I’m not the kind of person who tells animal stories. I’m a firm believer that, no matter how great your animals are (and, of course, mine are the greatest), they are of little interest to anyone but yourself.
Nothing incites me to action quicker than someone telling me that little Mittens did the cutest thing with his tongue unless it’s sticking it in a light socket.
No offense but the only thing I’ve ever seen little Mittens do was things I would not even print here.
But I know people have to tell stories so I have some. Like the time someone asked me how I liked having an exes cats in the house. I said it was fine but I didn’t trust them so stapled them to the floor before leaving the house.
Or the time I worked from home and would put a lizard on my shoulder. It liked it and he had some great plot ideas. One day I answered the door not giving a second thought to the lizard and have never seen Jehovahs Witnesses run from a doorstep quicker.
Or the time it was a very bad day. A friend of mine called to tell me a car crashed into his house yet none of his neighbors saw anything; another was taken off the air at a radio station; and then I got home.
I walk into the house, unstaple the cats, and make a phone call to the station. While I’m on hold I noticed something weird. When my friend got on the line I told him it was a horrible thing they were doing but that I’d call him over the weekend.
“I think I have a dead cat.”
Now I have to wait until the ex gets home. So I’m sitting at a table drinking a beer looking at a dead cat. When she pulls into the driveway I meet her and say,
I’m kind of a ‘get right to it’ guy.
She freaks out, thinks I had something to do with it (to clarify, I never once actually stapled a cat to anything. That would hurt. I used duct tape), thinks someone broke in and did something to it, all those things but, none of it was true.
She wants to bury it so we have to do something with it because we can’t get to her parents for a few days. So I clean out the freezer and put the cat in there. For that entire weekend when friends would come over they wouldn’t believe there was a cat in the freezer so just had to see the Speckcicle.
Just the other day I got another story. To get it out of the way, yes, I talk to the cats. I often find it some of the more riveting conversations I have during my day.
I’m talking to Brutus who is doing what he does mostly during these times (stare at me with that ‘You know, I don’t speak English, right?’ look). Ignoring that (because I think he does but doesn’t want me to know) I said,
“And what about your brother? Bundeschwager is such a good boy, huh? You like playing with him, huh?” I think asking them questions they’ll never answer is some type of Zen journey.
“And you remember Nuts, huh? You remember your sister Nuts, right?”
“Meh!” Brutus states unequivocally.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. She wasn’t your sister. You were fucking her so that would be wrong.