Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar (1967) Movie Script
# Hello, Charlie
# Lonesome Charlie
# Talkin' about Charlie
It's a natural fact
#That cat didn't know
how a cat should act
# He figured he was a human kind
# When all the time he'd been designed
To be a... cougar
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# He didn't dig that nature scene
Those grizzly bears were too darn mean
# He figured his rightful fittin'place
# Was kicking around
with the human race
# Lumberjacks, mostly
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# How come he was lonesome?
Well, that's the story we're here to tell
# So let's get started right from the top
When we come to the end...
# We'll stop
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# Charlie, Good-Time Charlie
Everybody's friend
This is Timberland, USA.
The Cascade Range
in the Pacific Northwest.
A great big chunk of wilderness
that's best known
for logging, lumberjacks
and mountain lions,
commonly called "cougar"
in these parts.
Now some folks say
a cougar is just about
the biggest mistake
Mother Nature ever made.
200 pounds of tooth, claw and trouble.
But this is a story about one cougar
that was different.
You see, right from the beginning,
he didn't know he was a cougar,
because he didn't have
a mother to tell him.
A hunter took her for bounty
three days ago,
and he'd been walking
the lonesome trail ever since.
Right about now, though, fate came up
with a prime prospect for a soft touch.
A lumber company forester
by the name of Jess Bradley.
Jess had come here today to mark
some selected trees for a logging crew.
Well, there was a kitten
in his own pocket of poverty,
and not far away,
one innocent, unsuspecting human.
Fate was about ready to move in
and make the connection.
Now, Jess not only had
a college degree in forestry,
he was pretty well schooled
by Mother Nature, too.
Well, hello there.
Where'd you come from?
Right away, he read the signs.
This was forest land, and a female cougar
likes to den in the rimrocks.
So the kitten must have wandered
down here on his own.
No mother cougar would let that happen,
not if she was alive to stop it.
You poor little fella.
Come on. Come on.
Come on. Huh?
I'm not gonna hurt you now.
Looks to me
like you could use a square meal.
So, there was only one thing
for a nature-loving man to do.
Of course, Jess wasn't
planning anything permanent.
He'd have to turn the cat loose,
sooner or later.
Meantime, though, it might be kind of fun
having a kitten around the house.
Well, the fun started that very night.
Come on.
That's it.
Whoops!
Sloppy eater, aren't you?
Being a bachelor, Jess didn't have
any experience in this line of work.
But with a little thinking,
he came up with a formula,
and it seemed to serve the purpose.
You got a hollow leg?
You're gonna have to get on to a schedule.
Shh.
Easy.
That's a boy.
There you go, now.
Jess named his new pet
Good-Time Charlie.
And he soon got downright fond
of that little cat.
The little cat got right down
to living up to that name.
One thing about Charlie,
he caught on quick.
Wasn't any trick to taking trout -
all you had to do is play it right.
Hey, Charlie...
Charlie! Hey, Charlie!
You come back here with that fish!
Right from the beginning,
Charlie had made an acquaintance
with all the neighborhood critters.
But lately, a young raccoon
seems small for a playmate.
And so did a fox cub.
The pine marten never did see Charlie
as a real close companion.
So, being a friendly,
outgoing sort of cougar,
Charlie decided to explore
the whole wide forest world.
See if couldn't find himself
a bigger and better playmate.
Wow!
What in creation were these?
One sure was bigger, all right.
But it just didn't have
that fun-loving look.
For Charlie, that made the other one
look a whole lot better.
Now if Bigger would stay put for a while,
and if Better would just keep on moving,
there ought to be plenty of room for
two youngsters to have a friendly frolic.
There never was a kitten, or a cub either,
that could pass up a chance
to bed down in a hollow log.
Only difference is how they go about it.
With a cat,
it's a matter of instant relaxation.
A bear likes to prepare.
Well, that took care
of the itching and twitching.
He was all ready for napping now.
Find a good, comfortable position.
That'd take a little doing.
In one way or another,
they got in about 39 winks,
but they'd never make it to 40.
Because right outside,
a rude awakening was on the way.
One mean male bachelor bear.
He set a lot of store by this log.
It was always well-stocked
with mully-grubs, beetles,
and other delicacies
dear to the stomach of a bear.
And he sure wouldn't take kindly
to the Beat Generation
making a pad out of his pantry.
To Old Grouch,
the current crop of youngsters
was just a lot of nuisance and noise.
As it turned out, the noise
was an emergency call for help.
Well, Mother was already
halfway there.
It started out as a pretty even match.
Of course, the cub
was cheering for Mom all the way.
Charlie couldn't even tell them apart.
They were both wearing black trunks.
When Old Grouch
tried to tag up for a time-out,
the cub figured it was safe to shimmy
down and get himself a closer view.
Mom was losing a little ground
when Junior lowered the boom.
Heading for home, one small cougar.
And one sore-headed old bachelor.
And one mother bear,
complete with cub.
The Carbon County Mill
was Jess Bradley's headquarters.
And by the time
Charlie was quarter-grown,
he had full run of the mill yard.
Charlie made friends everywhere,
but come lunch hour
he always headed for one special place:
That little caf.
It was a hot spot for handouts.
It was also home base for a cougar-hating
fox terrier named Chainsaw.
Whenever he saw that overgrown
house cat fixing to invade his territory,
Chainsaw would set a trap.
Today, he decided to sort of make out like
he was going somewhere to bury a bone.
Like always, Charlie fell for the trick.
He figured is was safe now
to move in and mooch a meal.
Charlie stopped just long enough
to check all possible hiding places -
except the right one.
Then he put in a call
to his personal friend, Potlatch.
Hey, be right there, Charlie.
Of course, Potlatch liked his dog,
but he had a lot of sympathy
for a born loser, too.
Chainsaw?
Chainsaw!
Wherever you are, you beat it!
Come on, inside.
Quick!
You've come to see me
to get a little snack, huh?
Well, come on.
I got something nice for you. Look.
Chainsaw figured
he had that cat cornered for sure.
All he needed now
was a kindly customer heading his way.
That would be Jess Bradley.
OK, Chainsaw.
Go on in.
Oh, no!
Catch him! Charlie, come back here!
Don't let him get on the shelf! Charlie!
Aw, my new kitchen!
- Corner him!
- He's heading for the door, Jess!
Hey, Tim, grab the cat!
He's your cat - you grab him.
Chainsaw!
Chainsaw, down! Chainsaw!
Potlatch, get your dog.
Stop that!
Chainsaw, when that cat grows up
you're gonna have a problem.
When he grows up?
What do you call him now?
Just a great big, overgrown kitten.
That's what he's always gonna be.
Aren't you, Good-Time Charlie, huh?
Aren't you fella?
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
In the nature of things,
Charlie did keep growing up.
But at heart, he was still one man's kitten.
Right now, Charlie was helping supervise
the finish of the winter logging activities.
Next would come a full-scale,
old-fashioned river drive.
The start of a river drive
is something worth going to see.
