Article / Danielle Calvert

An Interview with F. Cats Furtzgerald

This weekend, 2013 meets the roaring 20’s in Baz Luhrmann’s THE GREAT GATSBY. But just yesterday in the alley behind the ArcLight Hollywood, crouched in a cold steel garbage can, I met with the author of the book that spurred the book that spurred the movie.

Celebrated cat and author, F. Cats Furtzgerald

Celebrated cat and author, F. Cats Furtzgerald

You read that correctly. Book inspiring book inspiring movie. Yes, we all know that this weekend’s Hollywood blockbuster is based on the novel The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald–but THAT novel was based on the cat classic: The Great Catsby by F. Cats Furtzgerald.

You read that correctly. He is a cat who writes books for cats. F. Cats Furtzgerald is a highly regarded tabby who wrote his most celebrated novel, The Great Catsby, with a bone from a discarded fish and the poop from his own kitty butt.

Yes, you also read THAT correctly. He wrote the novel with feline feces. And why do you doubt your reading ability so much? Seriously. You are reading a blog. Only people that could read would know how to access it. You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

The following is my interview with F. Cats Furtzgerald :

Danielle Calvert: Thanks so much for giving me a couple minutes of your time, Mr. Furtzgerald.

F. Cats Furtzgerald: Meow meow… meow meow.

DC: Sure, I’ll call you F. Cats if that’s what you prefer. Although I thought only dogs called you that! (I laugh at my own joke)

FCF: (hiss)

DC: It was a tasteless joke. My apologies.

F. Cats Furtzgerald licks his paws for about a minute without looking at me. He finally returns my gaze.

DC: So what inspired you to write The Great Catsby?

FCF: Meow, meow. Meow meow meow.

DC: Interesting. And you agree that the hedonism of the 20’s is still an issue–or maybe more of an issue–today?

FCF: Meow.

DC: Oh absolutely. I’m not arguing with you there.

FCF: Meo–aaaaaak! KAAAAAAK!

At this point, F. Cats Furtzgerald begins to cough up a very large hairball. He spits it on my lap and proceeds to knead my knee with his paws.

DC: That kind of hurts.

FCF: Meow!

DC: Well I don’t want to do this interview either if you’re going to be so ornery!

F. Cats Furtzgerald swipes my cheek with his claws, and it draws blood.

DC: Ouch! That actually really hurt!

F. Cats Furtzgerald jumps atop a nearby dumpster and disappears. I wait for a solid 30 minutes, motionless and hoping F. Cats will emerge again.

Then the midnight screening of THE GREAT GATSBY lets out and I am almost trampled to death as scores of young adults and teens loudly exit the ArcLight movie theater. I attempt to address the crowd.

DC: Hi, sorry, could you please avoid stepping on my so that I can get up? I was just talking to a cat and my knees are stiff from staying put for so long.

One of the young men looks past me but yells right in my ear.

Rude Young Man: I filled my Nalgene with straight rum and they didn’t even check when they took my ticket!

DC: Good for you… (but said in a sarcastic way)

I get up and walk to my car, shaking my head.

DC: (to myself as no one is around or interested in listening) Kids these days.

And at that moment I could have sworn I heard F. Cats Furtzgerald purr in agreement.

Or it might have the Rude Young Man vomiting down the street after drinking 32 oz of rum.

For more great interviews with animals, follow Danielle on twitter @trexprincess

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