We have a lot of birds where I live. Most of them make beautiful sounds…all except one. The Sulphur-crested Cockatoo.
This is what the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo looks like.
Beautiful, isn’t it? (Image source: Wikipedia)
This is what the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo sounds like it looks like.
I swear, the second I put ham on the chopping board my pets turn into The Hoverpets – they’re worse than flies!
So, this is how I see my pets…
…and I’m pretty sure this is how they see me.
Lately my cats have been getting on my nerves. It’s just little things they’re doing – like dragging blankets through the house (my blankets, not theirs), stealing the dog’s food, play-fighting on the couch – so violently that couch cushions end up all over the floor, scampering across the kitchen counter and just being generally irritating.
They have, in fact, been so annoying lately that I am starting to wonder if they have some kind of beef with me. There is a lot of debate on whether cats can be vengeful or not; some people say yes (mostly cat owners) and others say it’s not possible for a (non-human) animal to have an emotion like revenge. I tend to lean towards the side of hell, yeah, they are!
It started me thinking… what if I decided to get revenge on my cats? Of course I wouldn’t actually do that, but if I did…how would I go about it? Here’s what I’ve come up with so far…
How to get revenge on your cat
1. Cats are attracted to boxes like moths to a flame. Put a giant empty box in the lounge room. The vengeful part? Make sure it is completely sealed.
2. Keep the door closed to just one room of the house. It will soon become the only place your cat wants to be.
3. Eat bacon in front of them.
4. When cats encounter something new in their environment it really freaks them out. Put an object in a place where there is normally nothing (like the hallway). It doesn’t even have to be anything scary-looking; for example, a lamp will do nicely.
5. Borrow an annoying puppy for the day.
6. Deny access to your lap.
As a youngster I was an enormous nature lover – I spent most of my days looking under fallen leaves for beetles and breeding tadpoles every rainy season – so it’s no surprise that Harry Butler was one of my childhood idols. I believed he was magical because every rock or branch he turned over revealed an animal of some kind. I wanted to be just like Harry and never missed his show, In the Wild with Harry Butler.
One day my dad and I were in our backyard when he called me over and pointed to a small creature attached to a tree. It was hideous. It looked like a cross between a tarantula and a naked mole rat.
To my surprise, my dad pulled it from the tree and held it out to me, as though I was supposed put my hand out to hold it. I looked at him like he was about to set me on fire and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be touching it anytime soon.
My dad tried to convince me that it was harmless, that it wasn’t even alive and was, in fact, just a shell. But it was the creepiest thing I had ever seen and I refused to go near it. I didn’t believe it was just a shell; I thought it was alive and perfectly capable of biting off one of my fingers.
After many minutes of trying to convince me of its harmlessness my dad gave me a choice: I could either hold the cicada shell or I wouldn’t get to watch Harry Butler that night. I was devastated – it was like Sophie’s Choice!
I thought about how repulsive the cicada shell was and how much I loved Harry Butler. I cried and pleaded with him, but he was resolute. I came to the conclusion that my dad was the meanest dad alive.
My love for Harry was so strong that eventually I closed my eyes, held out my hand and waited for my dad to drop the repulsive creature in it. Suddenly, I felt the lightest touch on my palm, it was like a feather. I opened my eyes and took a closer look – it really was just a shell! I was instantly fascinated. From that moment on I was the cicada queen (and I got to watch Harry that night).
Not only was I no longer scared of cicada shells, I would seek out the live nymphs, put them on my shirt and let them hatch on me. I would then wear the empty shells on my clothes like badges. Cicadas were the most fascinating creatures I’d ever encountered.
One day I found an unusually large amount of cicada shells on a tree in our front yard and instantly had an idea.
Dad, thanks for making me hold the cicada shell. Mum, you can blame dad for that one!
I was a pretty naughty kid and got into my fair share of trouble. My real problem was that I just never fully thought things through. Like the day I found my little sister, Christie, emptying my favourite cereal onto the kitchen floor. She was having the time of her life.
I was horrified! This was my favourite cereal in the whole world and it was being wasted! I was so mad! I was so shocked! I was so going to tell mum!
I turned to go, when I suddenly realised that I had a real opportunity here to get my angelic little sister into a lot of trouble. The floor didn’t really look that bad, so the first thing I had to do was completely destroy the kitchen.
I made a game of it.
It was kinda fun.
When I thought the kitchen looked bad enough I ran off to tell my mum. Christie was going to be in so much trouble. For once it would be her and not me; I would be the good child! Everybody would talk about the day that my sister destroyed the kitchen and wasted all that cereal. They’d talk about how naughty she was and shake their heads in despair. I could hardly wait for my mother to come and see what she had done!
I raced into mum’s bedroom and started shrieking hysterically about what Christie had done to the kitchen and how I had tried to stop her, but she was unstoppable in her rampage!
My mother didn’t even look up from her magazine. She just said “Oh well, be a good girl and go clean it up.”
Not only did Christie not get into any trouble, not only did I have to clean up what can only be described as clown vomit, but I was forced to eat boring, old Weet-Bix the next morning with the full awareness that it was my own stupid fault.
Flufflepot 