My Misfortune with Pets

Ever since I could remember, I’ve always had a pet. Be it a dog, cat or imaginary friends that bark, I always had a pet. With the exception of snakes, farm animals, geese or endangered wild life, chances are good that I’ve either had one or know someone that did! In my lifetime, I’ve had dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, birds, fish, hermit crabs, frogs and newts.

I won’t bore you with the names and stories behind each pet I’ve ever had, rather, I’ll share with you a few that hold a special place in my heart.

I’ll start with Beau. Beau was a bird. A parrot actually. He was cool…when I got him. Over the years though, Beau starting getting a little bit of an attitude. So, when I left for college, my parents made it very clear that the bird was going with me. That should have been my first clue. Beau had a strange habit. He liked to screech. I know that what parrot’s are suppose to do….but he usually did this in the morning. EARLY in the morning. Beau’s behavior got worse as my college years continued. By my senior year, the bird was out of control. After an all nighter of drunk-studying for an exam, hearing this beast scream defined obnoxious. When Darren moved in, life got bad for Beau. Beau’s nice brass cage became a target for us to throw anything we could get our hands on when he started screeching. “Shut your beak Beau!” “Beau, shut the fuck up you stupid sorry excuse for a parrot!” His cage got beaten up a lot, but held up well considering the hundreds of shoes and books thrown at it. I eventually sold the bird and Darren celebrated that day.

My love for animals continued to grow and so did my acquisitions. I eventually landed a job at Petsmart so that I could afford to feed them all and get discounts on pet food and supplies. That’s when the Fish, Newts and Frogs came into play. I once had this really cool fish called a silver arawana. When I bought this fish it was as small as a guppy, but grew so big that it could barely turn in the 55 gallon tank he was in. Anyway, this fish ate at least 12 goldfish every other day. It was THE entertainment of the evening when it was feeding time for Art the silver arawana. My best friend would say, “Judes, DON”T feed the silver iguana before I get there. I want to watch him eat.” “It’s a silver arawana Cris.” “Whatever don’t feed the iguana till I get there!” Art was sold for $50 bucks when he kept popping out of the tank every evening with several dictionaries holding down the tank lid. Again, Darren celebrated that day.

Newts were cool until Fred and Ethel escaped their tank one day. It wasn’t until I was doing my spring cleaning did I come across Fred and Ethel’s demise. I found the poor dried out petrified things in the sliding glass door track. Very unfortunate, but once again, Darren celebrated that day.

So, what does one do after experiencing a tragic loss like Fred and Ethel? You get FROGS of course! I had cool fire bellied frogs, I had cool blue frogs and I had a REALLY cool Dumpy Frog too. Yes, there are such things as Dumpy frogs…Google it! Now frogs, as everyone knows like bugs. In particular meal worms and LOTS of crickets. My Dumpy frog was a little bit persnickety, and preferred to be hand fed, which I gladly did. Well, one day, I was at work and I remembered that I had forgotten to feed my frog babies. So I quickly call Darren, who was off that day and asked him to feed them.

Darren: “Ok, if you insist. Where’s the food?”
Me: “It’s under the tank.”
Darren: “Judes, there’s a container of crickets under the tank, where’s the frog food?”
Me: “THAT IS the frog food. Just give them a few. Gotta run. Love ya!” Click….

I come home from work later that evening and happen to glance over to my beloved frogs and my Dumpy frog looked a little odd. He was just sitting there, looking kind of, well, weird. I think to myself, “hmmm, unusual, but hell, he’s probably having a great dream about girl frogs.”

The next morning I get up and while making the coffee I look over at my beloved Dumpy frog. GASP… he is upside down floating in his little pond and looking a little ridged too! The conversation then took a turn for the worse at this point.

Me: “Darren! Darren, come quick! My frog! What happened to my frog?” Darren runs into the room and has this wide eyed deer in the headlight look. “Darren, what the hell did you do to my FROG?”

Darren: “Judes, what the hell was I supposed to do? The fucking frog attacked me!”

Me: “What?!? The damn thing is smaller than a golf ball, how in the hell could it attack you?”

Darren: “Well Judes, as soon as I opened up the tank to give them the bugs, they came hopping out from everywhere and that frog mistook my finger for a bug and chomped down on it!”

Me: “yea, you’re supposed to hand feed the Dumpy frog.”

