My name is Angie and I’m a Scrabble junkie. I play the board version of the classic word game as well as many online forms. In fact, I recently initiated a weekly Scrabble night in my apartment building. I get it where I can, friends.
Cosmo and I often look for things to do together, and the jingle balls and feather wands get old, so I suggested he and I play a round of my favorite game. We’d played cards and Life in the past, so I thought he’d be up for it. He reluctantly agreed. I guess I shouldn’t expect a napping cat to feel excited about anything that’s not food-related.
I’m a pretty good Scrabble player. I say that not to brag or anything — I just believe if you do anything often enough, your skills improve. Even though I felt confident, I knew Cosmo usually has a few tricks up his sleeve; he constantly surprises me. This time was no different. We drew our letters, and just like that, he threw down a bingo. Then he smugly settled back into his bed. His word of choice was “RODENTS.”
Well played, sir.
I looked down at my own rack of letters and sighed. I seemed to be afflicted with what I call “irritable vowel syndrome.” We’d just started the game, and I was already on the fast track to losing.
What could I do? I built the word “DOE,” and left it at that. Really, there weren’t too many other options. They were all going to be sad little words. Cosmo was disgusted at my effort and rued the moment he awoke from his slumber to challenge me in a game he’d obviously win.
What the heck? The pompous pussycat responded with another bingo! How did he do it? I mean, seriously! Who gets two bingos in a row? I suppose he’s all too familiar with the word “SWEATERS” — he hijacks enough of mine. He’d officially grown tired of me and the game, and I couldn’t blame him.
Then, on top of kicking my butt a little further down Scrabble Street, he had the chutzpah to peek at my letters! I was already handing over the entire game to him, so I had no idea why he felt the need to cheat. Not cool, Cosmo.
My disastrous rack of vowels left me few choices, so I played a word that succinctly summed up my Scrabble situation: “WOE.” It would take a miracle from the Board Game Fairy to save me. Spoiler alert: The fairy did not pay a visit.
I don’t know why I was the least bit surprised when Cosmo threw another bingo punch right to my gut. And the word he played? “HUNGRIER.” Of course he did.
At that point, I was ready to quit. Did I really have a chance at winning this game? No way. Only a few moves in, and he was beating me by nearly 200 points. Surrender!
As a final move in the Scrabble game that really never was a game, Cosmo plopped his furry butt inside the top of the game box, which was probably all he ever wanted to do in the first place.
Not all of us can be adorable, Scrabble geniuses, and also fit inside a cardboard lid. That’s what you call a triple threat. At least that’s what Cosmo says … and who am I to refute what I know was true? I was officially schooled.
Would your cat beat you at Scrabble? Tell us in the comments!
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About the Author: Angie Bailey is an eternal optimist with an adoration of all things silly. Loves pre-adolescent boy humor, puns, making up parody songs, thinking about cats doing people things and The Smiths. Writes Catladyland, a cat humor blog, Texts from Mittens (originated right here on Catster) and authored whiskerslist: the kitty classifieds, a silly book about cats wheeling and dealing online. Partner in a production company and writes and acts in comedy web series that features sketches and mockumentaries. Mother to two humans and three cats, all of which want her to make them food.