Wednesday, 21 July 2010

All Creatures Great and Small

So as I mentioned before, Dan and I are at his aunt and uncle's place looking after their pets and their garden for two weeks.

But in addition to the four legged variety of animal, I have gradually begun to suspect that we are also here as quasi-authority figures, to look after the stray two legged variety of animals that seem to be wandering through the doors at all hours of the day and night.

I am speaking of course of that strange and reclusive beast known as The Teenager (well, I'm pretty sure one of them is twenty-one or so, but he still presents himself as a teen).

I couldn't figure it out though.  If The Teenager lives here, why are we here?  Can't the combined efforts of The Teenager handle the responsibility of one horse, one mini-pony, one black lab, two golden labs, eight tomato plants, and a huge ass garden?

I was using my own teenage-self as a measuring stick for this responsibility, but maybe that's not a fair comparison.  There are different species of The Teenager, and I belonged to the species scientifically classified as Nerdus Nolifeus. 

I was one of those socially inept voices at a party, who would see a peer light a cigarette and pipe up: smoking kills, you know! 

Also, if you couldn't find me on a Friday or Saturday night just do a sweep of the neighbourhood and I was the one babysitting the hellish children of all those new-age "we don't believe in boundaries, it stunts their growth" parents, who seemed to have a larger social life than I did.

I never gave my mom and dad an ounce of trouble, and I sort of regret that.  I mean, I think it's fair to say they didn't really have to flex their parenting muscles on me which basically means they coasted through the ride of being a parent to a teen.  I think I did them a disservice by being so GD responsible!  Now they will have no stories to tell when they end up in the nursing home. 

(Guaranteed I'll be hearing about that last line!  Mom, Dad, consider that comment your 28 year old daughter's act of rebellion.  I'll apologize for it tomorrow.  Probably even sooner.  You know me.)

So anyways, on Saturday night as the teens milled around the yard smoking and drinking, it finally dawned on me that we are also here To Keep The Peace.

Dan was looking out the window, arms crossed, legs apart, surveying all these teenies as they listened to their crazy rap music, and said, "They can have all the fun they want until midnight.  After that, if they're too rowdy I'll have to say something.  We have to be considerate of the neighbours."

And just like that, Dan and I realized we were old:  we hated their music and used the word 'rowdy'.  Someone get me some sensible shoes and ill-fitting pants, I'm checking into adulthood.

The next morning I rose at 7:00 a.m. (ON A BLEEPIN' SUNDAY!) to feed the dogs. I tried to push open the door to get outside, but was met with resistance: there was a passed out teenie on my doorstep, lying on a dog bed, catching some zzzz's.  For the love of cheese!  How can teenagers sleep anywhere?  

Over the past six days I have been observing The Teenager in their not so natural habitat of no-parents, and I have woken up to strange teenies lying on the lawn and sleeping there until about 10 or 11 (I have taken to being VERY LOUD when I do my morning chores with the horses.  Why?  Because I'm a douchebag and it pisses me off they're all blocking my way to the hot tub.  They're messing with my morning!), I have seen them all sitting in their chairs on the patio smoking cigarette after cigarette and drinking coffee after coffee.  Until about 1:00, then the coffee becomes beer.

They seem to have no purpose other than existing.

But surely, what I am about to show you is the strangest thing of all.

My cat, Cosmo, used his Herculean strength to knock over a BARREL of dog food, and then bury himself in there and eat that food like he'd just struck gold.  Luckily for me, when a BARREL of dog food crashes to the ground, it makes a pretty loud sound so I caught him fairly quickly.

So I went to get the broom out of the cupboard to clean up the mess, and was met with this.

Can you spot it?

Closer look.

Why yes, that is the leftover spaghetti noodles from the previous night's dinner.  And at some point after 11 pm, they made their way out of the fridge and into this dog bowl.  A bowl that is not used to feed any of the three dogs we're caring for.

Life's little mysteries, don't you think?

So I think it's time I get in touch my Nerdus Nolifeus formal self, and go outside and tell them all that smoking kills.  And so do I, if they don't pick their GD lazy-ass-sleeping-selves off the lawn so I can have CLEAR ACCESS TO THE HOT TUB FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!

5 comments:

mom said...

Cait, just bang around a few pots, put music on really loud, maybe even put a sprinkler or two on...that should get them moving.

Caitie said...

Ah if only it was that simple. They are dedicated to sleeping in, in a way that reminds me of someone else I know...

Caitie said...

Ah if only it was that simple. They are dedicated to sleeping in, in a way that reminds me of someone else I know...

Habebi said...

Wow... I mean WOW! My brother was known to push it every now and then, but, nothing like what you're explaining. I would kick them, or roll them around- no way their lazy butts would stop me from the hut tub! lol

Good luck with them- because.. yeah like I said. WOW.

Ais said...

Hahaha, nothing like dried up old pasta making its way into a dog dish! What the hell were they doing? Make sure to hide your valuebles by the way! And dont worry, I also am beginning to feel old. I go out on a Saturday night and have never heard the music that is playing in my life. Not to mention I'm the only girl not in a mini skirt and heels.