Darren: “You didn’t fucking tell me that you hand fed the fucking frog. You left THAT fucking detail out!”

Me: “Yea, well that doesn’t explain why my frog is dead. What did you do to it?”

Darren: “I wasn’t expecting the little fucker to chomp down on my finger and I yanked my hand out of the tank with the frog still on my finger. He flung across the room and hit the window. I didn’t think he got hurt or anything. He was hoping like crazy when I tried to catch him and get him back in the tank.”

Me: “You flung my defenseless frog from across the room so hard that it slams upside a window and you DIDN’T think it got hurt? Darren, you probably gave him a concussion or something!”

Darren: “Well it serves the little fucker right. If it couldn’t tell the difference between my finger and a bug then it deserved to die.”

Darren didn’t celebrate this day. May my little Dumpy frog rest in peace in little froggie heaven. *sniff*

We have managed to have many other pets since and they all lived a very happy, healthy and safe life with us until they decided to move on to heavenly pastures. I’ve learned over the years, however, that the survival rate for aquatic animals is not very high in our household. Right now as I type this, there is a poor beta fish and hermit crab suffering despite my eldest tater tot telling me that they are supposed to look fuzzy because they are “molting”. I hope that he comes to grip with reality soon!

Neurosis

So if you have taken the time to actually read my blog, you might have come across the List of 25 things about me. You might think to yourself is she really THAT neurotic? Answer: YES! I blame most of my neurosis on my up bringing and interesting childhood experiences.

So,you might ask yourself, what the heck is the deal with you and clowns? Well it's quite simple really. When I was little, I was petrified of thunderstorms and lightening. (It might have been when my Mom and I got stuck on the highway and we had to abandon the car and run into a Denny's Bathroom as a tornado literally headed towards us). Anyway, when I was little, a really bad summer thunderstorm blew in late one night. Every time it lightening outside, I could see my entire room light up. Well, it just so happened that I actually liked clowns when I was little and had quite the collection of them. Earlier in the evening, I had placed this clown with a really weird smile on my dresser facing my cute little pink princess canopy bed. Every time the lightening flashed I swear to god I could see that stupid clown doll inch it's way towards me. I got over the fear of storms. In fact, now, I LOVE storms. Clowns however, still creep me out.

So what's up with the Snoopy thing? Well my response to you would be that Snoopy is a fucking pervert in a costume! Here's some advice to anyone who has the misfortune of aspiring to dress up in a Snoopy costume for a living: DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT sneak up behind 4 yr old little girls, tap them on the shoulder causing her to literally pee her pants in horror when she turns around and sees you! Yes, that is why I don't care for Snoopy. My poor mother had to whisk me out of the Dolly Madison bread store, as I was screaming bloody murder, throw me in the car and drive away from the store before I could even THINK of calming down. Snoopy sucks ok?!?!

By now, I'm sure, you are at the edge of your seats wanting to know why I hate geese. *sigh* Here goes.... When I was 6 years old, we lived close to a farm with horse stables. On the weekends, they would let the little kids ride the ponies for free. Well, my parents thought cool, if it's free, then it fits our budget, get the kid and let's go. Well it all started out great. I got to ride a really nice pony and thought to myself "Hey, I want a pony now. This is neato." The ride ended and the stable dude comes over and helps me off the pony and I proclaim "Mom, I want to learn to ride ponies. I want a pony." My parents started talking to the stable dude and with my attention span and the love of animals, I see this flock of geese. I run up to the flock and this goose with an attitude charges at me hissing, huffin' and puffin' and flapping it's nappy wings at me. Now, when faced with the fight or flee situation at the tender age of 6, I quickly assessed the situation and thought this goose is pissed. My instinct was to flee. So off I go running and this psycho goose chases me into a corner. Again, I let out the scream of terror, thinking, "hey, it worked the last time and as a bonus, I didn't pee on myself!" I'm thinking my parents would come to my rescue right? Nope, they just stood there laughing as that goose was hissing and pecking at me. The stable dude had to kick the stupid thing away from me and I ran to the car crying my eyeballs out. We never went back to the farm or stables after that and I never wanted a pony after that either. (Boy, did my parent's luck out on that one or what?)

So, there you have it. Justifiable reasons as to why I don't care for some things. Now I ask you, Does this make me crazy or what? I know it explains a lot doesn't it? HA!

I just LOVE this!