Groundhog wants out? Let's try a Maine Coon Cat

The folks in downtown Gobbler's Knob got deep trouble brewing.

The national group PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) suggested this past week that the annual groundhog festival held in Pennsylvania takes a torturous toll on the beloved Punxsutawney Phil, the official groundhog of that hamlet. Although the creature spends its days as a living exhibit at the local library, apparently this annual outing is akin to water-boarding or listening to pop music.
Additionally, PETA claims that the beloved groundhog is denied the natural act of going into winter hibernation. Being a natural winter hibernator myself, I can attest that leading a life denied the ability to sit on the couch eating Cheese-its and watching bad movies is surely punishment. Let's face the fact that this animal only has to work one day a year, for a few minutes. Doesn't sound like too taxing a gig, kind of similar to writing op-ed columns.
PETA also state that this annual festivus of silliness puts further stress on Phil the groundhog, stating that this spectacle is cruel. "Add to that the displeasure of large, screaming crowds, flashing lights of cameras, and human handling" seems far too much for any overfed burrow dwelling rodent to endure. Frankly, given the stress and depression, I'm completely shocked that Phil hasn't flung himself off a freeway overpass or co-hosted "The View" by now.
PETA is suggesting than an animatronic "robot" Phil be built, and used for this annual festival. Given that there are few activists out there hammering on doors for robot rights (yet), this idea might have some merit. At least they wouldn't have to feed it, and Old Groundhog could be freed to the wild, where he would eventually be hit by a passing truck while trying to wander across the interstate.
That got Old Captain Obvious to thinking about this whole animal cruelty issue. In the indeterminate period of time between this Groundhog Day and the next one on the calendar, I've come up with a novel solution that will put the entire matter of animal cruelty to bed for good. Let's loan them a Maine Coon Cat.
The editor, over on the other side of the page, is fond of pointing out the faults of having large cats as pets. A dog that weighs a hundred pounds is a manageable pet, but a cat that weighs a hundred pounds has already killed you and eaten you, and is anxiously waiting for the medical crews to arrive so it can get fresh meal. A Maine Coon Cat doesn't grow quite that large, but most of the ones I've seen are around the 20-pound range. That is a big enough "loaner" to decide the matter once and for all
Ask any veterinarian, and they will tell you flat out: There is no way any cat is going to put up with this.
Picture an ordinary couch-lump of Maine cat, suddenly thrust into a cage in the early morning hours and forced to wait in the dark. Then, a light above suddenly shines as a door in the hollowed out tree is suddenly opened. Unless the cage is made out of reinforced titanium, I already spot a potential problem here.
Then, a weird old bearded dude suddenly reaches into the cage/tree and grabs the cat by the scruff of the neck, and holds it high above his head for the world to see. Then, in a moment of cuteness for the cameras, the animal is placed right next to his face, where he pretends to whisper and listen to the animal. Cue the ominous music, I think the theme from "Jaws" would be appropriate here.
Any cat owner will tell you, at this point, unless this particular breed of Maine Cat is sedated close to the point of death, there is trouble brewing. The weird dude in question will shortly resemble the woman whose face was eaten by a monkey a year or so back. If the town father survives this ordeal, he'll surely end up on Oprah, or one of the other weekday gas-bag shows.
Maybe the former groundhog star invites him to "The View."
All in all, the substitution of a cat might not be entirely fair. The groundhog is supposed to fear his shadow, and retreat into the hole, predicting six more weeks of winter. We all know that the Maine Coon Cat is a creature that fears no other animal on this planet, and would more likely shred its own shadow.

(Bob Higgins is a regular contributor to The Portland Daily Sun.)