(My mother and I rescue a little sparrow that fell from the nest. After much talking about it, she keeps insisting that we have to release it as soon as possible, even though I’d like to wait a bit to make sure he grows strong and healthy enough. After much insistence on her part, we go to a nearby park and release the little guy. The very next day, this conversation happens:)

Mother: “Don’t you feel bad about him?”

Me: “What?”

Mother: “The little birdie. I miss him. Why did we release him?”

Me: “You were the one who kept insisting on it, Mom.”

Mother: “Yes, but we really shouldn’t have. What if some cat finds him? I don’t want to think about that. We should take him back.”

Me: “Good luck with that.”

Mother: “You’re coming with me.”

Me: “Wait, what?”

Mother: “We’re going to the park and search for him.”

Me: “Mom, it was a sparrow. A normal sparrow. There’s hundreds of them at the park at any given time, and they probably fly all around the city. It’s impossible to find that one.”

Mother: “No, we’re going to get him back. You released him; it’s your responsibility!”

Me: “I only did it because you kept asking me to do it!”

Mother: “You are just being lazy. Stop whining and come with me.”

(In the end, we spent three hours roaming the park, while she kept asking anyone passing by if they had “seen a little bird”, much to their amusement. Obviously, the bird never came back.)

(My husband and I are relaxing at home, when he snaps shut the book he was reading. Our cat leaps about a foot in the air and looks around with eyes wide. She has a tendency to get easily spooked.)

Me: “Haha, poor little dum-dum. Awww. Were you scared? You’re way too anxious. You need to chill out.”

(I pet her to comfort her, and then walk over to get myself a drink from a glass. As I’m taking a sip, the doorbell rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin, my arm jerking reflexively and tossing the entire glass of water into my own face.)

Husband: *stifling laughter and petting our cat* “And that’s what we call karma, [Cat].”

(I work in a doggy daycare where we have three separate playrooms for group playtime, with the dogs separated by size into small and big play areas. We also all carry walkie-talkies, in case whoever is supervising playtime needs anything. I am in the small playtime area and a coworker is in the big one when this happens:)

Coworker: *over walkie-talkie* “Um… is [Dog]’s dad Jewish?”

(I immediately grab my walkie and put it to my ear to hear the rest of this.)

Senior Associate: *confused* “Yeah…why?”

Coworker: “Well, she just pooped out a yarmulke…”

(Approximately ten minutes of radio silence follows as everyone lapses into hysterics. From the small playroom I have a clear view into the daycare lobby and main office, and I can see the senior associate, assistant manager, and manager all doubled over laughing. When the laughter eventually subsides, the senior associate goes to the big playroom to check on [Dog], who is totally fine, and collect the yarmulke which, miraculously, is still in one piece. As no one on staff that day is Jewish, no one knows how important a yarmulke is so the management doesn’t feel comfortable throwing it in the garbage and instead puts it into a plastic bag. Later on, when [Dog]’s dad comes to pick her up, everyone immediately congregates in the lobby to watch his reaction. Being a yellow lab, [Dog] is well known for her nutty antics, so her dad just rolls his eyes and smiles when he sees all of us grinning.)

Dog’s Dad: “All right, what did she do this time?”

Senior Associate: *trying desperately to keep a straight face* “Mr. [Last Name] are you… um… are you perhaps missing a yarmulke?”

Dog’s Dad: *surprised* “Yeah, how did you—” *eyes widen in realization* “No…”

Senior Associate: “Well, during camp today, [Dog] kind of…”

Dog’s Dad: “PLEASE don’t tell me she threw up my yarmulke!”

Senior Associate: “I can honestly say she did not throw up the yarmulke.”

Dog’s Dad: *confused for a moment, then eyes bulging in horror* “NO…”

Senior Associate: “Well, it’s still in one piece and we saved it in a bag in case you—”

Dog’s Dad: *shaking his head* “NO.”

Senior Associate: “Okay, well, is there a special way to dispose of—”

Dog’s Dad: “NO.”