It's the biggest operation
of the whole year.
60 million feet of timber ready to ride
the river 120 miles through the wilderness.
It always begins in early spring,
when the river is high and rising.
Then one giant nudge at the key log,
and the river drive really gets rolling.
Now a big-scale river drive like this
swings into action
through several well-planned stages.
First to move out,
after the main body of logs,
is the number one crew of river men.
They'll make sure there aren't
any major centerjams or wing jams
or any other kind of hang-ups.
Last to leave would be the cook,
in a well-stocked floating kitchen
called the Little Wonigan.
Moving out now, the Big Wonigan.
For the next 10 or 15 days,
these seagoing shacks
would be living quarters
for the whole drive crew - about 40 men.
Well, the big push was over now
for Jess and Charlie.
They figured things would be
getting back to normal again.
Come on, Charlie.
Let's go home.
But old fickle fate had other ideas.
It seems Potlatch had brought the ton
of food it took the feed the river crew.
- Hiya, Jess!
- Hello, Potlatch.
He'd also brought 15 pounds of trouble.
- You got 'em all loaded, ready to go?
- Hey, Charlie!
You get that drive started OK?
Hey, window's open!
- Chainsaw, get back!
- Charlie, come back here!
Chainsaw! You leave that cat alone!
Charlie! Charlie!
Come back here!
Charlie!
Charlie!
Charlie, come back here!
Chainsaw, stop!
Hey, Potlatch, they're coming your way!
Head 'em off!
Hey, grab him!
Hey, that's enough of that.
Charlie had left one problem behind
only to head straight for another.
This cook was a new man. He'd never
even heard of Good-Time Charlie.
Well, he was about
to make his acquaintance.
Whoa!
- Cougar!
- Yeah, I know.
There's a cougar!
Charlie! Charlie!
Hold on, Charlie!
Oh, great.
Charlie had already
found himself a lifeboat.
But Jess just kept going down and down
with the ship.
Charlie!
Charlie!
Jess figured if he was gonna save
the Wonigan and his cougar and himself,
he'd better be dressed for the occasion.
There was white water ahead,
and plenty of it.
All Jess could do now was steer
a middle course, stay in the main stream
and hope somehow to salvage
that cougar from his one-log catamaran.
The current was doing about 15 knots,
and that can use up
an awful lot of river in a hurry.
Rescue wasn't getting one quarter-inch
closer as far as Charlie could see.
Then came along this chance
to get out of his own little jam
by getting onto a bigger one.
Now he'd just wait here for the boss
to drop by and pick him up.
Charlie!
Charlie! Charlie!
Charlie! Stay right there!
I'll be back for you!
It looked like Charlie
had sure missed the boat.
All he'd got was promises,
when what he really needed was help.
So being left to his own natural resources,
Charlie figured he'd just have
to launch out on his own.
That free-floating kitchen
was getting quite a bit behind schedule,
and now a search party
was on its way upriver.
Hey, there it is!
Hey, it's Jess Bradley.
- When did you take up cooking, Jess?
- And what did you do with our cook?
Never mind the questions, just help me
get this river shack under control.
Upstream, Charlie kept
right on logging travel time
and he was fast closing the gap.
Meanwhile, Jess was explaining
to the drive boss
how come his kitchen was minus a cook.
I'm sorry, Mac, but I had no choice.
The Wonigan was headed downriver
and the cook was hightailing up the bank.
Do you realize I have 40 men here to feed?
Mac, can we worry about the cook later?
I've gotta get Charlie.
Charlie?
He's marooned on a center jam
about 10 miles upriver. I need a boat.
Looks like a short 10 miles to me.
Hey, here he is!
Hey, hold on!
Hang on, Charlie!
Don't go away!
Charlie!
- Give me a boat. Come on, Mac.
- Uh-uh.
What do you mean? I gotta get Charlie.
I will be reasonable, though.
You get our supper, we'll get your cougar.
- Look, I'm no cook.
- No cook, no cougar.
- I'm a cook. Let's go get Charlie.
- We'll get Charlie.
You start peeling spuds.
- How about a little of that salad?
- You bet.
Mac, you drive a hard bargain.
Here you are, Ray.
You're doing all right, Jess.
Clean it up, Charlie.
Only one to a customer.
Say, we're gonna
have to hang on to this fella.
Good cook.
I think we should be able
to figure out a way.
- Coffee, Joe?
- Oh, no thanks, Jess. I've had plenty.
- Everything else OK, gentlemen?
- No complaints.
- Fine.
- Just like uptown.
OK, let's get me back upriver
and bring back your cook.
Not so fast, Jess.
I've been... I've been concerned about you.
Yeah?
You've been looking a little peaked lately.
We figure you need a little break
from your regular job.
Little change in scenery.
Something like...
a river cruise downstream.
No, sir. Uh-uh.
Now look, I've got a job
and you've got a cook.
And they're both waiting upstream,
so let's go.
But we're working downstream,
and about 40, 50 miles, when we hit
the road, our cook will be there.
And meantime?
Well, in the meantime,
you cook real well, just keep it up.
Come on, boys.
- You guys. Come on, fellas...
- Good night, Jess.
- Hey! Now, Mac, look...
- Breakfast at five o'clock.
Five o'cl...
Oh, boy!
In a river drive, the main body of logs
floats right on down to the mill.
But all kinds of drifters
get hung up and stranded.
Every last log has to be pried loose
and prodded along.
The very first day, Charlie moved in
and made out
like he was a born and bred river cat.
Whenever the jet boats ferried a crew
from one trouble spot to another,
Charlie was right on top of the action.
In no time at all, Charlie figured he was
the ramrod of this whole operation.
And anybody who seemed to be easing
up was likely to get a dressing down.
There were a few strangers in the crew,
and at first they didn't look kindly
on a cougar being part of the team.
But pretty soon, Good-Time Charlie
was everybody's friend.
One thing about Charlie,
he didn't expect the workmen
to do anything he wouldn't do himself.
He was always willing to get in there
and lend a helping paw.
If the fellas seemed to be making
a fairly clean sweep of things,
Charlie was ready to move on
to other responsibilities -
after he'd made sure
the boat was shipshape.
For the next few days, the river drive
moved along in good order.
As one section was cleaned out,
the Wonigans moved downstream
to a new base of operation.
Today, that meant taking the Big Wonigan
through a rough stretch of white water
called The Devil's Elbow.
Now the crew would spot
the Big Wonigan downstream,
then come back for the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Jess was using the slack time
for some extra sack time.
And Charlie was killing a little time
with a piece of twine.
Charlie knew he'd done something,
but there was no way he could undo
what he'd already undone.
Well, in a case like this,
there was only one thing left to do:
Find the best vantage points
and enjoy the passing show.
Holy smoke!
What's going on?
Oh, no!
Oh, crock it!
It wasn't very far downstream that the river
men had come up against a tangle of logs
that manpower alone couldn't unravel.
Dynamite was the only answer.
