The Near Martyrdom of WALL•E Panchana

His crimes had finally caught up with him. After seven years of patrolling the intersection of Avenida Quito and Avenida Alsacio Northia, his reign of terror was set to end at 9am the following morning. With a bounty of $450 for sitting on a table repeatedly, his time had finally come. His name? WALL•E. But to us? Fatty.

At a whopping 52 centimeters in length, a BMI of 49.8, and the world’s longest whiskers, WALL•E came into our lives without warning. After days of Detective Gordon removing what she thought was a feral cat from his own home, WALL•E executed a master plan of deceit: lull us into a false sense of security, seduce us with his cuteness, and then lick his unmentionables on Claire’s bed once we were in it. So began our complicated saga of love, hate, and loss.

Despite being a native Galapagueño, WALL•E refuses to speak Spanish, and thinks only in French, rendering our efforts to reason with the cat useless. Detective Gordon, who speaks fluent Japanese, was unable to crack him. Even our dear colleague, Detective Schmucker*, who went to South Africa once, could not get him to speak a word of Afrikaans. I myself have years of experience as an au pair for a family from Hamburg, and we can say confidently that he responds very poorly to any mention of the German state. Still, we’ve spent months observing his abominable behavior, attempting each day to communicate with the bastard who haunted us with his shadow.

When confronted with his misdeeds and wrongdoings, WALL•E has shown his cowardice again and again. Even when offered the love he so clearly craves, he cannot endure it for long before revealing his true violent nature. Most notably, he likes to go for the dome. On the few occasions where I have not been wearing my signature law enforcement top hat, I’ve been brutally assaulted by the little fella. We can only begin to describe the horrors of surviving a WALL•E attack, and we can only hope that you’ll never experience it. Due to his small but rotund stature, he makes up for his vertical disadvantage through wit, deliberating over your most vulnerable body part before pouncing and embracing it with his claws and teeth – the few teeth he has left after losing nearly all of them in a brutal accident months prior.

Detective Gordon and I had just sat down to a late supper when we received the news: a warrant for WALL•E’s arrest and subsequent execution. Golly! With scratch marks on our hands and WALL•E in our hearts, we erupted into laughter, failing to comprehend the dark reality that had overtaken the Panchana household that fateful evening. Once we realized he truly was set for death the following morning, we began scheming to defend his right to live. Meanwhile, he shoved his face in the kitchen’s corner, repeatedly trying and failing to eat a single kernel of kibble. He finished his protest for his life by scratching at the new couch. We were reminded once more of how much we hate this cat. Still, we couldn’t help but cry. Sure, he was a bastard. But he was our bastard.

The following morning at 8:30am, after successfully rallying the troops, we stormed** the municipality and demanded*** to speak with the flora and fauna department. Claire and I began our case, joined moments later by Proctor Jain, and finally: Justice Molina. It was a battle for life itself. Tensions were high, voices were raised, and we were already fifteen minutes late to class. They told us that the laws are different in the Galapagos, due to the presence of endemic animals on the island, to which we said he is not a killer! They told us that if we owned a restaurant, we wouldn’t want a dirty cat attacking our customers, to which we said he is only violent to us! They told us that repeated complaints merit a high fine, to which we said he’s just a little guy! $450 for a little belovéd guy, for standing on the tables at Vulkan, a restaurant which regularly receives no patronage mind you. They told us that —

But their bureaucracy was interrupted by WALL•E’s biological mother, Rosita bursting through the door, tears in her eyes, and a government document in her hand. “Chicas!” She cried. After much deliberation, and a whole lot of protesting, the municipality had agreed to lower the fine from $450 to $165, with a compromise to temporarily imprison the fella inside his domicile during the hours of the “restaurant”. WALL•E lives!

Against all odds, that lazy little thing lives. He sits on the couch all day now, doing nothing. He still attacks us. He still loves us. And in all honesty, Detective Gordon and I love him lots too. If you’re in San Cristóbal and you happen to walk through his turf, keep a look out for the black and white cat with a criminal record. Send him our love.

Signing off,
Detective Gordon and Detective Jiménez

*Please respect her privacy in her period of mourning, as she recently lost her two-timing second wife to a margarita-related incident, and now only drinks gin and tonics. Many.
**Walked inside of.
***Politely asked.