She’d Rather Be Cat-atonic

, , | Friendly | December 19, 2017

(My dog has recently had puppies. We have been selling them throughout the week.)

Woman: “So, how do I know what it wants?”

Me: “It should tell you.”

Woman: “But they don’t speak!”

Me: “True, but you can train them to let you know if something is wrong or needed. Even if you don’t, you will eventually learn how to attract each others attention, like an unspoken language.”

Woman: “I don’t like the sound of that. It sounds like something a crazy pet owner would say. I don’t want one now.” *leaves*

(I saw her a month later taking her new cat to the vet. She was really smug about how it didn’t matter what they both did, as long as the cat was fed it would completely ignore her, and she it. Makes me wonder why she even wanted a pet.)


, , , | Working | December 16, 2017

(My family and I just recently moved from Virginia to Hawaii, which means a six hour time difference. Lately I’ve been getting calls from my old area code and they’re never the same number twice. I assume they are telemarketers since they never leave a voicemail. I haven’t been able to answer one because they also call between four and six am. This morning the ringing wakes me up.)

Caller: “Hello! I’m looking for Apollo [Last Name]; is he available?”

Me: “…that’s my dog’s name.”

(I got another call about an hour later but I slept through it again. I looked the numbers up and each one is for a different home realtor office and we do have our house for sale. How they got my dog’s name, I’m not sure.)

Dogs Don’t Deserve Us

, , , , , | Friendly | December 16, 2017

(My mom’s friend says she is coming to the USA with her mother; she lives in a foreign country. My mom offers our house as a place to stay. She makes sure to warn her that we have a big dog, as many people are afraid of them. Apparently, her mother is afraid of dogs but they decide to stay here, anyway, because it’s free. This is what happens when they arrive at our house.)

Me: *opens door* “Hello!”

(Our dog walks over, his tail wagging, and my friend’s mom screams and HITS him with her purse. My smile fades and is replaced with a death glare.)

Friend’s Mom: “Get it away from me!”

(I take several deep breaths and hold myself back.)

Friend’s Mom: “Hurry!”

Me: *walks out*

(You are our guest. You chose to stay in our house. Respect our family — pets included — and our house. If you’re scared of dogs, then go pay for a hotel. Don’t subject the innocent animal to being locked in a room when you’re around. Yes, this happened, because apparently my friend’s mom’s feelings matter more than my dog does. Just for all the dog lovers out there, he was fine after the attack. I gave him some treats and a nice belly rub. Hopefully, they won’t stay for too long.)

Behaving Wildly Inappropriately

, , , , | Right | December 13, 2017

(I work at a small tourist attraction as part of the steam train crew. We stop for a few minutes so the visitors can see inside the engine and find out a bit of history of tree logging over 100 years ago. Where we stop is a small clearing in the forest. There are small, native, flightless birds walking around. The birds are wild; they are not pets or anything like it.)

Customer: “Is that a wild bird?”

Me: *about the 1000th time I’ve answered this question this week* “No, it’s only mildly upset.”

Finally Got Your Goat

, , , , , | Friendly | December 12, 2017

(We farm goats. Sometimes first-time nanny goats have twins, and sometimes they reject one of the twins. When this happens, we have to bottle-feed the rejected kid. The first few weeks, it’s pretty much a 24/7 proposition, but not one that’s too hard to take as kids are mobile pretty much from the get-go, and small enough to be portable. It also helps that they’re adorable. Rather than cancel a camping trip, I take a red-brown female kid trailer-camping with my family.)

Campers #1, #2, and #3: *all separate occasions* “What kind of a dog is that?”

Me: “She’s not a dog; she’s a goat. I’m bottle-raising her.”

(Reactions range from “cool!” to “that’s stupid,” and I quickly grow weary of folk who can’t tell a goat from a dog.)

Camper #4: “What kind of a dog is that?”

Me: “She’s a Chupacabra-doodle.”

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