Of course, they couldn't know
they were lighting a wick
that was gonna bust up something
more than a logjam.
Charlie moved in right on time
for the countdown.
Because there was one thing now
that was plain for all to see:
Charlie's river carnival
was headed straight for a flash finish.
Go back!
Go back!
- Dynamite!
- Go back! Go back!
Dynamite!
She's gonna blow!
How come you're acting so guilty?
It wasn't your fault.
Or was it?
Charlie!
Jess!
Jess, are you hurt?
- Man, we thought you was a goner.
- We sure did. Are you all right?
Oh, I'm... I'm fine.
Just fine.
The long chain of circumstances
that started on the river drive
finally ended up back at the mill,
with Charlie on the short end.
You see, when the big boss
started adding lost man hours
to mangled groceries,
to busted-up Wonigans,
he decided to subtract one cougar.
And he ordered Jess
to keep a curb on that cat.
Charlie didn't like the new setup at all.
He had the growing feeling
that he was getting left out,
put upon and neglected.
What's more, he was just plain bored.
Then Charlie heard the sound
of folks having fun.
What Charlie heard
was a bunch of the boys a-whoopin' it up
with a noon-hour roll-eo.
Round and round she goes,
and where she stops nobody knows.
Well, here came the river cat that once
rode a log 21 miles through 25 rapids.
As soon as there was an opening,
he was gonna get in there
and really give that thing a whirl.
OK, who's next?
Come on, I want some competition.
How about you?
Come over. Hey, Mike, come on over.
Come on, Ed.
You're the guy I want to get on here.
Hey, now this is gonna be a ride!
Come on, Charlie.
You asked for it.
- I'll cover all bets.
- I'll take five of that.
Roll him under, Jimmy.
Charlie had the edge
with his four-wheel drive.
The only thing now that could
cut him out of first place was... Chainsaw.
Charlie was too shook up to catch up.
Cut it out, Chainsaw.
Don't shorten my odds.
His chances for victory
went right down the drain.
Thanks a lot, Charlie.
It was Chainsaw!
Somebody drown that dog!
No, you don't.
He won money for me.
OK, wise guy, next time you're gonna get
a shorter chain and a tighter collar.
All right, you guys,
this is a saw mill, not a side show.
Let's cut some lumber, huh?
I'm sorry, Cliff, I don't know how
he got loose. It won't happen again.
Maybe we better make sure
it doesn't, Jess.
OK. I'll keep him at home from now on.
Charlie's sure gonna miss
his friends around here.
- Well, his friends will miss Charlie, too.
- Yeah.
Come on, Charlie.
Let's get out of here.
And so the free-roaming days were over.
Even worse, Jess was in town
about eight nights a week now.
It seems a certain nurse just might be
the cure for his "bacheloritis".
So, Charlie was left
right in the middle of all this quiet,
with not one thing to do.
He was just about the lonesomest
cougar in all of Carbon County.
But this particular evening,
things took a turn for the better.
It happened right on
the stroke of moonrise.
There was music in the air.
What Charlie wanted
was to move in for a little closer harmony.
If he could just get himself unpacked
from this cougar crate.
There's no doubt that Charlie
was a mighty smart cat.
But he did have one flat spot
in his well-rounded education:
He still hadn't learned he was a cougar.
Now he got the big news
from old Mother Nature...
...and a young cougarette.
Hallelujah and howdy-do!
Now these two teenagers
were too young to be mates,
but they were just right to be playmates.
Their first moonlight madness
finally tapered off
into a more leisurely moonlight stroll.
And when that was over, they'd covered
about 25 miles of mountain.
They were both plum tuckered out.
So one last little tussle,
then taking a rest for the rest of the night
seemed a mighty good idea.
First thing next morning,
the cougars hit the happiness trail again.
Charlie had never seen snow before,
but his new friend got the ball rolling.
That started a regular winter carnival
for cougars.
Charlie figured the fun was done
at the end of the slide,
but little Miss Patty Paws
was working up something new.
With all that exercise, the two youngsters
had built up
a couple of full-sized appetites.
Now being born to the wild,
and mountain brought-up,
the lady cat knew all about
rounding up vittles for breakfast.
"Finders, keepers"
is part of a cougar's code.
But Charlie hadn't read that book.
He saw that somehow
his friend had found food,
and he mistook that look
for "Come and get it". So he did.
And he got it.
Well, thanks a lot and so long, sister.
Right about now, Charlie began
to realize he wasn't just hungry,
he was homesick too.
But where was home?
Maybe just over this ridge.
Nope, that wasn't it.
But surely those kindly folks down there
would give a poor, lonesome cougar
a bite to eat.
As it turned out, Charlie
did hit feeding time right on the button.
But it seems another breed of cat
had the inside track
with the friendly folks around here.
Right now, they were enjoying
their morning target duty
for the boss's
milksmanship marksmanship.
Kitty, kitty, kitty...
And Bronco!
Chester, come on, baby.
There you go, kitten.
There you go.
Bronco, Bronco, baby. There you go.
Bronco, there you go.
Get that!
By now, Charlie had caught
the inviting scent of that warm, fresh milk.
So, might as well accept the invitation.
Whoop... Better hold up for a minute
and mind his manners
until those poor little underfed cousins
had their fill.
Then, when they moved out,
he'd move in.
Bronco, come on.
There you go.
Jesse, Jesse.
Come on, there you go, kitty.
Chico, come on.
There you go.
Chic... Chic-ooh!
Charlie was a little embarrassed.
He didn't know what he'd done,
but maybe if he cleaned up the mess
that nice man would hurry back
and talks things over,
friendly-like and peaceable.
Blackie, the farm dog,
figured that shot meant
the boss was going hunting.
And he didn't want to miss out on that.
Now in just about two more jumps,
Blackie was gonna pick up
the scent of cat with a capital C.
Well, that's how Charlie
hit the lonesome trail for good.
Only, it wasn't so good.
He was lost and hungry, and he'd
never learned to provide for himself.
The days kept going by
and so far he hadn't even learned
how to read the forest menu.
In a showdown fight, a raccoon
can give away a lot of weight
and still come out on top.
But whenever he sees really big trouble
coming, it only makes sense to run from it.
When the raccoon
finally ran out of running room,
Charlie figured he had him cornered.
But as it turned out, this was no place
for a cougar to throw his weight around.
That feisty little rascal
had Charlie all washed up.
What he wanted now
was to get wrung out and holler "Quits".
The raccoon's answer to that was,
"OK, buster,
but if you ever want any more of the same,
come on back... anytime. "
Well, Mother Nature
finally decided to come to the aid
of this underprivileged cougar.
He was gonna get a little lesson
in self-help through visual education.
When the lynx saw he had a backward
pupil bent on promoting himself,
seemed a mighty good idea to close the
kindergarten and declare a long recess.
That gave Charlie an open chance
at the cafeteria.
At first, Charlie couldn't catch one mouse
in a whole meadowful.
Persistence finally paid off.
