While in COVID quarantine, our family has been sharing funny family stories from the past 48 years.
Like the time I fed cat food to the boys.
Diana was out for the evening, and I was in charge. Taco makings were in the fridge, along with a Tupperware container of beef. We three had a good meal, baths, bedtime stories and all was in order when she returned with our cat trotting behind.
As I awaited applause for my efforts, Diana called out from the kitchen as to the location of the cat food. “What cat food?” I inquired. “The cat food in the Tupperware container,” said she.
“That was taco meat,” said I. “No, it was a little leftover taco meat mixed with a can of cat food,” said my inquisitor.
Pausing to tuck myself into fetal position, I yelled that we had eaten it.
“We had seconds, too,” I said hopefully as Diana ran screaming up the stairs to check on the kids.
Gardner humor often involves critters.
One Friday night a possum invited itself into our garage.
It was a “home invasion,” I heard Diana shout to the 911 operator as I investigated.
The High Sheriff of Pasquotank County, the late Davis Sawyer, himself, responded to the call.
“Can’t you shoot it?” Diana asked as she cowered at the door with the phone in one hand and brandishing our largest spatula in the other.
“I could, m’am, but he’s sitting on top of a gasoline can,” Sawyer cautioned.
By now, neighbors, attracted by the lights of multiple sheriff’s vehicles, ambulances, fire trucks and the approaching SWAT team, had gathered to see what was up.
I finally solved the situation by donning a catcher’s facemask, heat resistant oven gloves and soccer shin guards to protect myself and catapulting the creature into the next yard, after ensnaring it in a fishing net.
Deputies, firemen, EMTs and armored SWAT team members applauded.
On another occasion, the largest salamander I have ever seen leapt from his perch on our front door as I let the dog out and sprinted under the washing machine. I knew I had to get that amphibian out of the house before Diana returned, lest she summon the SWAT team again.
Our ancient Kirby, an 8-horsepower, all-metal vacuum cleaner that can empty a swimming pool, paired with a yard stick, proved sufficient to capture the creature. The salamander was so big it was stuck headfirst in the hose with its tail and hindquarters wriggling in plain sight as I navigated through the door.
I had just returned from a run and removed my sweaty shirt. The sight of a half-naked man cursing and waving a vacuum cleaner on his front porch while his dog snarled must have confused our neighbors, several of whom called later to check on the state of our marriage.
An assortment of beloved pets have come and gone over the decades.
Snooky the parakeet sang for us several years before expiring, talons up, on the living room floor one day. I think Socks, the cat, had something to do with it since we had eaten her food shortly before the bird’s untimely passing. Knowing that Diana and the boys would want to pay their last respects, I placed Snooky in a sandwich bag and laid him out in the refrigerator like Stalin in the Kremlin for the mourners.
The family shrieked. Socks just purred in a corner.
One year, I purchased Diana a series of mix and match outfits for her professional career. Being an Olympic-class bargain shopper, she chastised me for spending so much money ... twice. We had a third argument about returning the garments to the local merchant where I had bought them.
Seeking a truce, I ordered flowers, which were delivered to our west-facing porch just after the lunch hour on an exceptionally warm day. By 5 p.m. they were a dried arrangement which a neighbor’s dog had watered. That led to a fourth argument over my failure to inform the florist to put the flowers in the shade.
Some of the earliest stories occurred when we lived on Selden Street, in Elizabeth City’s Historic District. We eventually began referring to it as the “Hysterical District.”
One of my duties on cold winter mornings was to break the ice in the downstairs commode before the family arose.
Soon enough, the portable kerosene heater became a hot plate for breakfast. The boys still say that the aroma of kerosene reminds them of their childhood in the Hysterical District.
The Link LonkJuly 19, 2020 at 09:30PM
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Quarantine time for sharing funny family stories - The Daily Advance
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Funny
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