It's the little [furry] things in life . . .
It's almost the end of another month here and the weather has become chilly. The leaves have yellowed and litter the sidewalks and for the second time in my life, I am happy that I am at a campus that has lots of trees. I have now found a shortcut to get to the vet building which allows me the luxury of being only 7 minutes late versus my usual 10. This shortcut entails a trip through the main floor of the bio sci building which has a cool display of terrariums, fish tanks, prehistoric animal bones and pterodactyl mobiles. (once a geek, always a geek)
Every morning, I wave hello to the bunch of frogs sitting in the terrarium on the main floor beside the dinosaur bones and fish tanks. Usually, the frogs simply continue to mindlessly stare past me and I’d be rebuffed. Some mornings, however, the frogs puff up their throats a bit at me and slightly roll one eye back. I take joy in the small victories in life.
Next in my morning route, I saunter past the campus squirrel. This squirrel is a permanent resident on the main floor of the bio sci building and it is rumoured that he is at least 20 years old. Campus legend has it that there are two types of people in the world: those who can see the squirrel, and those who can’t. Some people have been working at the bio sci building of the U of S for more than 5 years and still haven’t caught a glimpse of the squirrel. Others have seen it every time they walk past its cage. I am not so lucky. I’m one of those people who can’t see the squirrel and if the legends are anything to go by, will never see it.
Luckily for me, I have my own little furry neurotic animal at home. Contrary to the title of this site, it's not a paranoid puppy. (He's back in cowtown with my grans and gramps, guarding them from the big nasties). My current little furry friend is a black bunny who is aptly named Ranger. He's named after the hunky, mysterious and oh-so sexy bounty hunter who only wears black from Janet Evanovich's Stefanie Plum novels.
Like his namesake, Ranger the bunny is very stealth. He can escape from any contraption that I make for him and more than once, he has outsmarted me (which is sad as he probably has an IQ rivalling that of pocket lint. He eats his own poop for goodness sakes!). Why I feel compelled to confess this on the internet, I have no idea. I suppose you could say I'm proud of the little guy. He's a Silent Bob to my Jay, a Wilson the volley ball to my Castaway, a Chewbacca to my Han Solo, a Toto to my Dorothy, and a Scully to my Mulder (Ranger’s the reasonable, logical one and I’m the one who dreams about my sister(s) getting abducted by aliens).
Ah yes. And before this turns into another one of those crazy ways in which owners oogle over their pets to people who could care less, I'll dash off for a cookie break. Should I end up an old spinster, I will hold all of you responsible for shooting me before I become that crazy cat lady down on the wrong side of the tracks who hurls her cats at any strange passers-by and yells inchoerent screechy things at them. "BLARGGH NYAAHHH EEEEEEERRRRWAAAAAAAAAH!"
*MREEEEOOOOOOOW!*
Oh goodness, me whole life flashed before me eyes.
COOKIES. NOW!
It's almost the end of another month here and the weather has become chilly. The leaves have yellowed and litter the sidewalks and for the second time in my life, I am happy that I am at a campus that has lots of trees. I have now found a shortcut to get to the vet building which allows me the luxury of being only 7 minutes late versus my usual 10. This shortcut entails a trip through the main floor of the bio sci building which has a cool display of terrariums, fish tanks, prehistoric animal bones and pterodactyl mobiles. (once a geek, always a geek)
Every morning, I wave hello to the bunch of frogs sitting in the terrarium on the main floor beside the dinosaur bones and fish tanks. Usually, the frogs simply continue to mindlessly stare past me and I’d be rebuffed. Some mornings, however, the frogs puff up their throats a bit at me and slightly roll one eye back. I take joy in the small victories in life.
Next in my morning route, I saunter past the campus squirrel. This squirrel is a permanent resident on the main floor of the bio sci building and it is rumoured that he is at least 20 years old. Campus legend has it that there are two types of people in the world: those who can see the squirrel, and those who can’t. Some people have been working at the bio sci building of the U of S for more than 5 years and still haven’t caught a glimpse of the squirrel. Others have seen it every time they walk past its cage. I am not so lucky. I’m one of those people who can’t see the squirrel and if the legends are anything to go by, will never see it.
Luckily for me, I have my own little furry neurotic animal at home. Contrary to the title of this site, it's not a paranoid puppy. (He's back in cowtown with my grans and gramps, guarding them from the big nasties). My current little furry friend is a black bunny who is aptly named Ranger. He's named after the hunky, mysterious and oh-so sexy bounty hunter who only wears black from Janet Evanovich's Stefanie Plum novels.
Like his namesake, Ranger the bunny is very stealth. He can escape from any contraption that I make for him and more than once, he has outsmarted me (which is sad as he probably has an IQ rivalling that of pocket lint. He eats his own poop for goodness sakes!). Why I feel compelled to confess this on the internet, I have no idea. I suppose you could say I'm proud of the little guy. He's a Silent Bob to my Jay, a Wilson the volley ball to my Castaway, a Chewbacca to my Han Solo, a Toto to my Dorothy, and a Scully to my Mulder (Ranger’s the reasonable, logical one and I’m the one who dreams about my sister(s) getting abducted by aliens).
Ah yes. And before this turns into another one of those crazy ways in which owners oogle over their pets to people who could care less, I'll dash off for a cookie break. Should I end up an old spinster, I will hold all of you responsible for shooting me before I become that crazy cat lady down on the wrong side of the tracks who hurls her cats at any strange passers-by and yells inchoerent screechy things at them. "BLARGGH NYAAHHH EEEEEEERRRRWAAAAAAAAAH!"
*MREEEEOOOOOOOW!*
Oh goodness, me whole life flashed before me eyes.
COOKIES. NOW!
posted by Viv at 9:07 a.m.
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