THE BLOG

Finding the Good in a Horrible Cat

03/19/2014 10:12 am ET | Updated May 19, 2014

Call me crazy but I wish to adopt Lux.

I'm referring to the 22-pound Himalayan cat who recently made headlines by angrily charging his Oregon owners, forcing Lee Palmer, his girlfriend, his 7-month-old son and their dog (yes, the dog) to take refuge in a bedroom, call 911 and request law enforcement deal with the temperamental Tom.

The call was so unusual that the 911 operator briefly placed Palmer on hold to confer with her supervisor, something I hope never happens to me should I need emergency assistance.

All operators are assisting other victims but your call is very important to us. Please continue applying pressure to your open wound and someone will be with you momentarily.

Jokes aside, I feel for Palmer; the minute he picked up the phone, his standing among males dropped precipitously.

Hey Lee, did you watch that Ultimate Fighting match last night? I'll bet it wasn't nearly as violent as that time you battled your kitty (SNICKER, SNICKER).

The reason I'm so interested in Lux is he appears to have an actual personality, something I didn't think cats possessed. Furthermore, he seems intelligent; he had the brains to block Palmer's means of escape by situating himself outside the bedroom door and daring his owner to open it. With Lux, I could abandon my pricey home security system, replacing it with a simple sign: BEWARE OF CAT.

For those who feel cats are smart creatures, allow me to introduce you to the three I owned at various stages of my youth. We wrongly assumed Chester, a long-haired Persian, was smart enough to navigate the great outdoors as opposed to living life inside the house. Chester embraced his freedom by one night crawling underneath my father's car, somehow climbing inside its engine block and falling asleep. Okay, that does require some smarts. In the dumbest of ways.

Chester's slumber was abruptly disturbed the following morning when my father, never one to check under the hood for cats, started the car and headed to the office. Chester limped home the following day, a bloody gash in his side and another on his head. Cause of injuries? "Most likely a fan blade," the vet said.

That incident probably cost Chester seven of his nine lives. After his death we acquired Pepsi, a cat so stupid that a law should be enacted forbidding anything to be named after beverages. If you ever meet a physician named Dr. Pepper, run. Or demand a second opinion.

Barely a year old, Pepsi met his fate in broad daylight, charging into the street for no reason other than to meow at an approaching vehicle.

We'd learned our lesson when we adopted Cinders, our first indoor-only cat. Cinders lived a long healthy life, made longer by hiding for most of it. Calling him by name was futile; an empty food dish and a full litter box were the only proof of his existence.

Which brings me back to Lux a cat with, according to Palmer, "a history of violence." I'm no cat expert but I feel that aggression could easily be channeled toward positive tasks. Rather than declaw Lux, I'd teach him to open boxes with one swipe. I'd shed weight by antagonizing Lux into chasing me around the house, a far more entertaining form of exercise than running on a treadmill.

I'd record Lux's maniacal howl, heard clearly on the 911 tape, Auto-Tune it and insert it into Fox News broadcasts. A Lux response to every opinion spewed forth from Bill O'Reilly and Megyn Kelly would certainly go viral on YouTube. Fallon, Kimmel and Letterman would take notice, arguing for the right to interview Lux. The Learning Channel would make Lux the star of its new show, "When Kitties Go Bad." My kids' college funds would receive substantial boosts.

So Mr. Palmer, if you're reading this, please give me Lux. You can exit your bedroom without fear and I can turn Lux into the cat I know he can be.

Now, what to do about my dog?

Copyright © 2014 Greg Schwem distributed by Tribune Content Services, Inc.