But since he could only get
one ounce to the pounce,
it took all afternoon before Charlie's
need for food was finally satisfied.
Well, the days turned into weeks
and the summer passed.
By autumn, Charlie had learned
to hunt all kinds of small game.
But a cougar is born to play a bigger part
in keeping nature's balance.
A deer is the natural prey of a king cat.
His timing was perfect,
but this was one kill he would never make.
For now he became the hunted.
Charlie's time was fast running out.
But right now things
were gonna start looking up again.
It happened when Charlie found
this log flume,
and got himself treed
on the left-bank plank.
Although Charlie was giving
a good account of himself,
he had a notion
he ought to find some way out of here.
Well, it better be quick.
The dogs weren't leaving,
and the hunter was closing in.
So, right in the nick of time,
Charlie set sail for parts unknown.
Now, ridin' the bark
was an old story to Charlie,
but he'd never tried it
on a homemade creek before.
Oh, he'd have howled a whole lot louder
if he'd known what lay ahead.
Well, that log had covered
about nine miles of flume,
and it still had three to go
before it hit the river.
But for Charlie,
the end was already in sight.
Ooh-ow!
Out of Charlie's giddy adventure,
there was a strange development.
Sometime, somewhere,
he'd seen this same flume before.
He aimed to check out the whole vicinity.
Just as soon as he got his land legs again.
From daylight, far into the dark,
Charlie had been following a river
that seemed to get
more and more familiar.
Mile after mile, hour after hour,
he kept plodding on,
heading for some distant,
half-remembered place.
That place was
the Carbon County Lumber Mill.
The operation here was always shut
down to an idle at night.
And on the stroke of 12,
Charlie was just bridging the last gap
in his own memory lane.
Now there was a place
no hungry cougar could ever forget.
At Potlatch's Bean Pot Caf,
Charlie had always done his mooching
at the back door.
But tonight he couldn't get an answer.
So he headed around front.
Then that unforgettable restaurant scent
stopped him short.
It was coming from... where?
Whoop... Back there.
Nope, up there.
This was a place of plenty all right,
but it was all unavailable
to a cougar without a can opener.
Now there was one small exception.
This little device
had been set for mice...
but it sure trapped one king-sized cat.
Charlie wanted out.
He was more wild than tame now.
And he had a wild animal's
fear and hatred of confinement.
For the first time in his life,
Charlie was a very dangerous cougar.
Next morning started out just like any
other morning for Potlatch and Chainsaw.
But right about now, that Bean Pot
was a real explosive can of peas.
And the one thing it didn't need
was opening.
What's the matter, Chainsaw?
You on a trail or something?
Chainsaw!
Shut up!
- Hello, Potlatch.
- Smokey. Henry.
- How's the coffee?
- It should be hot. Help yourself.
Chainsaw, will you shut up!
What's the matter with that mutt, Potlatch?
Chainsaw, be quiet!
Chainsaw, will you shut up?
Chainsaw.
Chainsaw, will you knock it off?
What's wrong with you?
There's nothing in there.
- Was that Charlie?
- I didn't ask him.
- He went for me! Came right at me!
- Let's get him!
- Let's get him before he hurts somebody.
- How'd he get in there?
- Stop him! That's a cougar!
- He's going into the yard!
Hurry, he's got Chainsaw!
No, he's OK.
Here he comes!
Look at the size of that cat!
Missed him.
Hey, look out over there!
Cougar! Wild cougar!
Hey, get some help!
Everybody, look out!
There's a cougar loose!
Get him, Smokey!
Get back, Jim!
It's a cougar!
Cougar! Cougar!
Let's get out of here!
There's a cougar loose!
Cougar!
Go round the other way!
Maybe he went high.
Watch out overhead.
Hey, over here!
There he goes!
Nail him, Jack!
Up there!
He's cornered now.
- I betcha he's Charlie!
- Are you kidding? Charlie?
He's headed for the elevator.
- We need a gun!
- That way, let's go! Hurry up!
Hey!
Hurry, there's a cougar on the elevator!
Right there!
Let me handle this, Smokey.
Hey, guys, give me some room.
Wait a minute! Hold it! Hold it!
Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Charlie?
Charlie.
Cliff, that's Charlie.
Maybe so, Jess,
but he's gone bad.
- No, no. Let me handle this.
- OK, it's your hide.
OK. OK, Charlie.
OK, take it easy now, boy.
Slim, let me down on that rope.
I'm gonna try to...
calm him down first.
Then I'll take him out of here.
You guys, just back up a little, huh?
Sure that's Charlie there?
It's gonna be OK, Charlie.
No problems, boy.
OK, now, Charlie.
Take it easy now, boy.
OK, let me down a little.
OK, easy does it, Charlie.
Relax now, Charlie.
Take it easy now.
Easy now.
Don't let me down now.
Throw me down that rope. Easy.
OK, Charlie.
It's all right, Charlie.
It's OK, boy.
Stand still now, please.
All right, Charlie.
It's OK, boy.
You're all right, feller.
It's OK.
Remember me? Huh?
Come on now, boy.
Come on!
It's me.
Take it easy now, Charlie.
That's a boy.
It's all right.
It's OK.
It's old home week, buddy.
Come on, easy now.
Get those ears up.
OK, Charlie.
That's a boy.
- All right, Jess.
- Look at that, will ya?
- Be careful.
- It's Jess's cat, all right.
OK, Charlie-boy.
OK, bring us up.
- Bring 'em up.
- Give 'em plenty of room, there.
It was early the next day that Charlie
took his last ride with Jess Bradley.
It would be a long drive
to where they were going,
so Jess brought along somebody
to keep him company on the return trip.
It seems a certain ex-nurse was just about
to become Mrs. Jess Bradley.
Well, that guaranteed
a happy future for Jess,
and now he was figuring
to do the same for Charlie.
Way up in a high corner
of the Cascade country,
there's about 1,000 square miles
of protected primitive wilderness.
And it's all out of bounds
for dogs and guns and bounty hunters.
This would be Charlie's new home.
Well, I guess this spot's as good as any.
Come here, Charlie.
Down.
You're on your own.
Go on, now.
Looks like Charlie's gonna be
real happy here.
Now being the sort of cat he was,
there's just a little chance
that Charlie somehow, sometime,
might have found his way back to Jess
and the Carbon County Lumber Mill again.
Except for one thing...
It seemed there was this bewitching,
bewildering scent in the air.
And it was coming from just up the hill.
Charlie took a long look.
A closer look.
Well, hallelujah and howdy-do again!
There's no way of telling
if this really was the same cougarette
that Charlie took a fancy to
a long time ago,
but Charlie was sure she was,
and that settled that.
So that's how Charlie's lonesome days
ended in the best of all possible ways.
He was a king cat now.
From this time on he'd reign
over all this bountiful wilderness domain.
He'd have a whole new life
with a brand-new mate.
That means it's time for us to state
there'll be no more talking
about Charlie.
So long, Charlie.
