Hopefully The Guest Is A Good Boy

, , , | Right | March 12, 2021

I am working the front desk at a hotel one night when I have a man in his fifties come in to get a room for the night. I ask him how many beds he needs, and I ask for some other preferences.

Guest: “King bed, please, and I have a guest.”

Me: “Okay, no worries!”

I hand him the keys and give him the typical information about the hotel and he walks away. About an hour later, he comes back by the desk and has a dog with him.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, can I get you to fill out a pet policy for me? I wasn’t aware you had a dog with you at check-in and we have a $50 pet fee.”


The man filled out the pet policy and walked away in a huff. Next time, I’ll make sure to ask what species of guest people are bringing with them.

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What Planet Did These Weirdos Come From?!

, , , , | Friendly | March 8, 2021

I live in a part of the country where there is a “strong men are tough” stigma. At the same time, there is an undercurrent of fear of dogs. I found a puppy who has grown into a beautiful and mild-tempered, medium-sized husky. Recently, I adopted a companion for him: seven-week-old chow. She is roughly four pounds, doesn’t know a stranger, and approaches everyone with a wiggling backside and a tongue ready for kisses.

I live on the second floor to the left of the stair landing with no other entrance or exit. It’s nine o’clock at night. I have just taken my fur babies out to do their business and we are circling back through the parking lot heading to our stairwell. I see ahead of us a carful of young men pull in and get out of their car. There are five of them and they look to be about six feet tall on average, in their early twenties, all walking in front of us, also clearly headed for our stairwell. 

I slow down a little to give them time to get upstairs and not feel like they are being followed. I am fairly confident they are going to see my neighbor, whose door is right in front of the landing. They get to the top and my small pack starts up the stairs. Rather than go into the apartment, all five assume positions around the landing. They hear us start up and turn to face us.

One man looks at my puppies.

Young Man #1: “Do they bite?”

I reply in as friendly a way as possible.

Me: “No, but the husky sheds, so clear a path if you don’t want fur all over you.” 

Instantly, the seas parted as they all pressed as far away from us as possible. I got to my door and started fumbling with my keys. These are both puppies, less than five months old, and still in training. I managed to get my door open and sent the husky in but accidentally dropped my four-pound ball-of-love’s leash. She instantly started her wiggle dance of friendship and clumsily started heading for these five LARGE grown men. 

As one, in perfect synchrony, they lept to attention from their chairs and lounge positions and RAN down the stairs! They didn’t stop at the stairs, though, and despite my regaining control before she was even to the edge of the landing, they got back in their car, and the next sound I heard was the squealing of tires as they peeled out of the parking lot!

To this day, I cannot figure out what terrified them so bad about something that would have fit inside their shoe or pocket.

The last sound after the tires was my laughter, which lasted for forty-five minutes.

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Don’t Let Your Guinea Pigs Be Her Guinea Pigs

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 3, 2021

I have guinea pigs. I have a friend over who also owns guinea pigs. We’re having a conversation while I chop vegetables in the kitchen to feed my pigs.

Friend: “Aren’t you going to add the dressing?”

Me: “Oh, this isn’t for me. It’s for the guinea pigs.”

Friend: “I know. But you aren’t going to add dressing to it?”

Me: “No, I’m not going to add salad dressing to vegetables meant for guinea pigs.”

Friend: “But I always put raspberry vinaigrette on my guinea pigs’ vegetables! It makes them taste better!”

I stare at her in silence a moment before realizing that she’s dead serious.

Me: “That is a very bad idea and it will make them very sick. Guinea pigs should not eat salad dressing.”

Friend: “Really? So, I’m supposed to just give them plain vegetables?”

Me: “Believe me, your guinea pigs would prefer them if they were plain!”

She often calls me complaining about how her guinea pigs have gastrointestinal issues all the time and never mentioned adding salad dressing to their food when I asked her what she was feeding them.

I can’t believe she’s owned guinea pigs longer than I have and didn’t know that you aren’t supposed to feed them salad dressing. I’m never asking her to watch my pigs for me when I’m away again.

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They Sure Make Dogs Different From When I Was A Kid

, , , , , , , , , | Related | March 2, 2021

We rescued a new dog a few months ago. Then, the health crisis started, so my five-year-old son has been doing virtual school. At this point, they’re learning about sea animals in kindergarten, so he’s telling me about them during lunch.

Son: “Miss [Teacher] says that octopus have tentacles.”

Me: “That’s right.”

Son: “Eight of them! That’s more than dogs.”

Me: “Dogs don’t have tentacles.”

Son: “When we first got Bunbury, he had a tentacle.”

Me: “What?”

Son: “Yeah! A tentacle on his butt!”

I’m terrified.

Son: “So we took him to the dog doctor to get his tentacle removed.”

Me: “Do you mean testicles?”

Son: “Yeah!”

Me: “That’s… that’s a different type of body part, buddy.”

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What Are You Feeding Those Sparrows?!

, , , , , | Related | February 27, 2021

During the health crisis, my mum’s gotten exceptionally bored as she’s had to shield, so she has picked up the hobby of bird watching by looking at the front garden from her chair in the living room. She’s been very successful in getting birds — almost exclusively sparrows — to flock as she’s been putting an inordinate amount of varied bird food, plus housing, out for them on the tree just outside that window. These are probably the most pampered — and fattest — wild sparrows in the UK.

As we’ve been hit by snow, Mum’s aggressive bird feeding policy has only upped, resulting in a LOT of fat little sparrows gathering. As of the week of this story, we’ve got about a hundred of the little hooligans fighting over the abundance of food and attacking every other non-sparrow that so much as glances at it.

I’ve made a cup of tea and, upon reentering the living room, I notice that all the little fat things have gone and that a lone sparrowhawk — without any prey — is perched on the tree with the food on. I slowly get my phone out to take a picture.

My mum is sat in the chair next to the window.

Mum: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Don’t move; there’s a sparrowhawk.”

Mum: “It’s just a large sparrow.”

Me: “Did you actually look?”

She looks directly at the MUCH LARGER THAN A SPARROW sparrowhawk.

Mum: “It’s just a sparrow… Where are the other sparrows?”

I’m struggling with my phone whilst trying not to spill my tea.

Me: “They’ve f***ed off cause a sparrowhawk tried and failed to nom them.”

Mum: “It’s not a sparrow—”

The sparrowhawk flies off.

Mum: “Oh, it was a sparrowhawk. I thought it was a sparrow.”

Me: “It’s like 100 times the size! Only the colouring is similar!”

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