This is Chester. He’s decided to watch the ice hockey with us.
It’s hockey night in Canada, and the Bruins are playing the Maple Leafs, our team. Chester seems unimpressed.
After several minutes he says, it’s a lot of going back and forth with not much happening, and, where’s the ball?
This is ice hockey not football on ice, I tell him. It’s called a puck and it’s a disk, and you hit it with a hockey stick.
I can see this is going to be a long difficult night.
After a few minutes, the Bruins scored and the horn sounds. It nearly scares him out of his skin.
What just happened.
Then your team is not very good are they, letting the other team score. Wouldn’t it be better if they all stood in a line across the front of the goal?
Then nothing would happen.
At least the other team wouldn’t score.
I shake my head. I don’t think cats quite understand the nuances of the game.
Another few minutes Chester shakes his head and walks off muttering, let me know when the mouse catching championship is on.