# So long
so long, Charlie
# May his story end
# Lonesome Charlie
# Talkin' about Charlie
It's a natural fact
#That cat didn't know
how a cat should act
# He figured he was a human kind
# When all the time he'd been designed
To be a... cougar
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# He didn't dig that nature scene
Those grizzly bears were too darn mean
# He figured his rightful fittin'place
# Was kicking around
with the human race
# Lumberjacks, mostly
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# How come he was lonesome?
Well, that's the story we're here to tell
# So let's get started right from the top
When we come to the end...
# We'll stop
# Talkin' about Charlie
Good-Time Charlie
# Everybody's friend
# Charlie, Good-Time Charlie
Everybody's friend
This is Timberland, USA.
The Cascade Range
in the Pacific Northwest.
A great big chunk of wilderness
that's best known
for logging, lumberjacks
and mountain lions,
commonly called "cougar"
in these parts.
Now some folks say
a cougar is just about
the biggest mistake
Mother Nature ever made.
200 pounds of tooth, claw and trouble.
But this is a story about one cougar
that was different.
You see, right from the beginning,
he didn't know he was a cougar,
because he didn't have
a mother to tell him.
A hunter took her for bounty
three days ago,
and he'd been walking
the lonesome trail ever since.
Right about now, though, fate came up
with a prime prospect for a soft touch.
A lumber company forester
by the name of Jess Bradley.
Jess had come here today to mark
some selected trees for a logging crew.
Well, there was a kitten
in his own pocket of poverty,
and not far away,
one innocent, unsuspecting human.
Fate was about ready to move in
and make the connection.
Now, Jess not only had
a college degree in forestry,
he was pretty well schooled
by Mother Nature, too.
Well, hello there.
Where'd you come from?
Right away, he read the signs.
This was forest land, and a female cougar
likes to den in the rimrocks.
So the kitten must have wandered
down here on his own.
No mother cougar would let that happen,
not if she was alive to stop it.
You poor little fella.
Come on. Come on.
Come on. Huh?
I'm not gonna hurt you now.
Looks to me
like you could use a square meal.
So, there was only one thing
for a nature-loving man to do.
Of course, Jess wasn't
planning anything permanent.
He'd have to turn the cat loose,
sooner or later.
Meantime, though, it might be kind of fun
having a kitten around the house.
Well, the fun started that very night.
Come on.
That's it.
Whoops!
Sloppy eater, aren't you?
Being a bachelor, Jess didn't have
any experience in this line of work.
But with a little thinking,
he came up with a formula,
and it seemed to serve the purpose.
You got a hollow leg?
You're gonna have to get on to a schedule.
Shh.
Easy.
That's a boy.
There you go, now.
Jess named his new pet
Good-Time Charlie.
And he soon got downright fond
of that little cat.
The little cat got right down
to living up to that name.
One thing about Charlie,
he caught on quick.
Wasn't any trick to taking trout -
all you had to do is play it right.
Hey, Charlie...
Charlie! Hey, Charlie!
You come back here with that fish!
Right from the beginning,
Charlie had made an acquaintance
with all the neighborhood critters.
But lately, a young raccoon
seems small for a playmate.
And so did a fox cub.
The pine marten never did see Charlie
as a real close companion.
So, being a friendly,
outgoing sort of cougar,
Charlie decided to explore
the whole wide forest world.
See if couldn't find himself
a bigger and better playmate.
Wow!
What in creation were these?
One sure was bigger, all right.
But it just didn't have
that fun-loving look.
For Charlie, that made the other one
look a whole lot better.
Now if Bigger would stay put for a while,
and if Better would just keep on moving,
there ought to be plenty of room for
two youngsters to have a friendly frolic.
There never was a kitten, or a cub either,
that could pass up a chance
to bed down in a hollow log.
Only difference is how they go about it.
With a cat,
it's a matter of instant relaxation.
A bear likes to prepare.
Well, that took care
of the itching and twitching.
He was all ready for napping now.
Find a good, comfortable position.
That'd take a little doing.
In one way or another,
they got in about 39 winks,
but they'd never make it to 40.
Because right outside,
a rude awakening was on the way.
One mean male bachelor bear.
He set a lot of store by this log.
It was always well-stocked
with mully-grubs, beetles,
and other delicacies
dear to the stomach of a bear.
And he sure wouldn't take kindly
to the Beat Generation
making a pad out of his pantry.
To Old Grouch,
the current crop of youngsters
was just a lot of nuisance and noise.
As it turned out, the noise
was an emergency call for help.
Well, Mother was already
halfway there.
It started out as a pretty even match.
Of course, the cub
was cheering for Mom all the way.
Charlie couldn't even tell them apart.
They were both wearing black trunks.
When Old Grouch
tried to tag up for a time-out,
the cub figured it was safe to shimmy
down and get himself a closer view.
Mom was losing a little ground
when Junior lowered the boom.
Heading for home, one small cougar.
And one sore-headed old bachelor.
And one mother bear,
complete with cub.
The Carbon County Mill
was Jess Bradley's headquarters.
And by the time
Charlie was quarter-grown,
he had full run of the mill yard.
Charlie made friends everywhere,
but come lunch hour
he always headed for one special place:
That little caf.
It was a hot spot for handouts.
It was also home base for a cougar-hating
fox terrier named Chainsaw.
Whenever he saw that overgrown
house cat fixing to invade his territory,
Chainsaw would set a trap.
Today, he decided to sort of make out like
he was going somewhere to bury a bone.
Like always, Charlie fell for the trick.
He figured is was safe now
to move in and mooch a meal.
Charlie stopped just long enough
to check all possible hiding places -
except the right one.
Then he put in a call
to his personal friend, Potlatch.
Hey, be right there, Charlie.
Of course, Potlatch liked his dog,
but he had a lot of sympathy
for a born loser, too.
Chainsaw?
Chainsaw!
Wherever you are, you beat it!
Come on, inside.
Quick!
You've come to see me
to get a little snack, huh?
Well, come on.
I got something nice for you. Look.
Chainsaw figured
he had that cat cornered for sure.
All he needed now
was a kindly customer heading his way.
That would be Jess Bradley.
OK, Chainsaw.
Go on in.
Oh, no!
Catch him! Charlie, come back here!
Don't let him get on the shelf! Charlie!
Aw, my new kitchen!
- Corner him!
- He's heading for the door, Jess!
Hey, Tim, grab the cat!
He's your cat - you grab him.
Chainsaw!
Chainsaw, down! Chainsaw!
Potlatch, get your dog.
Stop that!
Chainsaw, when that cat grows up
you're gonna have a problem.
When he grows up?
What do you call him now?
Just a great big, overgrown kitten.
That's what he's always gonna be.
Aren't you, Good-Time Charlie, huh?
Aren't you fella?
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
In the nature of things,
Charlie did keep growing up.
But at heart, he was still one man's kitten.
Right now, Charlie was helping supervise
the finish of the winter logging activities.
Next would come a full-scale,
old-fashioned river drive.
The start of a river drive
is something worth going to see.
