One Claw Too Many

Posted on 09. Feb, 2007 by Jasper Sanchez in Conquests

In the vicious fight for survival that is the cougar hunt, some stalwart souls have been lucky enough to live to tell the tale – and bring back trophies strung around their necks as proof.

Unlike, say, a marlin or a great white, photographs rarely do the exploit justice. Size is only…tangentially important. The best trophies capture some ineffable quality about the unique qualities of the cougar at hand: her sleek, luxurious coat (still bright after all those years), her cunning, her rapaciousness, her playfulness. There are many cougars in the world and each has a story to tell – a story you can then later tell to your friends as you slice into a steaming marlin steak whilst quaffing fine tawny port.

I recall one such story: a friend, A., worked at a prestigious law firm in lower Manhattan. This firm was the known hunting ground of a certain cougar, C., who was reputed to have consecrated the boardroom table with her kills. Needless to say, as a fresh summer associate, A. quickly became the object of C.’s watchful eye. But A. was no amateur – indeed, I learned much about the hunt from him during our safaris in Cambridge. He had an instinct for anticipating the pounce and turning it to his advantage. Even as C. kept him close with filing tasks, A. was planning his attack. I witnessed some of their wary circling at a routine Friday cocktail hour.

C: I really appreciated you counting those thousands of pages for me…to make sure they were all there.

A: Sure – it was no problem. I love counting pages. I would count them for free, only no one will let me.

C: Haha, you are so funny, A.

This went on for a while, so I helped myself to another scotch whilst making friends with Jorge the bartender.

Me: Jorge – don’t you just love the weekly firm cocktail hour?

Jorge: Man – that cougar is dying to sink her claws into your friend.

Indeed, with a perceptiveness honed from working years of cocktail parties, Jorge had hit the mark. But I wondered – would A. be able to make off with any of those claws?

I found out a few weeks later that A. had successfully bagged C. When I asked for proof, he produced a compact disc of unbelievable trite music that C. – before becoming a paralegal – had ’somehow’ convinced some producer to record. Whilst I will leave a detailed discussion of the lyrics for another time, suffice it to say that they rhymed “I’m so bad” with “I’m so glad.” I congratulated A. on his successful hunt. He told me he contemplated making off with even more claws, perhaps trying to take some pictures of the two of them in the firm boardroom. I quickly warned him off such endeavors and reminded him that, though occasionally projecting a rough exterior, cougars were soft, sweet and sensitive creatures; there are few things more detrimental to the hunt than making off with a poor cougar’s dignity in the form of pictures you are going to show your friends and, maybe, post on the internet for money.

Gentlemen: that would be one claw too many.

If you have any claws strung around your neck that are particularly memorable, enlighten us in the comments.

Tags: alcohol, bar, hunt, marlin, story