My cat growing up, ‘Cookie’ was brought into the house when I was about four, maybe five years old. She came into the bathroom when I was having a bath shortly after growing out of kittenhood.

For some reason I have never been able to determine, I decided she needed a bath as well, and so, picked her up and dunked her.

I have had a clear scar of a bite mark ever since, even thirty years later.

My husband and I are in the waiting room at the veterinary hospital with our cats. A lady in front of us is waiting with an obviously-pregnant dog to see another vet. She goes in first and we can overhear her conversation with the vet.

Apparently, she has two dogs from the same litter, one female, one male, and both unneutered/unspayed.

She appears to be convinced that since her male dog is from the same litter as her female dog, he could not possibly have impregnated her, since her dogs would not ‘do that.’ Instead, she is convinced that her female dog is having virgin-birth Jesus puppies.

On our way to see our own vet, we can hear the other veterinarian trying to explain to her how things work in the animal kingdom.

We can hear her wail “But they are brother and sister, they would never!” as we go into our designated office.

I feel for that poor vet.

We moved to a very wooded area and were dealing with an infestation of field mice. My kitty was “helping” solve the problem by bringing home half-dead moles and leaving them on the front porch.

I was in the kitchen one day and heard rustling coming from under the corner cabinet. I freaked out and grabbed a frying pan (I’m really not sure what I was going to do with it – but hey, I panicked). Anyway, I stood there and watched a rat, not a mouse – but a big old rat, slowly force its way out from behind the toe kick under the corner cabinet. It was so big, it was really struggling to force its way out.

I stood there taking aim with my frying pan at the ready, dreading what I was about to do when the rat finally forced its way out and… meowed at me.

My wonderful, solid gray cat had somehow got under the cabinet and it was such a tight squeeze that all her fur/skin had been pulled back as she struggled to get out that she looked like a giant rat. Good thing I really wasn’t invested in the whole idea of smashing the ‘rat’ with the frying pan.

Customer: “I need something to make my puppy less… moody.”

Me: “Moody? What do you mean?”

Customer: “You know… the yapping.”

Me: “Oh, well I can recommend some great training schools where—”

Customer: “No, I don’t want all that. Can’t you just give them a shot or a special collar or something?”

Me: “Well, puppies tend to be quite boisterous. There isn’t really anything you can do for that outside of obedience training.”

Customer: “Ugh, fine, moving on. Do they make sleeping pills for dogs?”

Me: “…”

Yes, we reported her.