Exhibit A: These conversations occured over the course of a week while house-sitting a year ago
Operator: This is 911.
Me: Hi . . . um . . . I’m not sure whether you’re the right person to call. . . . I’ve got, uh, kind of a raccoon running around my front yard. It looks pretty much rabid to me.
Operator: I’ll send an officer over. Will you be able to meet them at the door?
Me: Well, I’m kind of stuck in the back, locked out of the house, but I’m trying to break in, so hopefully yes.
Operator: Okay. Bye!
Me: Are there any poisonous snakes around here?
My dad: Not really. There are rattlesnakes in the Alleghenies, but not around here. Why?
Me: Well, one of my cats decided to lie down next to one.
My dad: What color is it?
Me: Green and brown.
My dad: Oh, sounds like a . . . Green-and-Brown Snake.
Me: Thank you so much for your help.
Me: Are you sure there are no poisonous snakes around here?
My dad: Pretty sure. Why?
Me: There’s one under the molding in the laundry room.
My dad: Oh?
Me: It’s as long as my arm. It’s looking at the cats.
Exhibit B: A current (and ongoing) series of equally upsetting conversations
Me: I have a problem.
Landlord: Yes?
Me: My walls . . . are squeaking.
Landlord: How are your little critters doing? Did the poison work?
Me: Yes.
Landlord: Are you sure?
Me: Oh, yes. I can smell it.
Landlord: The poison?
Me: No. The dead animal in my wall.
Neighbor: Did you hear that last night?
Me: Hear what?
Neighbor: THE RACCOONS IN THE CEILING OF COURSE WHAT ELSE?
Me: Are you kidding?
Neighbor: NO.
Parents: How are your mice?
Me: Dead. It’s raccoons now. And I could swear I heard meowing over the weekend.
Parents: (speechless)
Landlord: I don’t see how a raccoon could get into the ceiling. It’s got to be a squirrel or chipmunk or something.
Me: A chipmunk is not physically capable of making that much noise. It sounds like a grown man walking on the roof.
Landlord: Hmm, I wonder if someone’s living up there. (laughs)
Boss: Remember when you asked for a pony?
Me: Yes. But I believe I had been drinking when I said that.
Boss: Well, I’m getting you a pink one.
Me: Great. I’ll put it in my ZOO.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
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12 comments:
did you tell the people at work you already have a perfectly good pony?
Smartass.
This isn't even including all the critters you've willingly kept! That menagerie idea is sounding more and more feasible every day ...
hahahahaha
"Kate Ventura; WILDLIFE MAGNET"
... that's not as good as pet detective... but in this instance, you're really not going under-cover to find them, they're simply finding YOU.
LPFGZ = lip figz :D teeheee
sorry to hear about the racoons though. It's probably a litter. But you'll be happy to know that if one gets hit by a car, the rest will all go out to the side of the road to mourn the loss of their loved one, and then they'll all get hit too. I always hate saying that because it's so sad.. but it's true.
oh ... my god. that puts the mice i was dreading in perspective. do they perhaps make good eatin'?
Yes, next time I have people over for dinner, I'm going to tell them it's beef, but really it will be some expertly sauteed raccoon from my attic. Want to come visit?
After I read this post, I had a dream that I acquired two escape artists cats, two fuchsia and neon green birds (I hate birds!), and a black and white bulldog I named Huxley. Obviously, I hold you accountable for the part where one of the birds got loose and spent the entire night hidden in my curtains, waiting to peck out my eyes as I slept with his tiny incisor-like break. (Okay, so I don't hate birds so much as I'm terrified of them.)
Are you saying that pesky critters never end up as dinner in the NY swamp? Damn, and I thought I lived in the classy part of Pennsylvania.
if you sautee expertly ... YES.
megan has very vivid dreams.
Indeed! Megan, I had no idea you had a fear of birds. But I do like the idea of a bulldog named Huxley.
actually, he was less of a bulldog and more of a this: http://bulldogbreeds.com/breeders/pics/jrkennel_boston_terrier.jpg
Now I really, REALLY want you to get one and call it Huxley.
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