Important Questions: Could My Cat Beat Usain Bolt?

Usain Bolt is fast. We know this is true not only because he blew away yet another field of other extremely fleet-footed humans at the Olympics on Sunday, but because the Jamaican track stud repeatedly tells us so.

But let’s face it, 9.63 over 100 meters isn’t all that. I personally know someone who could conceivably cover that distance much more quickly. In fact, the dude poops in my living room. I’m talking about my cat, George.

Sure, George sleeps 15 hours a day, licks his own anus and thinks hand shadows on the wall are real. And come to think of it, the only time he breaks into an all-out sprint is when he hears me opening a can of Weruva Paw Lickin’ Chicken.

Still, my cat is faster than Usain Bolt.

I haven’t timed him over 100 meters or anything, but it’s a fact of nature that cats are faster than humans. According to the excellent website Speed of Animals, the common house cat can hit 29.8 mph on the radar gun, which under ideal circumstances would equate to a world-record time in the 100-meter of 7.51. My cat just made Usain Bolt look stupid.

But could George beat Usain Bolt in a real Olympic race and stick that genetic freak with a silver medal for once? The race would hinge on whether “ideal circumstances” would even be possible. Consider:

–The sound of the starter’s pistol would scare the Weruva out of him. Typically, when George is spooked by a loud noise, he looks up quizzically, almost morosely, as if to ask, “Is this the bringer of my demise?” He’d almost certainly lose precious seconds at the start pondering this all-important question.

–The International Olympic Committee doesn’t specifically ban cat food from being used as a tactical weapon. A well-timed opening of a can of Paw Lickin’ Chicken would guarantee that George never even makes it out of the blocks.

–George wouldn’t stay in his lane. Like most cats, George does what he wants. This is a cat who regularly defies household edicts to stay off counters, leave shoelaces alone and ignore important tax documents. There is virtually no chance a disqualification won’t show up next to George’s name in the final results.

–In the highly unlikely event that George stays within the lines, he’d still decide that stopping after 20 meters to lick his butt was the best use of his time. He’d most likely also kick his own face during the cleaning the process, costing precious seconds as he wages an adorable but pointless battle with his hindpaw. At least he’d win the race to see whose video goes viral fastest.

–Even if he somehow refrained from giving himself a tongue bath, George wouldn’t be bothered to finish the race unless I were running after him. And were I ever to move my legs in a way that could be described as running, the best time I could ever hope to achieve in the 100-meter would something like 20 seconds, and cats are only as fast as the screaming idiot chasing them, right?