The Kentucky Wildcat is a pussy

OK, I want to just state right off the bat that I am basically an easygoing kind of bird. Go along and get along is my motto. Ask anybody and they will tell you I am totally chill and always willing to greet everyone with a friendly chirp and a spare centipede if I have one.

And I would also like everyone to know it is a popular misconception that birds and cats are natural enemies. I know a lot of birds and cats that get along just fine. In fact, I have a close cat friend, and we even made out once on spring break in Panama City, but these days we are strictly platonic. And another popular misconception is that when birds and cats do get into scuffles it’s always the cat that dominates. Oh, sure, we’re all familiar with the image of a cat capturing an unsuspecting bird and carrying the poor, half dead thing across the lawn in its teeth, while the struggling bird occasionally flaps a broken wing, hoping to get in a good swat before going on to that great worm farm in the sky.

But if you don’t think birds can put a beat-down on cats, you don’t know my friend Spike. That dude is one badass blue jay. He attacks neighborhood cats all the time. Just sits on a limb and waits for an unsuspecting cat to start scratching up a poop spot and Wham! He swoops down and literally scares the crap out of the cat. He then does this hilarious taunting thing where he chases the scat-furred cat out of the yard, flying back and forth going, “Ooo, ya burnt!”

Come to think of it, Spike is kind of a dick. But my point is, there are a lot of perfectly delightful cats. And more to the point, the Kentucky Wildcat is a pussy. There. I said it.

Not to burst your bubble but, even though we’re college mascots, neither one of us is all that crazy about men’s basketball. The Wildcat’s really into baseball and I’m more of a lacrosse kinda bird. We love our basketball teams – don’t get me wrong – but we’re just not all that into the game. It’s too corrupt and it really exploits the players.

And frankly it’s kind of boring. It’s always the same thing year after year – tall guy dunks ball, coach yells, fans have cardiac arrest – yadda yadda. If you really want to be entertained by the game of basketball, watch the women’s teams. But that’s just my humble O. To be completely honest, I am trying to evolve past spectator athletics altogether in pursuit of pastimes that are more sustainable to the soul, such as quantum mechanics or Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I’m also building an addition onto my nest.

But back to my main point, which is that the Kentucky Wildcat is a pussy. You should tickle his belly sometime and listen to him purr. It’s adorable. Oh, he’s plenty fierce and totally buff. He can crush a car door between his quads. I’ve seen him do it. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a soft spot.

Look, I’m not insecure about being a Cardinal. I have plenty of fans. People love it when I flash my dramatic red body and sing my fight song in the spring, especially after a hard winter. So I have no ax to grind and I’m not jealous.

OK, maybe I’m a little jealous. It hasn’t been easy for the past several years watching people go batshit crazy every time some kitten walks across piano keys on YouTube. Cats have been domesticated for five thousand years and basically spend all their time sleeping but post a Vine of one yawning and you’ll have 50 likes before you can put down your phone.

So, yeah, it must be nice to get that kind of unconditional love. It’s like all those cat lovers don’t have anything else to do. Who knows? Maybe they’re just not very bright. A lot of them went to UK, after all. I kid! I kid! It’s totally possible to be stupid without going to UK.

But that’s no reason to take it out on the Wildcat. If you knew the Wildcat like I know the Wildcat you’d know just what a spectacular pussycat he is. And I don’t know about you but I loves me some pussy. •

This article appears in April 1, 2015.