Thursday, May 17, 2007

Evidence for why Louis the Whichever Roman Numeral it Was was right to call Western New York "a swamp"

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?
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.


Ivan said...

did you tell the people at work you already have a perfectly good pony?

Simon said...


Matthew said...

This isn't even including all the critters you've willingly kept! That menagerie idea is sounding more and more feasible every day ...

Christi said...



... 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.

Maeve said...

oh ... my god. that puts the mice i was dreading in perspective. do they perhaps make good eatin'?

Simon said...

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?

megan said...

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.

Maeve said...

if you sautee expertly ... YES.

Ivan said...

megan has very vivid dreams.

Simon said...

Indeed! Megan, I had no idea you had a fear of birds. But I do like the idea of a bulldog named Huxley.

megan said...

actually, he was less of a bulldog and more of a this:

Simon said...

Now I really, REALLY want you to get one and call it Huxley.