Tag Archives: animals

If you were made of wax…

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Today I met Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, Theodore Roosevelt, JK Rowlings, Beatrix Potter, Al Capone, Cleopatra, Babe Ruth, Shawn Johnson, and Vera Wang. I was not dreaming, I’m not on drugs, and I do not see dead people.
My brother’s elementary school had their annual wax museum project. My brother went as Nikola Tesla to give a speech about his accomplishments, which included saving the lives of many poor pigeons, one of whom he spent $2000 dollars on and loved “like he would have loved a woman.”
Tesla was really an amazing fellow. He feared hair and doctors. He loved the number three, pigeons, and science. He hated Thomas Edison. Edison was his enemy, but things didn’t really go well for Edison. While Tesla supported AC electricity, Edison supported DC, and called AC impossible (at least until Tesla actually invented it). Edison then went on to use AC in a government-approved electric chair to demonstrate how dangerous that form of electricity was. He executed some poor criminal in an extremely painful way–the man basically melted. But Edison’s plan backfired. Instead of associating the execution with Tesla’s AC electricity, the public associated it with Edison. And, when Tesla’s company was suffering financial strain, Tesla ripped up his contract that gave him all the royalties to his patents so that the company could live on. Plus, he had a really sweet mustache.

Tesla always wore formal clothing. He was a quirky fellow…

But I’m not here to talk about Tesla. No, I mean to talk about the wax museum project. What if I were to do the project now? Who would I be?
I could be Charles Lindbergh and talk about my son’s tragic kidnapping, brag about my trips all over the world, and flirt with all the ladies. But that would be awkward because I’m a girl.
I could be TS Eliot and just recite brilliant poetry the whole time.
I could be Alfred Nobel and complain about my misused inventions and my horrible life.
I could be Al Capone because I could do a lot of creative things as him. (“I spent a lot of time working in soup kitchens and I donated money to charity. This helped me escape from the police’s notice and relieved my conscience at the same time!
I could be Teddy Roosevelt because he rode a moose.

You wish you could ride a moose…

I could be Alice Paul because she was a pretty amazing feminist. (You may know her from the movie “Iron Jawed Angels“)
I could be Nefertiti because I love ancient Egypt and Cleopatra is so overrated.
I could be Harper Lee because her friends told her they would cover her expenses for a  year while she went to write a book.
I could be Abigail Adams because we all know she was the brains behind the country.


I could be Joan of Arc because she was one deadly heroine.
I could be Jane Austen because… MR. DARCY.
I could be Sarah Emma Edmonds because she was a little-known (thus effective) spy dressed as a man during the Civil War.
Yeah. I’d probably be her.
Who would you be?

Here’s a story that ends tragically (because Gigi finds those types so appealing…)

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Dear blog readers,

I believe I have prepared you enough. It is time for you to know my history with animals.

FIRST you must hear tale of the furry frog with ears. Yes. It does exist. 

One beautiful summer in the rising sun of 2000, I awoke to a scream. My mother, emerging from the foggy bathroom, had discovered what she described as a “FURRY FROG WITH EARS” on the floor. Eyes wide, but head still cloudy, I peaked out of my room to see what all the fuss was. My dad batted me away–he had just arrived at the scene. Bent double with laughter, he barely managed to quiet my endless questions with “It’s just a bat!” Not a furry frog with ears after all.

But how could a bat get into our sealed-off bathroom? Why would a bat be in our house in the morning? Why wasn’t trying to fly away? WHY WOULD MY MOTHER CALL IT A FURRY FROG WITH EARS? 

They never did let me see said bat. My dad captured it in a hole-ridden tub and set it free at a local park. But it has become a running joke to this day. Who could ever mistake a bat for a frog? I mean, perhaps there are some similarities in the mouth area, but honestly? And “Ears”? I think the most prominent feature would be the WINGS.

When frogs fly…

Furry frog with ears? I prefer the name “Purple rat with wings,” personally.

Do I look like a bat to you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEXT comes the chipmunk…

Nearly a year later, I sat on the chaise lounge chair in our basement, reading. My mother worked out in our garden (weeding or talking to her plants or something) while my father read the comics upstairs. (My brother didn’t exist at this time.)

Done with her gardening work, my mother opened our side door and entered the house. She soon discovered that an adorable little chipmunk had followed her. Chased down the stairs by her screams, it began to run laps around the chair I had been reading on. I jumped up and stood on the top of the chair, joining my mom in the chorus of screaming. My dad dashed downstairs with a broom, laughing while attempting to get the chipmunk out of the basement. My mom calmed down enough to steer herself next to me and assure me everything would be alright. I replied with “DON’T KILL THE POOR LITTLE CHIPMUNK!!!” Even in my terror, I could not bear to see an animal hurt. 

Somehow, my father managed to fight his laughter and nudge the chipmunk all the way through the side door.

 

A YEAR AGO, we nailed this sweet bird nest to our patio out back. A couple of chickadees moved in to start their family. They were successful, and reared six beautiful baby birds. My family loved watching the birds grow older and take their first flying lessons. We even draped this bird feeder from a nearby maple tree in celebration. We knew that the birds wouldn’t be the only ones snacking on the seeds–squirrels are hungry little creatures, too. But that night, we didn’t get birds or even squirrels. No. We got a RACCOON. 

And do you know what raccoons like for dessert? BABY BIRDS. 

In the middle of the night, we woke to a terrible symphony of squawking and growling as the mommy and daddy chickadees fought the vicious raccoon to save their baby.

They lost. Our lovely baby birds all died at the paws of a hungry raccoon. 

 

I share all this with you because just yesterday morning my dog killed a rabbit. He did a pretty clean dissection, too, tearing the skin off and all that.

But I’m not one for biology, so the giant bunny wound up in our trash can.

Rest in peace, fellow mammal.

Yours truly,

Miss Tori

P.S.– Gigi: Get better soon!

A Theory

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I have this theory. Liv has already heard it…

Frequently, my dog stares out our front window and barks at absolutely nothing. This occurs in the dead of winter, too, when there are no squirrels or birds or anything else that may spook him.

Some may call this proof of the existence of ghosts–ghosts that we can’t see, but animals can.

I call this proof of the existence of mythological creatures.

Suppose that my dog is not going crazy, and rely on your common sense to know that he is not barking at a ghost. What could he possibly see that I can’t?

A MYTHICAL CREATURE.

Something allows the animal kingdom to see beings like unicorns and mermaids that the average human cannot. These  beings are actually all around us, strolling up and down our main streets and subdivisions. They live beneath our cars and in our ponds and along the corners of our attic that we refuse to venture into. That door that always opens even though you’ve closed it? Those blinds that opened up even though no one touched them? Not wind. Not even phantoms. FAIRIES.

And now it all makes sense. All we have to do is look harder for the magic around us to catch sightings of unicorns, fairies, mermaids, loch ness monsters, and phoenixes.*

I just solved the greatest mystery of the universe. BOOM.

*Please understand that I do not actually believe in this theory. I’m not insane. Really.