Chipper Jones is the biggest finest cat in all of Corrales. He’s so fine and full of pluck you’d never know he came all the way from Georgia, although the sea still claps its hands at the memory of him. He was born behind a dumpster outside of a Walmart in Climax, Georgia, raised on milkshakes and grasshopper mint treats. He emigrated from Georgia to Utah, waving his long tail farewell at the Walmart greeters in their blue smocks, lightly stained with grape jelly and insect repellent. He messed with his share of silky-haired suburban dogs in Utah, leaving footprints on every white vehicle in his neighborhood and some abutting. Eventually, everyone knew, he was going to meet his come-uppance by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A random phone call, a sinister note, an intruder with a flashlight and a net; a fine and free cat like Chipper Jones was a thorn in the side of certain people in Orem who did not approve of his wicked ways.

Espadrille Guaraches was working without papers for animal control. She was willing to work for cash and short hours, which allowed her to make extra money pole dancing at the Fringe, a bar in Orem, Utah that catered to people who drafted legislation in airless rooms. Espadrille has been mentioned in Ripley’s Believe It Or Not several times, once in conjunction with a 72 oz. steak, but that was before Orem, before meeting and greeting, before Chipper Jones.

This was during the time of nickel beers and doing the hustle and the shuffle and the 3.2 dance festival, and even the most holiest, most devout of pole dancing women in Utah knew how to hold their Rolling Rock. Espadrille was no different. Then one day, one night after hours actually, she and Chipper Jones met, woman to cat, in the alley behind the Fringe, and so began a romance, of sorts. Chipper was captured by animal control; it is just as true to say that animal control was captured by him.


2 Responses to “Jonesin’”

  1. 1 Gail2fish October 7, 2010 at 9:22 am

    Very intruiging. Having met Mr. Jones, I can attest to his strange proclivities. I wonder, will you tell all?

  2. 2 Teresa October 9, 2010 at 5:26 am

    The Chip insisted that it’s all about him – I wrote this with him sitting next to me, saying “hey baby, hey baby” and so on. You know how he is.
    Clearly I need to continue the story, get him and Espadrille to New Mexico. I’ll give it some thought.

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