(I have three ferrets, all due for a checkup. First ferret, fine but getting old. Second ferret, perfect health. When the vet picks up the third and starts feeling his little fuzzy abdomen, his face falls.)

Vet: “Hmm. Have you noticed that he’s got quite a large lump here? In his abdomen?”

Me: “No, I had no idea.”

Vet: “Okay. Hm. So, it seems very close to his prostate, maybe even on his prostate, so that’s quite worrying. It’s really large; are you sure you haven’t felt it before?”

Me: *starting to freak out a little bit* “No, definitely not.”

Vet: “Okay, well, I’m going to take him out the back and we’ll do a little ultrasound. Don’t panic; there’s a good chance it could be something benign, and if it isn’t, we have options, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

(I sit in the consulting room for ten minutes, wringing my hands, wondering if one of my pets has cancerous tumours and how I couldn’t have noticed. The vet comes back, still holding my ferret.)

Vet: *putting my ferret down on the examination table* “Okay, so, we did an ultrasound, and we’re at a little bit of a loss. It doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen, so we’re going to have to either biopsy or…”

(He trails off, as my ferret has toddled over to the sink and started urinating. It goes on for a very long time.)

Me: “Oh, geez, I’m sorry! He’s never done that before.”

Vet: “Well, better there than on the table, right?”

(He pauses, realisation dawning on him. He picks up my ferret once he’s finished his business, and feels the abdomen again.)

Vet: “So. Uh. This is a little awkward, but good news! He doesn’t have a tumour.”

(It turns out, my little boy was too polite to pee on a person or on the examination table, even while people were touching and scanning his large and very full bladder. They didn’t charge me for the ultrasound.)

(I work at a food stand in a theme park located in a coastal city. There are sea birds everywhere, mostly near sundown, for reasons that will soon become clear.)

Me: “There you go, ma’am: a caesar salad with no cheese.”

Customer: “Thank you, dear. I have to ask. Why are there so many gulls here? We are not that close to the sea!” *feeds her croutons to one of them*

Me: *stares at the bird, then at her*

Customer: *realizing and turning red* “Oh… So, that’s why.”

(I am a volunteer at an animal shelter and one of my duties is showing animals to potential adopters. A couple with a young adult son comes in to pick a dog and they have several questions.)

Mother: “I have a question about the female dogs.”

Me: “Okay.”

Mother: “My son said that after they get spayed, they don’t… bleed anymore?”

Me: “Yes, that’s correct.”

Mother: “So, they get their periods, but they don’t bleed during them?”

Me: *mentally facepalming that a woman knows so little about female anatomy* “No, it means the dog has no bleeding, no heat cycle, or period, if you will. Nothing.”

Mother: “Oh, okay!”

(The family chooses a dog and we take her outside so they can get to know her. As we are walking out…)

Father: “Is it true that the dogs don’t get periods after they are fixed?”

(I almost feel bad submitting this story because they seemed like very nice people and I hope they were able to adopt a dog from the shelter, but I am still confused that two adults needed their son to teach them that an animal with no reproductive organs also has no reproductive functions. And what is having a period without bleeding? That sounds like having a headache but with no pain.)

Dog: *starts barking at the window*

Stepdad: “What’s he barking at?”

Other Dogs: *start going wild*

Stepdad: “Everyone, SHUT UP!”

Dogs: *goes silent*

Stepdad: “What were they barking at?”

Stepbrother: “[First Dog] saw a rabbit, and the other two just copied him.”

Stepdad: “Nutty dogs.”

Dog: *starts going nuts*

Stepbrother: “Now there’s a cat outside… The cat is stalking the rabbit. The rabbit took off, and now the cat’s looking disappointed.”

Stepdad: “Stupid cat should have caught him when she had the chance.”

(I am traveling to visit family for a belated holiday as we were spread across the country during the actual holidays. Due to unexpected difficulties, I find myself traveling with five companions, so I choose to take a plane rather than drive across the country. I book online so I can read all requirements fully, as this is my first time flying, let alone with every member of my household. I am incredibly nervous so, per directions on the form, I fill in everyone’s names exactly how their paperwork displays it. This is the rather amusing discussion that takes place when checking in.)

Me: “Hi. I need to check in for my flight to [Location]. Is it still scheduled to leave on time?”

Booking Agent: “As of right now it is, but there is some expected weather so listen to the announcements just in case. Can I get your reservation, please?”

(I hand her my paperwork and wait as she pulls it up, frowns at the screen, does a lot of typing and clicking, frowns some more, and then prints out the tickets.)

Booking Agent: *folding multiple tickets together* “That will be [price eight times the amount I had been quoted online]. Do you want that charged to the payment method you arranged?”

Me: “Wait! What? No, I was quoted [price] online; how did it go up so much?! I don’t have that kind of spare cash on that card, anyway!”

(I am freaking out inside and scared I will miss the get-together as I had not planned over $8,000 just for the flights, let alone hotels and everything else.)

Booking Agent: “You booked tickets for [My Name], L. Milo Hamilton, Walter E. Disney, Ernest T. Bass, Bertram T. Cates, and Fredrick II, correct?”

Me: “Yes, myself and five companions. That is what I believe your website describes them as, anyway.”

Booking Agent: “Well, clearly, there was a mistake while you were booking your tickets; you booked one flight for one person with five animals. You need six tickets as you are six people.”

Me: *looking at the agent, absolutely bewildered* “Ma’am, do you really believe I am flying with five people named after: a famous — and now deceased — sports announcer, the father of Mickey Mouse, two fictional characters from the early 1960s, and what is widely proclaimed to be the last king of Austria? I think you need to reconsider that. Otherwise, I will soon be the richest person alive, as I have either created time-travel or mastered cloning.”

Booking Agent: “People name their kids random names all the time.”

Me: “Please, take a moment and look at the paperwork I handed you. It has proof that those five ‘people’ are actually two cats, a ten-pound dog, and two sixty-pound dogs.”

Booking Agent: *looks at paperwork for the first time, pauses, eyes widen, lots of typing and then the sound of a shredder* “Your price is [price I was originally quoted] and it will be charged to your form of payment set up online. Please take your pets to the agent beside the gate for boarding.”

(I headed off to the sound of lots of suppressed giggling from the line behind me and a wave of relief at the enormous price being dropped to what I had budgeted for.)