe around to nip at my face. He’s demonstrated a capability for fondness when circling through my legs in the morning, but this friendliness disappears the second I refill his food bowl (cunning lad). 

While Chaz is impressive in passive departments, his demeanor prevents him from being the perfect creature. For improvement, I would suggest that he gain literacy and adjust his attitude problems. I’ll consider readjusting his score should he make behavioral strides in the future, but for now I award Chaz a 4.5/10.