My dog and I are close; I will be the first to admit that I am a bit of a helicopter pet parent, and I am always on the lookout for potential issues (most notoriously, ear infections), but this one takes the cake.

I woke up at about 2 am because Morrison (the aforementioned dog) was making a weird noise. I attempted to wake her. No response. I attempted to lift her. She was dead weight and limp. So I did the only reasonable thing: reacted in a blind panic, convinced myself she was dead, and promptly performed resuscitation while screaming blue murder for my husband to wake up. He’s greeted by me sobbing uncontrollably, Morrison blinking in confusion as now I’m convinced she has just returned from the dead due to my quick thinking, and immediately calls the ER vet in the area to see if we can come in. They say yes, we move dog #2 (Cobain) into her kennel until we return, and we’re speeding down the road to the other side of town twenty-five minutes away.

On the drive, I woke up my mother, because I was hysterical and begging Morrison not to die, and my husband needed someone to talk me down. They finally get me in some kind of rational headspace, and we pull up to the ER vet.

Morrison has to go in alone (because social distancing), so I’m sitting in the car, still crying because obviously, my dog is dying, as my poor husband tries to field my hysterical predictions and respond to the Vet techs calling him for information.

Two hours (and only $50 later – they felt bad for me), we got a diagnosis: Morrison is a heavy sleeper and goes limp during deep sleep (like normal animals). There is literally nothing wrong with her, but how I didn’t give her a heart attack is beyond me.

And of course, the ER Vet had to call our normal vet to update her files, so now my vet brings it up every time I go in. Classic.

At the veterinary hospital we frequent, you are addressed by your pet name; e.g., my husband and I are Mr./Mrs. Cherry, after our cat. When the vet is ready for you, the receptionist will call out “Mr./Mrs. [Pet]!” and you can go in for a consult.

One day, we have a fellow pet parent who enjoys making fun of people’s choice of pet names as he waits for his own, particularly of small pets with tough-guy names – Terminator, Darth Vader, etc.

The first pet is called and it’s a miniature Doberman Pinscher called Killer. The wannabe comedian does his whole schtick of making fun of Killer for having a tough name and being tiny. Nobody is amused.

The second pet is Thor, a grey toy poodle. Cue the dude and his comedy routine. By now, the whole waiting room is dreading the next client.

The next pet called is Cujo. The dude turns around and right in his face is the largest Newfoundland Shepherd I have ever seen. It’s easily the size of a young bear, for those who have never seen the breed.

Now, normally, they are super gentle, but there is something wrong with the dog’s leg because it’s bandaged. When the dude turns around in his chair to make fun of Cujo, he is greeted with a deep, warning WOOF. He turns white as a sheet and just sits there, staring at the dog and possibly hoping he won’t get eaten.

There is light laughter from the rest of the pet parents waiting in the room. We never hear a peep out of the guy again until his own dog is brought out of the grooming section of the hospital. Serves him right.

My mum used to house sit for our neighbour when she was sent on one of many random training courses. This neighbour has an elderly cat that is mostly independent, but obviously still requires his food and water topping up. Our neighbour had also has a cat door fitted with a magnetic trigger attached to the cat’s collar. When the neighbour is on her trips my mum goes over once a day and checks on things.

One year, our neighbour decides to also get a kitten, which, after a suitable period of training and whatnot, is also given a magnetic collar. The next day, our neighbour was sent on another training course and she asks my mum to check twice a day, just for the kitten’s sake.

Monday morning’s check, everything is fine.

Monday afternoon’s check, mum hears a pathetic mewling sound coming from the kitchen. The elder cat is sitting washing his paws on the garden wall, so it must be the kitten. Mum goes to investigate.

The magnetic collar is clearly stronger than the kitten, who has found itself stuck sideways to the fridge door!

Mum ended up creating a kitten-proof barrier in front of the fridge for the rest of the week. Our neighbour looked into a chip-based collar instead!

My cat thought the outside was a bit scary, but she still wanted to go out and explore it. Since she was chipped and spayed we let her out when she wanted. Sometimes she stayed out while I went to work, then as I got home she jumped out from the bushes next to our door to go inside with me.

One day she didn’t, so I went out to call for her, knowing she sometimes was away on some adventure, but always close by. However she still did not come. At first I thought perhaps she wandered farther than usual, so I went out regularly to call for her but she never came, so I started wandering further away to call for her as well.

That weekend I put up notes in the neighbourhood, and cried a lot, worrying for her. I made calls to local shelters as well but no one had seen her. After several weeks, I gave up, and went on my planned holiday.

That is when I get this call from a mother.

Mother: “Hi, are you [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mother: “Are you missing a cat?”

Me: “Yes, have you seen her?”

Mother: “Yes, she’s here with me and my daughter.”

Me: “Oh my god! Thank you! Where was she? Where did you find her?”

Mother: “Well we found her some weeks ago when visiting my mother, she seemed so scared and thin, malnourished, so my daughter and I took her into our car and brought her home.”

Me: “Really, where was this?”

She describes the exact area where I live, the bush outside my house, during the time she disappeared.

Me: “Uhm… she was malnourished?”

Mother: “Yes, we’ve given her lots of food but she doesn’t eat enough. So we were worried she was sick and took her to the vet and they checked her chip, so that is how we found you.”

I usually leave food out for my cat to eat how much she wants, as she has no issues with controlling that herself. She is a thin cat though, so those used to overweight cats usually think her skinny. But what really annoyed me was that they had my cat for weeks and didn’t think to check for a chip.

Mother: “There is nothing wrong with her though, you’ll be relieved to know. My daughter is really fond of her, she is fitting in very nicely here, I believe she is very happy here.”

Me: “Well I get back in a few days…”

Mother: “Alright, well we can bring her back then but there is no hurry, we don’t mind keeping her here.”

Me: “Well thank you so much! I’ll contact you.”

As I get home they come to give my cat back, giving me lots of cat food and cat sand as well. It is all nice and everything, but I noticed them watching me very closely with my cat, who seemed very happy to see me, and this made them sad, I could see it.

Me: “Just to clarify, did you find her in this bush?”

Mother: “Yes exactly! To think she lived right here.”

Me: “Yeah…”

Mother: “If you ever need someone to take her we would love to have her.”

Me: “No it’s alright, I usually bring her along on travels.”

Mother: “But those cages can be so traumatizing…”

Me: “Yeah she doesn’t like them very much so I usually let her be in my lap. Thank you again! Goodbye.”

They texted me regularly after that, to see if I needed help with the cat, and once I saw them from the window searching in the bushes. They gave up after a couple of months though.

When I was a child we had a ginger cat named Felix. Now, Felix was fast. Really fast. You know when cats get the zoomies? Well, that was basically his minimum speed whenever he went anywhere.

Felix had also learned that humans who make rustling sounds while sitting on the sofa, then put things to their mouths, are often eating snacks. Snacks that Felix very much wanted. He particularly liked trying to steal crisps or ice cream.

One evening, my Mum was sat in her favourite spot, and Felix was nowhere to be seen. However, wherever he was, he heard rustling, and his ears pricked up. Cue:

1) A very brief ginger blur flashing along the sofa in front of Mum’s face.
2) A rather shocked gasp from Mum.
3) A very disgruntled Felix sitting in the corner spitting out the cigarette he had just snatched in mid-leap!

The rustling had been taking the film off the new pack!