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.”
(A) I want your dog. Do those need to be groomed, or are they wash and wear?
(B) She's got a point about NASA people - we had a client who worked at NASA and thought those robo telemarketer calls that said they were from the IRS were real. I don't think we ever convinced him otherwise.
(C) Why would you let a tarantula crawl on your face under any circumstances?
Your story brought to mind a dog I saw at a dog park once. I think it was one of those ridgeback dogs. As all of us owners were watching our dogs play or waiting for them to poop, I overheard the ridgeback owner say, “We can’t figure out what’s going on. She’s obsessed with her own shadow.” Sure enough, the dog who I thought was sniffing around for some territory to mark or something was actually watching her own shadow. Right then, some clouds blocked the sun and it was like a switch flipped and she became a completely normal dog who started running around with the other dogs. The minute the sun re-emerged, it was back to the shadow. I think of that dog and its owners sometimes. I hope she grew out of it. Or moved somewhere more cloudy.
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'm a big fan of never owning a pet that, if it escapes its enclosure, my first impulse will be to kill it rather than to recapture it.
(A) I want your dog. Do those need to be groomed, or are they wash and wear?
(B) She's got a point about NASA people - we had a client who worked at NASA and thought those robo telemarketer calls that said they were from the IRS were real. I don't think we ever convinced him otherwise.
(C) Why would you let a tarantula crawl on your face under any circumstances?
Nice column. You are a bit droll, and that's kind of rare. Droll = humorous, whimsical, and a little bit odd.
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?
Mortimer is a solid name!
Your story brought to mind a dog I saw at a dog park once. I think it was one of those ridgeback dogs. As all of us owners were watching our dogs play or waiting for them to poop, I overheard the ridgeback owner say, “We can’t figure out what’s going on. She’s obsessed with her own shadow.” Sure enough, the dog who I thought was sniffing around for some territory to mark or something was actually watching her own shadow. Right then, some clouds blocked the sun and it was like a switch flipped and she became a completely normal dog who started running around with the other dogs. The minute the sun re-emerged, it was back to the shadow. I think of that dog and its owners sometimes. I hope she grew out of it. Or moved somewhere more cloudy.
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...
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.
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.