It's the biggest operation
of the whole year.
60 million feet of timber ready to ride
the river 120 miles through the wilderness.
It always begins in early spring,
when the river is high and rising.
Then one giant nudge at the key log,
and the river drive really gets rolling.
Now a big-scale river drive like this
swings into action
through several well-planned stages.
First to move out,
after the main body of logs,
is the number one crew of river men.
They'll make sure there aren't
any major centerjams or wing jams
or any other kind of hang-ups.
Last to leave would be the cook,
in a well-stocked floating kitchen
called the Little Wonigan.
Moving out now, the Big Wonigan.
For the next 10 or 15 days,
these seagoing shacks
would be living quarters
for the whole drive crew - about 40 men.
Well, the big push was over now
for Jess and Charlie.
They figured things would be
getting back to normal again.
Come on, Charlie.
Let's go home.
But old fickle fate had other ideas.
It seems Potlatch had brought the ton
of food it took the feed the river crew.
- Hiya, Jess!
- Hello, Potlatch.
He'd also brought 15 pounds of trouble.
- You got 'em all loaded, ready to go?
- Hey, Charlie!
You get that drive started OK?
Hey, window's open!
- Chainsaw, get back!
- Charlie, come back here!
Chainsaw! You leave that cat alone!
Charlie! Charlie!
Come back here!
Charlie!
Charlie!
Charlie, come back here!
Chainsaw, stop!
Hey, Potlatch, they're coming your way!
Head 'em off!
Hey, grab him!
Hey, that's enough of that.
Charlie had left one problem behind
only to head straight for another.
This cook was a new man. He'd never
even heard of Good-Time Charlie.
Well, he was about
to make his acquaintance.
Whoa!
- Cougar!
- Yeah, I know.
There's a cougar!
Charlie! Charlie!
Hold on, Charlie!
Oh, great.
Charlie had already
found himself a lifeboat.
But Jess just kept going down and down
with the ship.
Charlie!
Charlie!
Jess figured if he was gonna save
the Wonigan and his cougar and himself,
he'd better be dressed for the occasion.
There was white water ahead,
and plenty of it.
All Jess could do now was steer
a middle course, stay in the main stream
and hope somehow to salvage
that cougar from his one-log catamaran.
The current was doing about 15 knots,
and that can use up
an awful lot of river in a hurry.
Rescue wasn't getting one quarter-inch
closer as far as Charlie could see.
Then came along this chance
to get out of his own little jam
by getting onto a bigger one.
Now he'd just wait here for the boss
to drop by and pick him up.
Charlie!
Charlie! Charlie!
Charlie! Stay right there!
I'll be back for you!
It looked like Charlie
had sure missed the boat.
All he'd got was promises,
when what he really needed was help.
So being left to his own natural resources,
Charlie figured he'd just have
to launch out on his own.
That free-floating kitchen
was getting quite a bit behind schedule,
and now a search party
was on its way upriver.
Hey, there it is!
Hey, it's Jess Bradley.
- When did you take up cooking, Jess?
- And what did you do with our cook?
Never mind the questions, just help me
get this river shack under control.
Upstream, Charlie kept
right on logging travel time
and he was fast closing the gap.
Meanwhile, Jess was explaining
to the drive boss
how come his kitchen was minus a cook.
I'm sorry, Mac, but I had no choice.
The Wonigan was headed downriver
and the cook was hightailing up the bank.
Do you realize I have 40 men here to feed?
Mac, can we worry about the cook later?
I've gotta get Charlie.
Charlie?
He's marooned on a center jam
about 10 miles upriver. I need a boat.
Looks like a short 10 miles to me.
Hey, here he is!
Hey, hold on!
Hang on, Charlie!
Don't go away!
Charlie!
- Give me a boat. Come on, Mac.
- Uh-uh.
What do you mean? I gotta get Charlie.
I will be reasonable, though.
You get our supper, we'll get your cougar.
- Look, I'm no cook.
- No cook, no cougar.
- I'm a cook. Let's go get Charlie.
- We'll get Charlie.
You start peeling spuds.
- How about a little of that salad?
- You bet.
Mac, you drive a hard bargain.
Here you are, Ray.
You're doing all right, Jess.
Clean it up, Charlie.
Only one to a customer.
Say, we're gonna
have to hang on to this fella.
Good cook.
I think we should be able
to figure out a way.
- Coffee, Joe?
- Oh, no thanks, Jess. I've had plenty.
- Everything else OK, gentlemen?
- No complaints.
- Fine.
- Just like uptown.
OK, let's get me back upriver
and bring back your cook.
Not so fast, Jess.
I've been... I've been concerned about you.
Yeah?
You've been looking a little peaked lately.
We figure you need a little break
from your regular job.
Little change in scenery.
Something like...
a river cruise downstream.
No, sir. Uh-uh.
Now look, I've got a job
and you've got a cook.
And they're both waiting upstream,
so let's go.
But we're working downstream,
and about 40, 50 miles, when we hit
the road, our cook will be there.
And meantime?
Well, in the meantime,
you cook real well, just keep it up.
Come on, boys.
- You guys. Come on, fellas...
- Good night, Jess.
- Hey! Now, Mac, look...
- Breakfast at five o'clock.
Five o'cl...
Oh, boy!
In a river drive, the main body of logs
floats right on down to the mill.
But all kinds of drifters
get hung up and stranded.
Every last log has to be pried loose
and prodded along.
The very first day, Charlie moved in
and made out
like he was a born and bred river cat.
Whenever the jet boats ferried a crew
from one trouble spot to another,
Charlie was right on top of the action.
In no time at all, Charlie figured he was
the ramrod of this whole operation.
And anybody who seemed to be easing
up was likely to get a dressing down.
There were a few strangers in the crew,
and at first they didn't look kindly
on a cougar being part of the team.
But pretty soon, Good-Time Charlie
was everybody's friend.
One thing about Charlie,
he didn't expect the workmen
to do anything he wouldn't do himself.
He was always willing to get in there
and lend a helping paw.
If the fellas seemed to be making
a fairly clean sweep of things,
Charlie was ready to move on
to other responsibilities -
after he'd made sure
the boat was shipshape.
For the next few days, the river drive
moved along in good order.
As one section was cleaned out,
the Wonigans moved downstream
to a new base of operation.
Today, that meant taking the Big Wonigan
through a rough stretch of white water
called The Devil's Elbow.
Now the crew would spot
the Big Wonigan downstream,
then come back for the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Jess was using the slack time
for some extra sack time.
And Charlie was killing a little time
with a piece of twine.
Charlie knew he'd done something,
but there was no way he could undo
what he'd already undone.
Well, in a case like this,
there was only one thing left to do:
Find the best vantage points
and enjoy the passing show.
Holy smoke!
What's going on?
Oh, no!
Oh, crock it!
It wasn't very far downstream that the river
men had come up against a tangle of logs
that manpower alone couldn't unravel.
Dynamite was the only answer.
