Written by Drew Mashburn | Illustrations by Jules Weissman

Chester was near the top of one of my favorite cats, if not right at the top. He was black & white and slightly on the chubby side. Dude had TONS of personality!

Chester, my wife, and I lived in a Meiners Oaks duplex from about 1973 to 1974. Chester was an indoor/outdoor cat and quite happy to be a Meiners Oakie. But, I gave up my Termite Inspector/Fumigator position to take on a Park Ranger job with the Ventura County Parks Department.

On August 24, 1974, we moved into the Park Ranger residence at Matilija Lake Park. Of course, we let Chester run around outside to get acquainted with his new stomping grounds. That is, until that evening when Matilija Canyon resident John Militello stopped by to introduce himself and welcome us to The Canyon. John spotted Chester outside. He informed us that cats, dogs, and other domestic creatures don't last long outside in this neck-of-the-woods due to bobcats, mountain lions, raccoons, etc., that find them to be easy-pickins and delicacies. Chester became a strictly indoor cat at that moment, much to his dismay.

The Park Ranger Residence was located on the up-canyon perimeter of Campground No. 2. Just for info, there were two campgrounds. Guess the name of the other one?

Among other indoor activities, Chester loved it when I placed him inside the tall, clear glass pickle jar in which we kept our matchbook collection. He'd sit in the jar for hours just gazing about the living room. I'm sure it distorted Chester's view and gave him an altered perception of reality which was a cheap thrill for him.

Another thing that got Chester's jollies off was for me to get out a large paper grocery bag. He'd crawl into it and play. The Park Ranger Residence had linoleum tile floors. I'd grab the top of the bag with Chester inside, then sling it across the slippery floor. The harder I slung it, and the further Chester slid, the better he'd like it. He'd stay down inside the bag at the end of each slide. If I didn't immediately pick up the bag, he'd poke out his head and give me that look that said, "C'mon! I want more!!!"

But Chester was a door-charger. He'd sneak outside anytime he had the chance. Of course, we'd notice he wasn't around. I'd go out, find him exploring, then return him to safety at his reluctance.

One evening, we heard the unmistakable yipping of a coyote not far outside our home. It kept going on and on. We wondered what was causing the coyote not to let up. That is until we looked around, and Chester was nowhere to be found. I flipped on the outside light, then went out to find Chester not far outside, looking at a hungry coyote that was only about 20 feet away from him. I yelled at the coyote, and it scampered off into the dark. I grabbed T-bone-looking Chester, then hauled his chubby butt back inside while scolding him.

The next morning, I gathered a few good throwing rocks, then placed them near the door against the outside wall. I had ammunition should this type of incident ever again occur.

Well.........you guessed it! A few nights passed when, again, we heard a coyote yipping & yapping close to our home. Out I went to check to see if Chester was outside. Of course, that coyote bait had escaped again. There he was, standing, looking at a coyote (probably the same one from a few nights earlier) that was only about 10 feet away and moving slowly towards him and about to strike!

I yelled, but the coyote kept approaching. I grabbed a handful of the rocks I had stacked, then ran at the munching machine while hucking rocks at it. Off it jogged into the campground with me hot on its tail! It kept looking over its shoulder and me and giving me a look like, "Hey, you spoiled my dinner, Mr. Park Ranger!"

All of a sudden, the light bulb came on. I abruptly stopped. I realized I was in the middle of the campground while barefoot and only wearing Fruit-of-the-Loom bun-huggers. I looked around in embarrassment and thought something like, "Oh, man! How am I going to explain this to my campers?!!??" But, lucky for me, no campers were outside of their tents and/or camping trailers. I limped with my tender footsies back to the house as quickly as I could limp.

My wife had retrieved Chester. I don't know why I liked that dang cat so much.

Rest easy...the coyotes never got Chester.

Sadly all photos of Chester were claimed by the flood of February 1978