Yesterday was an eventful day for me. It started off tearing my closet to shreds, looking for something suitable to wear to Metro's graduation. I ended up making an emergency run to Express Men for gray trousers and vest. I didn't have time to try anything on so I was resourceful and called Lindsey, my New York fashion guru.
Thank God she answered or it would have been one of those days where Matt shows up at my house expecting me to be ready but finds that instead I'm standing in my room in my underwear in tears.
After some brief descriptions over the phone and a couple of text message pics I was ready for my day!
Sometime in between A) standing in front of my mirror talking to Lindsey on one phone while texting her from another and B) ending up at the Old Spaghetti Factory with a balloon viking helmet on my head there was a small death in my house . . .
My little Tucson Blonde Tarantula, Cronos - who I just called my little Crone - died for no apparent reason. He/she wasn't even one year old yet! Normally Matt would've been my prime suspect (he hates my little spiderlings) I realized that not only was I with him all day, but Crone was perfectly shaped (if a little stiff (hehe)) and not a smear on the floor - Matt's m.o. for spider encounters.
So I have another entry for my book of animals that I call "The Tragic Undoing of Animals at the hands of Chad".
When I was little I had an arsenal of living things.
Cat: 1 († feline leukemia)
Dog:5 († various deaths, most noteworthy are car accidents and asshole farmer with a shotgun)
Snake:2 († escaped while I was on vacation and the crazy old woman charged to feed them left the cage open)
Iguana:2 († fell to his death, ? Donated to elementary school in Aurora)
Hamster:1 († I don't remember. All I recall is that he bit my cousin Melissa on the finger and I don't recall his being around after that . . . hmmmmmm . . . )
Bat: 1 (? Set free - probably dead now, but through no fault of my own)
Lately I've been much better with animals (only 1 fatality until Crone bit the dust)
I had a cat - an Abyssinian - named Alex. He was old and had to be gassed, but before that I had to follow him around my various houses cleaning up unexplainable blood clots on the floor. I also got sprayed a lot because he stopped cleaning himself and I had to start bathing him. I wish I had YouTube footage of my bathing a 20 pound cat. My bathroom always looked like the beach at Normandy in 1944 and smelled a little worse. Like someone had tried to clean away the carnage with vinegar douche and Indian food. Alex was also crazy, he wouldn't eat anything with fish in it - but did manage to devour half of one of his feet.
Then there's my chihuahua, Jack. Natalie and I went into a pet store one day. Not a good idea for me since I have a bleeding heart for animals and no self control. There was this sweet little deer faced chihuahua there that no one had showed interest in because he wasn't the coveted apple head chihuahua. (Really? Who names these things? It isn't like their life isn't crappy enough already - being a chihuahua.) ANYWAY, Natalie turned her back for a few minutes and when she found me again I had bought him. Natalie named him Jack and I took him home. I had him for about 6 months until he found a happy home. I was reluctant (read: I still complain) to give his sweet face up, but I accomplished my mission of the deer face dog not being unwanted, so . . . there's that.
Next - Sabrina, my (?) ossie cat. I acquired Sabrina from Chelsea. She was moving (I forget where to at this point - maybe Italy?) and she couldn't bring her cat - so I took her in. She's a good cat, but likes to scream at me from time to time and I suspect she may be trying to suffocate me in my sleep. My evidence to this is very convincing but kind of gross.
Many mornings I'll wake up with a tickle in my nose that ends with my pulling an ungodly long cat hair out of my sinuses via my nostril. (I told you it was gross). There's no way cat hair could accidently get lodged, regularly, like 4 inches into my head unless that bitch was doing it on purpose. I still have Sabrina. Chelsea is back and taking over my house so I can get out fast instead of trying to sell it. I'm thinking of leaving Sabrina there and seeing how long it takes Chelsea to notice. After all - ownership was never officially changed.
On to my wiener dog, Eva. Eva was a very similar situation to Jack - you see why I can't be trusted in pet stores?? Eva was already a full grown dachshund when I found her. Nobody wanted her because she had some weird bump on her nose. In fact the pet store was trying so hard to get rid of her that they started changing her date of birth on her little card on her glass kennel. When I noticed (because I'd visit her CONSTANTLY) I threw a small fit. Who are we kidding, I was escorted out of the pet store in mid tantrum. I promptly had Chelsea return and buy her for me for Christmas last year.
Then there's my slew of arthropods that Patrick gave me for my birthday. Poor Cronos died of what I'm assuming to be an arachnid form of SIDS, so now I'm fiercely protective of my remaining tarantula, Ghia, and I've started coddling my roaches, who - let's be honest - always took a back seat to the spiders.
R.I.P. Little Crone