Pets behaving badly

Transcript from an actual mobile telephone call:
“Ahhh, if you’re coming home, don’t use the front door. One of the animals made a mess in front of it.”
“What, crap, vomit?”
“Ahhh, that I don’t know.”
OK, the question is like asking a bachelor to chance a baby’s diaper.
But you gotta know what you’re walking into. Especially with pets.
Feenst has been here all of about two weeks and has been witness to every sorry-assed, disgusting, urpy detail of pet ownership.
Second day here, Scully decided to eat something she shouldn’t in the yard. A snail. And had a massive attack of diarrhea in her kennel.
Let’s just say uncooked escargot is a smell best left for wide open – and well-ventilated – spaces.
Between them, I think the cats have puked at least a half-dozen times. Hairballs, whatever.
Then there’s the cat’s ability to open doors and drawers.
“I was coming out of the bathroom and Indy was walking around and every cabinet door in the kitchen was open,” he said.
“Yeah, they both think it’s fun.”
I’m sure I’ve put him off pet ownership. For a very long time.
Transcript from another conversation:
“Did you know that one of your cats got in your bathroom and ripped up a roll of toilet paper?”
“I didn’t. Was it your bathroom?”
“No, yours. That’s what’s so weird. I saw that the door was open and looked in, and the cat had opened the cabinet door and got a roll of toilet paper out and just destroyed it.”
Yep, sounds like my cats.
New roll of toilet paper, individually wrapped.
Bastards kicked the shit out of it.
“At least when I let the dogs out, they go out and don’t do anything,” he said.
In a comforting voice. But one not seduced to actually get a pet.


feenst said...

Pets are definitely not in my short-term plans.