My husband and I are searching for my lost cat, who escaped a few days ago. I’ve done what people recommend like keeping food out, putting his litter box outside, and putting out blankets and clothes with mine and his scent on them. Nothing has worked; all I have attracted have been other cats and some mischievous raccoons. 

I also took to our neighborhood Facebook page. People claim to have seen him here and there, and the latest report was super early in the morning around the neighborhood near the elementary school five minutes down the street. Great.

It’s a weekday, and parents are starting to drop off their kids for the morning. Next to the school is the housing office, so we park our car there and get to searching, cans of wet cat food in hand. 

For the early morning drop-off, two military police officers are nearby, and we approach to ask for help.

Me: “Good morning!”

Officer #1: “Morning!”

Me: “You haven’t seen a black and white cat around here, have you?”

Officer #2: *Immediately perking up* “A cat?”

Me: “Yes.”

Officer #2: *Excitedly* “Is he a friendly cat?”

[Officer #1] shakes his head and puts his face in his hands.

Me: “He is very friendly. He ran off a few days ago, and someone told me they think they saw him around here.”

My husband explains more of the situation.

Officer #1: “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anything.”

Officer #2: *Takes out a pen and paper* “Okay, give me your name and phone number. I’ll keep an eye out. Because if there’s a cat around here—” *looks at us with complete seriousness* “—I guarantee, I am going to pet it.”

Officer #1: *Sighs and shakes his head again* “Dude, what is it with you and cats?”

Officer #2: *Laughs and ignores him* “I promise you, if I see him, I’ll let you guys know and I’ll keep an eye out! I love cats. There has not been a stray cat around here that I haven’t tried to pet.”

We laughed, thanked him, and moved on. We didn’t end up finding my cat yet (still looking as I’m writing this), but we did get a call from the guy laughing saying he got a report of a “suspicious cat” and was wondering if that was us. It wasn’t, but it’s nice to know someone out there is keeping a lookout!

This story reminds me of the time I had an escalated customer when I was a customer service representative. The customer was getting angrier and angrier because I was following policy.

A bird had gotten into the building, and it swooped by a supervisor. They were apparently scared of birds and screamed.

I was close enough that my customer heard it and immediately calmed down!

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My mother recently got a puppy, and most of said puppy’s toys and accessories are pink. It wasn’t by design; they just bought her a pink collar and lead, and then my mother ended up just associating her with pink, so a lot of things that dog has are pink.

Her boyfriend refused to take the puppy out for walks until we got a different colour lead, because, and I quote:

Mother’s Boyfriend: “People will see me and think I’m gay.”

Me: “Do you seriously think that people will assume you’re homosexual purely because you’re walking a dog with a pink collar?”

Mother’s Boyfriend: “Yes!”

Me: “And why would that be such a devastating assumption?”

Mother’s Boyfriend: “It would be humiliating for strangers to think I like c**k when I don’t! It isn’t me who’s being unreasonable; it’s society!”

I gave up trying to make him see sense.

So, because this grown man in his fifties is afraid that strangers might think he’s anything but a heterosexual, the entire family uses one lead to take the dog on walks, and he has his own special black manly one.

Do you want to hear another story about Peter, the dedicated police employee who thinks differently? 

This takes place after a long day working as a courier. Peter walks into the office as usual to read his emails. Remember, to get through to Peter, you really need to speak English. He will reply in English, anyway.

Peter: “Today I take hitchhiker.”

This is strictly forbidden, for all sorts of reasons — not least, security.

Me: “Peter! What, why?”

Peter: “Lost. Needed help.”

Me: “You know you are not allowed to do this!”

Peter: “Exceptions. Name Bob.”

I’m panicking. What if the public finds that we dropped off a confused hitchhiker, and they got hurt?

Me: “I don’t care what his name… Where? “

Peter: “[Tiny Village].”

Me: “Where did you leave them?”

Peter: “Wait. I get Bob.”

What?!

He leaves, grabbing the keys to the van, for some reason. I pick up the phone to report this to senior management. Peter comes back carrying in his arms… a BORDER COLLIE.

Peter: *With a poker face* “Call [Officer who speaks sign language].”

Me: “Peter, is this the hitchhiker?”

Peter: “Call. Now.”

I get the police officer on video chat. She has been known to interpret for Peter if it is complicated. Meanwhile, this happy pooch just loves all the attention.

Officer: “Hi. How can I help?”

Me: “Please find out why he has brought a dog into this police station.”

They begin signing.

Officer: “He saw the dog running along [Remote Road closed in winter]. As you can see, the dog is very well-groomed, so he obviously isn’t a stray. Peter thinks somebody is missing a member of their family. He couldn’t leave the dog with a vet because he can’t explain it in German, so he brought the dog back here.”

A senior police officer walks in.

Senior Officer: *Ignoring the dog* “Peter, are you allowed to pick up hitchhikers?”

Me: “It… it isn’t what it seems. I’ll explain later.”

The senior officer leaves.

Me: “So, lost dog. Has he had any water?”

Officer: “No, he didn’t give him any water.”

Me: “He needs to drink. You drove 250 km without—”

Officer: “Wait… He had a Coke Zero and a burger of some sort… A Big Mac. With bacon.”

Me: “I… Right. Border collie, fast food, and fizzy drink. He said the, err, ‘hitchhiker’ was called Bob?”

Officer: “Yes, that’s right.”

Peter, now giving the dog belly rubs, points to the collar.

Peter: “Look, Bob.”

Officer: “Peter says his cousin, last name Bahn, has a dog called Otto. Wait, why would you call a dog Otto? Oh… Autobahn. Very good.”

Me: “…Thank you for rescuing the dog. I will call a vet to scan the microchip.”

Officer: “The K9 unit might be interested.”

Me: “We can’t take somebody’s family pet as a sniffer dog!”

Officer: “No… they could also scan the microchip quicker than a vet. Take some pictures for our social media, too.”

Me: “You’re an adventure, Peter.”

K9 came in ten minutes, checked the microchip, and identified his owner. It turned out that Bob was a sheepdog. His owner, very relieved, was unavailable that night, so Bob had a leftover steak dinner from the canteen and spent the night in Peter’s apartment. He was collected the next day. Bob is now on Peter’s phone background.

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One night, I stopped by a diner after work at about 10:00 pm. I was seated at the table and the waitress had taken my order. I heard a strange sound overhead, and the next thing I knew, I was covered in crumbled ceiling tile and pissed-off raccoons.

I screamed and started flailing. The raccoons screamed back. I got a lot of little claw marks and a few bites as they tried to get safely off of me without letting me pry them off.

I managed to get them off of me, and one of the chefs and the waitress chased them out the front door.

Nervously, the chef asked me if I still wanted my order and offered to comp it. I ate, and it was okay.

I got a rabies vaccine after, just in case.