Guest commentary: Why this cat, too, is considering transferring away from WSU

Editor’s note: This column was delivered anonymously by T-shirt cannon to the fourth floor of The Spokesman-Review Tower. At press time, we were still not able to verify its authorship.
No one wants to be the last cat standing.
That’s why, when star quarterback John Mateer and Coug-for-life coach Jake Dickert decided to jump ship this week and leave Washington State University for Oklahoma and Wake Forest, respectively, I knew who would be up next: the most recognizable Cougar of them all.
Me. The actual Cougar.
It’s the logical conclusion of conference realignment, the collapse of the Pac-12, the crass commercialization of college sports, and the complete surrender of tradition and loyalty to cold hard cash. Why couldn’t a mascot like me chase greener pastures? Or chase rodents and birds and small mammals through those pastures. Or chickens or marmots or squirrels or …
But look, I digress.
I know what you’re thinking: You can’t leave, Butch. You’ve been the WSU mascot for more than a century!

Technically, that is true. But for 60 years, the school used a caged live cougar, until 1978, when the sixth Butch the Cougar IRL (as the kids say) gave up the ghost and the students got tired of torturing live animals and voted for a costumed mascot. Namely, me.
And now, as LeBron James once said, maybe it’s time this cat took his talents elsewhere.
Schools should be lining up for a dancing, cartwheeling, body-surfing feline mascot like me. And I have to imagine they’ll offer me big pots of NIL money (short for name, image and litterbox).
My first thought was to try other Cougar universities.
So I briefly considered Brigham Young, but I know Cosmo the Cougar. I like him – even if he does look like a sad Ewok in a suede jacket. Also, I’m too old for a mission, which BYU would likely require.
Then there’s the University of Houston and that adorable mountain lion couple, Shasta and Sasha. But I’d hate to break them up (even though I surely could – hey, respect the rizz.) And the only reason Houston even has a cougar mascot is because a WSU football coach moved there and suggested it. No, that would feel like a step down.
College of Charleston, Azusa Pacific, Cal-State San Marcos – all Cougar colleges, and all beneath my current perch. Sure, I’d get more playing time at those schools, but that just means suiting up for every stinking softball game and cross country meet. No thanks.
And, hey, I don’t have to be a Cougar. I could transfer to any school with a big cat mascot. For instance, Penn State? What the hell is a Nittany Lion? For all we know, it’s a mountain lion that chases gophers across wheat fields.

And what about Wildcats? They’re all over the SEC, Big Ten, Big 12: Kentucky, Northwestern, Arizona. As anyone knows who has seen me after a few Trulys during Mom’s Weekend: I can be a wild cat.
And what about Tigers? Don’t you think I’d look sexy-sleek in a set of slimming stripes? Auburn, Clemson, LSU – I’d kill in the South! “Y’all ready for some football?” How hard would that be?
And I don’t even have to be a cat! There are plenty of obscure mascots that could theoretically be a big brown animal. I could go to Oklahoma with Mateer. No one knows what a Sooner is anyway. (To me it means, “I’d Sooner eat dirt than live in Oklahoma.”)
Or I could go to Wake Forest with coach Seriously-I-Love-it-Here-in-Pullman Dickert. The Demon Deacons? Who’s afraid of a cleft-chinned, giant-headed, stern religious figure in a top-hat and a bow tie? Actually, that is terrifying. Count me out.
Perhaps a college could just add me to their mascot stable. For instance, Stanford and it’s environmentally responsible Tree? How cool would it be for a lithe, gorgeous cougar to run out and treat their current mascot like a big scratching post? Oh, I know what you’re thinking: Does a Coug like me have the test scores to get into Stanford? Possibly not. I did barely pass the ACT years ago (and understandably misspelled it) but hey, there’s more to college than just grades (Amiright, Sigma Nu?)
The point is, like everything else in college sports: I’m open for business.
Unless you’re a dog school.
That’s where I draw my line in the sand. (And then cover my businesses in said sand.) Bulldogs, Huskies and, I don’t know, Pomeranians – it doesn’t matter, I can’t imagine going to a college and having to follow one of those stupid, slobbering, butt-sniffing mascots. No way.
In fact, you know what, maybe I’ll just stay home after all. Pullman is lovely this time of year, with a skiff of snow across the stubbly wheat fields and the festive glow of headlights stuck in downtown construction traffic.
And anyway, it seems like the position of Coug-for-Life is open once again. To be honest, I was probably made for that.