Of course, they couldn't know
they were lighting a wick
that was gonna bust up something
more than a logjam.
Charlie moved in right on time
for the countdown.
Because there was one thing now
that was plain for all to see:
Charlie's river carnival
was headed straight for a flash finish.
Go back!
Go back!
- Dynamite!
- Go back! Go back!
Dynamite!
She's gonna blow!
How come you're acting so guilty?
It wasn't your fault.
Or was it?
Charlie!
Jess!
Jess, are you hurt?
- Man, we thought you was a goner.
- We sure did. Are you all right?
Oh, I'm... I'm fine.
Just fine.
The long chain of circumstances
that started on the river drive
finally ended up back at the mill,
with Charlie on the short end.
You see, when the big boss
started adding lost man hours
to mangled groceries,
to busted-up Wonigans,
he decided to subtract one cougar.
And he ordered Jess
to keep a curb on that cat.
Charlie didn't like the new setup at all.
He had the growing feeling
that he was getting left out,
put upon and neglected.
What's more, he was just plain bored.
Then Charlie heard the sound
of folks having fun.
What Charlie heard
was a bunch of the boys a-whoopin' it up
with a noon-hour roll-eo.
Round and round she goes,
and where she stops nobody knows.
Well, here came the river cat that once
rode a log 21 miles through 25 rapids.
As soon as there was an opening,
he was gonna get in there
and really give that thing a whirl.
OK, who's next?
Come on, I want some competition.
How about you?
Come over. Hey, Mike, come on over.
Come on, Ed.
You're the guy I want to get on here.
Hey, now this is gonna be a ride!
Come on, Charlie.
You asked for it.
- I'll cover all bets.
- I'll take five of that.
Roll him under, Jimmy.
Charlie had the edge
with his four-wheel drive.
The only thing now that could
cut him out of first place was... Chainsaw.
Charlie was too shook up to catch up.
Cut it out, Chainsaw.
Don't shorten my odds.
His chances for victory
went right down the drain.
Thanks a lot, Charlie.
It was Chainsaw!
Somebody drown that dog!
No, you don't.
He won money for me.
OK, wise guy, next time you're gonna get
a shorter chain and a tighter collar.
All right, you guys,
this is a saw mill, not a side show.
Let's cut some lumber, huh?
I'm sorry, Cliff, I don't know how
he got loose. It won't happen again.
Maybe we better make sure
it doesn't, Jess.
OK. I'll keep him at home from now on.
Charlie's sure gonna miss
his friends around here.
- Well, his friends will miss Charlie, too.
- Yeah.
Come on, Charlie.
Let's get out of here.
And so the free-roaming days were over.
Even worse, Jess was in town
about eight nights a week now.
It seems a certain nurse just might be
the cure for his "bacheloritis".
So, Charlie was left
right in the middle of all this quiet,
with not one thing to do.
He was just about the lonesomest
cougar in all of Carbon County.
But this particular evening,
things took a turn for the better.
It happened right on
the stroke of moonrise.
There was music in the air.
What Charlie wanted
was to move in for a little closer harmony.
If he could just get himself unpacked
from this cougar crate.
There's no doubt that Charlie
was a mighty smart cat.
But he did have one flat spot
in his well-rounded education:
He still hadn't learned he was a cougar.
Now he got the big news
from old Mother Nature...
...and a young cougarette.
Hallelujah and howdy-do!
Now these two teenagers
were too young to be mates,
but they were just right to be playmates.
Their first moonlight madness
finally tapered off
into a more leisurely moonlight stroll.
And when that was over, they'd covered
about 25 miles of mountain.
They were both plum tuckered out.
So one last little tussle,
then taking a rest for the rest of the night
seemed a mighty good idea.
First thing next morning,
the cougars hit the happiness trail again.
Charlie had never seen snow before,
but his new friend got the ball rolling.
That started a regular winter carnival
for cougars.
Charlie figured the fun was done
at the end of the slide,
but little Miss Patty Paws
was working up something new.
With all that exercise, the two youngsters
had built up
a couple of full-sized appetites.
Now being born to the wild,
and mountain brought-up,
the lady cat knew all about
rounding up vittles for breakfast.
"Finders, keepers"
is part of a cougar's code.
But Charlie hadn't read that book.
He saw that somehow
his friend had found food,
and he mistook that look
for "Come and get it". So he did.
And he got it.
Well, thanks a lot and so long, sister.
Right about now, Charlie began
to realize he wasn't just hungry,
he was homesick too.
But where was home?
Maybe just over this ridge.
Nope, that wasn't it.
But surely those kindly folks down there
would give a poor, lonesome cougar
a bite to eat.
As it turned out, Charlie
did hit feeding time right on the button.
But it seems another breed of cat
had the inside track
with the friendly folks around here.
Right now, they were enjoying
their morning target duty
for the boss's
milksmanship marksmanship.
Kitty, kitty, kitty...
And Bronco!
Chester, come on, baby.
There you go, kitten.
There you go.
Bronco, Bronco, baby. There you go.
Bronco, there you go.
Get that!
By now, Charlie had caught
the inviting scent of that warm, fresh milk.
So, might as well accept the invitation.
Whoop... Better hold up for a minute
and mind his manners
until those poor little underfed cousins
had their fill.
Then, when they moved out,
he'd move in.
Bronco, come on.
There you go.
Jesse, Jesse.
Come on, there you go, kitty.
Chico, come on.
There you go.
Chic... Chic-ooh!
Charlie was a little embarrassed.
He didn't know what he'd done,
but maybe if he cleaned up the mess
that nice man would hurry back
and talks things over,
friendly-like and peaceable.
Blackie, the farm dog,
figured that shot meant
the boss was going hunting.
And he didn't want to miss out on that.
Now in just about two more jumps,
Blackie was gonna pick up
the scent of cat with a capital C.
Well, that's how Charlie
hit the lonesome trail for good.
Only, it wasn't so good.
He was lost and hungry, and he'd
never learned to provide for himself.
The days kept going by
and so far he hadn't even learned
how to read the forest menu.
In a showdown fight, a raccoon
can give away a lot of weight
and still come out on top.
But whenever he sees really big trouble
coming, it only makes sense to run from it.
When the raccoon
finally ran out of running room,
Charlie figured he had him cornered.
But as it turned out, this was no place
for a cougar to throw his weight around.
That feisty little rascal
had Charlie all washed up.
What he wanted now
was to get wrung out and holler "Quits".
The raccoon's answer to that was,
"OK, buster,
but if you ever want any more of the same,
come on back... anytime. "
Well, Mother Nature
finally decided to come to the aid
of this underprivileged cougar.
He was gonna get a little lesson
in self-help through visual education.
When the lynx saw he had a backward
pupil bent on promoting himself,
seemed a mighty good idea to close the
kindergarten and declare a long recess.
That gave Charlie an open chance
at the cafeteria.
At first, Charlie couldn't catch one mouse
in a whole meadowful.
Persistence finally paid off.
