Once, when I was walking Mortimer, we met an old woman who wanted to chat. “He’s such a cute dog,” she said. “What kind of dog is he?” I knew she was asking about Mortimer’s breed, but I was feeling saucy so I said, “he’s the kind of dog who knows that he’s cute enough to get away with murder.”
I really like the title, Alex! I don’t think hamsters count as unusual because they’re the go-to mammal for people who don’t want a cat or a dog. And I’m with you - no pet rats, not for me, thanks!
1. Either "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE" (caps included) or "Whatever Possessed Me To Get A Pet Tarantula???" (multiple question marks included).
2. Tom. Just to mess with Jerry ;) That said, I'd rather not have a pet rat at all, if it's all the same to you.
3. I don't own any pets, usual or unusual. I've had some in the past (usual) but, like the nice old lady said, it hurts too much when they die. And you KNOW you'll outlive them, so...
4. I don't think I've ever known anyone who owned an unusual pet. Unless you count hamsters. But hamsters don't count. Or do they? I suppose cats might think they're unusual or something, hmm.
5. Title: A Bag of Worms. Subtitle: How to get three pet husbands and learn to love your animals.
My daughter has a pet tarantula called Aggie (I think short for Agatha rather than aggressive. I hope, anyway). She had it in her closet for TWO YEARS before she told us she had it. Imagine if it had gotten loose when we didn't even know of its existence!
Oh I love the Terrys of this world. And their tarantulas and rats and ex-husbands too. Some people don't even bother to try to make sense. Thank god.
I can't even LOOK at tarantulas. I did keep a gekko in my locker in high school though. And owned an accordion for a while, which is a lot like having a strange pet.
My grandmother owned a Siamese cat named Sinicapipious (cynic-uh-PIP-ee-us). No idea how that came about. He had pink-rimmed blue eyes and hissed every time a human came near him. The spider sounds friendlier at least.
Oct 16, 2022·edited Oct 16, 2022Liked by Michael Estrin
We had a Siamese for 13+ years who is now talking to God. And talking and talking. I considered him irreplaceable and acted accordingly. When the city excavated Houston Street we had rats in the basement, not white as I assume most pet rats are, but Norwegian and fearless. They left when they got bored. Now my favorite pet is our upstairs neighbors', a Jack Russell female named Poki who is so affectionate in the hallway I chide her owners that she has no class. But she gives me just enough affection without having to walk her, never mind feed her. Ideal.
I have to admit, I was cringing through most of this story--first at the tarantula, then at the rat, then at the husbands, then at Terry (I half expected someone to come running out of the bushes and drag her back to. . . not sure where). I likely couldn't handle any of them. But Mortimer sounds like a sweetheart!
I really like the title, Alex! I don’t think hamsters count as unusual because they’re the go-to mammal for people who don’t want a cat or a dog. And I’m with you - no pet rats, not for me, thanks!
1. Either "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE" (caps included) or "Whatever Possessed Me To Get A Pet Tarantula???" (multiple question marks included).
2. Tom. Just to mess with Jerry ;) That said, I'd rather not have a pet rat at all, if it's all the same to you.
3. I don't own any pets, usual or unusual. I've had some in the past (usual) but, like the nice old lady said, it hurts too much when they die. And you KNOW you'll outlive them, so...
4. I don't think I've ever known anyone who owned an unusual pet. Unless you count hamsters. But hamsters don't count. Or do they? I suppose cats might think they're unusual or something, hmm.
5. Title: A Bag of Worms. Subtitle: How to get three pet husbands and learn to love your animals.
I am just shocked at how long of a conversation this was. you guys just stood and...talked? Like, how?
My daughter has a pet tarantula called Aggie (I think short for Agatha rather than aggressive. I hope, anyway). She had it in her closet for TWO YEARS before she told us she had it. Imagine if it had gotten loose when we didn't even know of its existence!
Igor. And I would get a leash for it.
My cousin had a pet tarantula when I was a teen. I held it in my hand once. That was enough for a lifetime.
Oh I love the Terrys of this world. And their tarantulas and rats and ex-husbands too. Some people don't even bother to try to make sense. Thank god.
I can't even LOOK at tarantulas. I did keep a gekko in my locker in high school though. And owned an accordion for a while, which is a lot like having a strange pet.
OMG, this one is pure gold! Or maybe I should say ersatz gold in honor of Terry...
Nice column. You are a bit droll, and that's kind of rare. Droll = humorous, whimsical, and a little bit odd.
I would call the memoir "A Pet Rat, a REAL Rat, and a Tarantula."
My brother had a lizard, which was adorable. The only issue was that we had to feed it live crickets. That was gross.
My grandmother owned a Siamese cat named Sinicapipious (cynic-uh-PIP-ee-us). No idea how that came about. He had pink-rimmed blue eyes and hissed every time a human came near him. The spider sounds friendlier at least.
the only name for a tarantula is Fangcis McDormand.
and the memoir would sell lots of copies if it was called "sitting on terry's face without biting." where's my check?
Terry’s memoir’s definitely called “A Shorter Story Than Planned.”
Edit: Actually, that’s more Husband #3. For Terry, I support “Toxic Relationships: Literal vs. Figurative.”
We had a Siamese for 13+ years who is now talking to God. And talking and talking. I considered him irreplaceable and acted accordingly. When the city excavated Houston Street we had rats in the basement, not white as I assume most pet rats are, but Norwegian and fearless. They left when they got bored. Now my favorite pet is our upstairs neighbors', a Jack Russell female named Poki who is so affectionate in the hallway I chide her owners that she has no class. But she gives me just enough affection without having to walk her, never mind feed her. Ideal.
I have to admit, I was cringing through most of this story--first at the tarantula, then at the rat, then at the husbands, then at Terry (I half expected someone to come running out of the bushes and drag her back to. . . not sure where). I likely couldn't handle any of them. But Mortimer sounds like a sweetheart!