([Dog], of course, couldn’t care less about any of this as her dad, still shaking his head, pays for the day and starts to leave.)

Dog’s Dad: “[Dog], I cannot BELIEVE you!”

Me: “Well, you gotta figure God has a sense of humor.”

([Dog’s Dad]’s head whips up to stare at me for a moment before he bursts out laughing.)

Dog’s Dad: “You know what? You’re right. And ‘dog’ is ‘God’ spelled backwards; they are His most beloved creatures.”

Me: “And besides, the threads could’ve tangled up her intestines really badly. At least she’s okay.”

Dog’s Dad: *still smiling* “You’re right. I’m just grateful she’s okay. But seriously, [Dog], give me a break!”

(My dog has died before my shift. I’m noticeably upset and one of the managers asks me:)

Manager: “[Me], whatever is the matter?”

Me: “My dog died on Saturday.”

Manager: “Oh, and you can’t find a good taxidermist?”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Manager: “To preserve it. I do it with all my pets. My last cat is a footrest.”

(I felt physically sick and ran to the toilets to throw up. When I got back to the staff room, another manager was there looking really sympathetic. He sent me home and apologised for the other manager’s behaviour. What’s worse was the first manager later texted me several links to taxidermy websites, and even came over to my house. My mum threw a cooking pan at him. When I got back to work, I heard he was on probation for harassing staff out of hours.)

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Death

(I have a cat, a 50-gallon saltwater aquarium, and a 5-gallon aquarium containing only a single betta fish, who is the pride of my fish collection. A family emergency requires me to be away from home unexpectedly for a month, so I call in what I think is a trusted friend to watch my pets and my house for me while I’m away. On my way home, I get a text from said friend.)

Friend: “I got you a surprise! I can’t wait until you see it when you get back!”

(I arrive back at home and find, to my horror, that my house is trashed, my cat is missing, the heater to the saltwater aquarium has been unplugged, and most of the fish have subsequently died in the cold winter weather. My betta is dead and there is another one in his tank that has badly shredded fins, indicating that they have fought to the death. Furious, and frantically searching for my cat, I call my friend over.)

Me: “What the h*** happened?! Most of my fish are dead and my cat is missing!”

Friend: “What are you talking about? Your pets are fine.”

Me: “Why is the heater to the saltwater tank unplugged?!”

Friend: “The water felt too warm, so I thought I’d let it cool down a little so they don’t cook to death.”

Me: “They’re tropical fish! The house is cold! The water was just right for them!”

(I drag her over to the betta tank.)

Me: “And what is this?!”

Friend: “That’s your surprise! The tank looked so empty with only one fish in it, so I got him a friend!”

Me: “They’re called fighting fish for a reason! They don’t make friends! You just killed my favorite fish! And where’s my cat?!”

Friend: “I thought you said you re-homed the cat?”

Me: “No, I said the cat was somewhere around the home! She should be here, but she’s not!”

Friend: “Well, I’m so sorry you weren’t clear about that. But you know what? I don’t have to sit here and take you yelling at me, when all I did was try to help you take better care of your pets. I’m leaving, and don’t ever call me for help again!”

Me: “Oh, trust me, I won’t. I value my pets’ lives too much!”

(I couldn’t save the rest of my saltwater fish, as they were all too sickly from the negligent care and died while I tried to rehabilitate them. The other betta I did manage to save, though once its fins started to grow back I realized that it was the ugliest colored fish I’d ever seen. As horrible as it may sound, I couldn’t help but wish that my fish had been the winner. I also found out from a mutual friend that my house had been trashed because she’d been throwing weekly parties without telling me, and that no one thought to call me because she led them to believe I’d given her permission. I also found out that my cat had escaped the house during one of the parties to get away from the noise. Fortunately, my neighbors had found her pleading to come inside during a snowstorm and were taking care of her until I got home, so I got her back. As for my “friend”, we never speak to each other anymore, and quite frankly, I’m happy for that.)