A coworker of mine is cleaning the reptile habitats in the store. He notices one of the chameleons is starting to get a little big for its habitat, but there’s not much we can do to make it more comfortable as it grows.

Instead, he decides to give it a chance to stretch its legs a little, taking it out of the terrarium and letting it climb around his shirt as he goes about his duties.

I’m on the register and don’t usually get to interact with the animals, so I ask if I can hold it for a while. He brings it over and I let it climb onto my hand.

As I’m letting it crawl along my arms and hands, a woman comes up to check out. I manage to get a hand free to ring her items up, and the chameleon starts climbing across my chest.

I make a comment to my coworker about how the chameleon’s enjoying being able to explore a little, and the woman laughs.

Customer: “He’s thinking, ‘Look at these mountains’!”

We all started laughing. I tried to keep from shaking too much, as the chameleon was, indeed, on my breasts.

The chameleon continued to crawl all over me, and at one point, I needed to transfer it from one hand to the other again, but this time it decides it was perfectly comfortable half on one hand, half on the other.

It had a pretty good grip on both hands, and I didn’t want to risk pulling away too hard, lest I injure it, so I wound up sitting for a minute with no hands, and we all started laughing again.

Eventually, it decided which hand it wanted to be on, and I passed it back to my coworker so I could finish ringing the woman up. Definitely one of the most memorable encounters I’ve had at this job.

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My dad has always helped make sure our pets are financially cared for. As children, he always told us that if we get a pet we are accepting the responsibility to care for them no matter what happens. When we all grow up and move out my dad inherits the cat who has been there for over ten years. Now that the cat is sixteen years old, my dad has passed on care of the house and cat to me. About two weeks ago, he asked me about my twelve-year-old chihuahua.

Dad: “How is [Dog]? I’ve noticed you haven’t borrowed any money for her to go to the vet lately.”

Me: “Oh, she’s good. She should probably see the vet for her heart murmur, though.”

Dad: “Why haven’t you done that? Money is no excuse. When you get a pet, you take responsibility for that pet.”

Me: “Well, with my car breaking down and you loaning me the money for that and for the house, I was trying to pay you back before I asked for more.” 

Dad: “I’m well aware of how much you owe me, but you owe it to her to make sure she sees the vet.”

Me: “I, uh… Yes, sir. Thanks.”

Today, I get a card from the vet saying it’s time for my dog’s yearly vet appointment along with her kitty brother. I owned two cats before moving in. As a bad pet parent, I accidentally waited too long and did not get my female fixed before she, ahem, “multiplied,” and I kept one of her kittens. With the sixteen-year-old, I now have three cats; all are now fixed.

Me: *To Dad* “Hey, remember how we talked about the vet the other day for [Dog]? Well, I just got a card saying that she and [Young Male Cat] are due for checkups. Will you help me pay for them?”

Dad: “Sure. It’s [Vet], right? They’re used to how we do things.”

Usually, my sisters or I go to the vet and my dad pays over the phone.

Me: “Yup. Oh, and when is [Old Male Cat] due for his next checkup?”

Dad: “I’d have to look it up. I’m a bad pet parent and don’t practice what I preach.”

Me: “Okay, well, I’ll practice what you preach, then. I can plan on taking [Older Male Cat] and [Momma Cat] together in about six months. That way, it’s two pets twice a year.” 

Dad: “Perfect.”

He never wanted pets, which did cause him to be incredibly strict on the whole “take care of your pet” thing; if we didn’t feed them and treat them right, they got new homes. It sounds harsh, but we learned real quickly that he had no problem giving animals to “other children willing to appreciate their pets,” and we’ve always made sure our pets were cared for in homes, not shelters.

I was inspired by this story to recount my own encounter with unwitting stage fauna.

Some years ago, I was in a summer production of The Merry Wives of Windsor in an outdoor venue. This venue was near a pond and had various birds wandering about. This included a few chickens and roosters.

In a particular scene, a washing basket was onstage at the beginning of a scene. As the actors went about the scene, they noticed they were getting more laughs than usual but thought nothing more than how responsive the audience was. As they got closer to the climax of the scene, they were getting more and more laughs and titters, so they amped up their energy.

In the climax of the scene, Falstaff had to hide in a panic and threw himself into the washing basket…

…to be encountered with a face full of enraged chicken, whose nice cosy resting spot had been disturbed by an actor almost landing on her. Apparently, the hen had been poking her head out of the basket, enjoying the show, to the amusement of the audience, without the actors noticing. The poor chicken took flight, squawking, through the audience, emptying herself on the actor as a final act of revenge. After a momentary pause, during which everyone attempted to pull themselves together, the show resumed. Poor Falstaff had to have a quick costume change.

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This story is part of our Best Of September 2020 roundup!

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I’ve worked with several rescue dogs over the years and have had a lot of negative experiences with other dog owners, especially working with reactive dogs. When I started a business working with dogs, I braced for these experiences to become commonplace.

They have not. I have a few complaints about some of the owners I have worked with, but this little story isn’t about those.

I am out with my favourite dog, an incredibly friendly, energetic, and happy cocker spaniel who I’ll call Miss Fluff. I’ve taken Miss Fluff to a park and she’s desperate for me to get the ball out and play with her. She’s glued to my feet as I do so — it’s a ball on a rope — and neither of us see the newcomer come around the corner until he’s joined her: a lovely, big chocolate lab, curious about the ball. Miss Fluff doesn’t care about him, only the ball.

The owners turn the corner, see us, and IMMEDIATELY call him off. He listens, but I call over that she’s friendly and they give him permission to come back over.

Me: “Will he chase the ball if I throw it for her?”

Miss Fluff is positively vibrating with excitement.

Owner: “Oh, yes. We’ll get out of your hair; don’t worry.”

Me: “Well, I was wondering if we should let them have a little race?”

Owner: “Oh, he’ll win. He’s much bigger than her and he loves to play fetch!”

So, to find out, I threw the ball. It went soaring across the field and Miss Fluff was after it like a shot, the lab hard on her tail. It was close, but she snatched the ball up ahead of him! The lab was having none of it, and he grabbed the end of the rope, and they happily ran back carrying it together.

The other owner and I laughed and agreed to call it a draw, before he went on and the lab obediently followed when called. Sadly, I’ve never seen them again in that area, but the memory still makes me smile, and moments like that have made up for the more inconsiderate and inattentive owners!

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for September 2020!

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When I am ten years old, I beg my mom for a cat and she finally relents. We bring home the cutest but fiercest black and white girl. Ten years later, my live-in boyfriend at the time and I are driving her back from visiting my parents for the holidays and she is meowing the entire way with me answering her with small reassurances. He is so amused by me having a conversation with a cat, commenting on how she doesn’t understand me anyway.

A few years after that, she passes. There are many tears from both of us, but we eventually move on, and he gets me another cat who turns out to be an absolute daddy’s girl, while he gets himself a male cat.

I am walking by his office when I hear the following conversation with “the other woman” in his life.

Cat: “Meow.”

Fiance: “Yeah, well, she told you not to do that.”

Cat: “Meoooow.”

Fiance: “Fine, I’ll talk to her about feeding you on time. I have to go get something. You aren’t going to steal my chair, are you?”

Cat: “Mew?”

Fiance: “I am going to have to pick you up if you do.”

Cat: *Indignantly* “Meow!”

Fiance: “Okay. I will be right back.”

I walked away laughing hysterically before he could see me.

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