But since he could only get
one ounce to the pounce,
it took all afternoon before Charlie's
need for food was finally satisfied.
Well, the days turned into weeks
and the summer passed.
By autumn, Charlie had learned
to hunt all kinds of small game.
But a cougar is born to play a bigger part
in keeping nature's balance.
A deer is the natural prey of a king cat.
His timing was perfect,
but this was one kill he would never make.
For now he became the hunted.
Charlie's time was fast running out.
But right now things
were gonna start looking up again.
It happened when Charlie found
this log flume,
and got himself treed
on the left-bank plank.
Although Charlie was giving
a good account of himself,
he had a notion
he ought to find some way out of here.
Well, it better be quick.
The dogs weren't leaving,
and the hunter was closing in.
So, right in the nick of time,
Charlie set sail for parts unknown.
Now, ridin' the bark
was an old story to Charlie,
but he'd never tried it
on a homemade creek before.
Oh, he'd have howled a whole lot louder
if he'd known what lay ahead.
Well, that log had covered
about nine miles of flume,
and it still had three to go
before it hit the river.
But for Charlie,
the end was already in sight.
Ooh-ow!
Out of Charlie's giddy adventure,
there was a strange development.
Sometime, somewhere,
he'd seen this same flume before.
He aimed to check out the whole vicinity.
Just as soon as he got his land legs again.
From daylight, far into the dark,
Charlie had been following a river
that seemed to get
more and more familiar.
Mile after mile, hour after hour,
he kept plodding on,
heading for some distant,
half-remembered place.
That place was
the Carbon County Lumber Mill.
The operation here was always shut
down to an idle at night.
And on the stroke of 12,
Charlie was just bridging the last gap
in his own memory lane.
Now there was a place
no hungry cougar could ever forget.
At Potlatch's Bean Pot Caf,
Charlie had always done his mooching
at the back door.
But tonight he couldn't get an answer.
So he headed around front.
Then that unforgettable restaurant scent
stopped him short.
It was coming from... where?
Whoop... Back there.
Nope, up there.
This was a place of plenty all right,
but it was all unavailable
to a cougar without a can opener.
Now there was one small exception.
This little device
had been set for mice...
but it sure trapped one king-sized cat.
Charlie wanted out.
He was more wild than tame now.
And he had a wild animal's
fear and hatred of confinement.
For the first time in his life,
Charlie was a very dangerous cougar.
Next morning started out just like any
other morning for Potlatch and Chainsaw.
But right about now, that Bean Pot
was a real explosive can of peas.
And the one thing it didn't need
was opening.
What's the matter, Chainsaw?
You on a trail or something?
Chainsaw!
Shut up!
- Hello, Potlatch.
- Smokey. Henry.
- How's the coffee?
- It should be hot. Help yourself.
Chainsaw, will you shut up!
What's the matter with that mutt, Potlatch?
Chainsaw, be quiet!
Chainsaw, will you shut up?
Chainsaw.
Chainsaw, will you knock it off?
What's wrong with you?
There's nothing in there.
- Was that Charlie?
- I didn't ask him.
- He went for me! Came right at me!
- Let's get him!
- Let's get him before he hurts somebody.
- How'd he get in there?
- Stop him! That's a cougar!
- He's going into the yard!
Hurry, he's got Chainsaw!
No, he's OK.
Here he comes!
Look at the size of that cat!
Missed him.
Hey, look out over there!
Cougar! Wild cougar!
Hey, get some help!
Everybody, look out!
There's a cougar loose!
Get him, Smokey!
Get back, Jim!
It's a cougar!
Cougar! Cougar!
Let's get out of here!
There's a cougar loose!
Cougar!
Go round the other way!
Maybe he went high.
Watch out overhead.
Hey, over here!
There he goes!
Nail him, Jack!
Up there!
He's cornered now.
- I betcha he's Charlie!
- Are you kidding? Charlie?
He's headed for the elevator.
- We need a gun!
- That way, let's go! Hurry up!
Hey!
Hurry, there's a cougar on the elevator!
Right there!
Let me handle this, Smokey.
Hey, guys, give me some room.
Wait a minute! Hold it! Hold it!
Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Charlie?
Charlie.
Cliff, that's Charlie.
Maybe so, Jess,
but he's gone bad.
- No, no. Let me handle this.
- OK, it's your hide.
OK. OK, Charlie.
OK, take it easy now, boy.
Slim, let me down on that rope.
I'm gonna try to...
calm him down first.
Then I'll take him out of here.
You guys, just back up a little, huh?
Sure that's Charlie there?
It's gonna be OK, Charlie.
No problems, boy.
OK, now, Charlie.
Take it easy now, boy.
OK, let me down a little.
OK, easy does it, Charlie.
Relax now, Charlie.
Take it easy now.
Easy now.
Don't let me down now.
Throw me down that rope. Easy.
OK, Charlie.
It's all right, Charlie.
It's OK, boy.
Stand still now, please.
All right, Charlie.
It's OK, boy.
You're all right, feller.
It's OK.
Remember me? Huh?
Come on now, boy.
Come on!
It's me.
Take it easy now, Charlie.
That's a boy.
It's all right.
It's OK.
It's old home week, buddy.
Come on, easy now.
Get those ears up.
OK, Charlie.
That's a boy.
- All right, Jess.
- Look at that, will ya?
- Be careful.
- It's Jess's cat, all right.
OK, Charlie-boy.
OK, bring us up.
- Bring 'em up.
- Give 'em plenty of room, there.
It was early the next day that Charlie
took his last ride with Jess Bradley.
It would be a long drive
to where they were going,
so Jess brought along somebody
to keep him company on the return trip.
It seems a certain ex-nurse was just about
to become Mrs. Jess Bradley.
Well, that guaranteed
a happy future for Jess,
and now he was figuring
to do the same for Charlie.
Way up in a high corner
of the Cascade country,
there's about 1,000 square miles
of protected primitive wilderness.
And it's all out of bounds
for dogs and guns and bounty hunters.
This would be Charlie's new home.
Well, I guess this spot's as good as any.
Come here, Charlie.
Down.
You're on your own.
Go on, now.
Looks like Charlie's gonna be
real happy here.
Now being the sort of cat he was,
there's just a little chance
that Charlie somehow, sometime,
might have found his way back to Jess
and the Carbon County Lumber Mill again.
Except for one thing...
It seemed there was this bewitching,
bewildering scent in the air.
And it was coming from just up the hill.
Charlie took a long look.
A closer look.
Well, hallelujah and howdy-do again!
There's no way of telling
if this really was the same cougarette
that Charlie took a fancy to
a long time ago,
but Charlie was sure she was,
and that settled that.
So that's how Charlie's lonesome days
ended in the best of all possible ways.
He was a king cat now.
From this time on he'd reign
over all this bountiful wilderness domain.
He'd have a whole new life
with a brand-new mate.
That means it's time for us to state
there'll be no more talking
about Charlie.
So long, Charlie.
# So long
so long, Charlie
# May his story end