So, today a lady comes into the shelter and wants to adopt a cat. She seemed like an OK person, I mean, she wasn’t “from the city”, if you know what I mean. She filled out the forms and said all the right things so I decided she could go back to adopt a cat. When I asked her which one she wanted, she said, “The black one.”
I was like, whoa, hold on there. We don’t adopt out black cats this close to Halloween. You know, people do crazy things out there. After all, this is 1985. She was all, “Do I look like a Satanist?” and I was all, lady, I don’t know you from Adam and why are you so interested in a black cat? She gets in my face with this whole, “I just want to save a cat, you kill them all anyway don’t you?”
Let me tell you, I let her have it. I told her that we save cats. We save them from the streets and from wackos like her that want to sacrifice them, like someone I know told me they saw on 20/20 once with those kids in a basement, or something. I said that we don’t kill cats, we euthanize cats (I didn’t mention that last month we “euthanized” 85% of the cats we “saved” from people like her) and that those cats were better dead than hit by cars or tortured and how does she know anyway, did she ever have to spend the day killing a hundred cats and crying like I do and the people who work here do?
Then, you wouldn’t believe it, the bitch has the nerve to cuss me out and walk out the door! It gets better. The guy who was there the whole time this was going on muttering and shuffling about how long all this took- it only took an hour to do the pre-screening- and whining about the staff smoking like he was the Queen of England and asks if he could look at a dog. Can you believe that? We were closing in half an hour! He starts saying that since he wants to adopt the dog, maybe we could stay open a little longer. Stay open!? Would he ask Sears to stay open? So then he asks if we can hold him till tomorrow and I’m, like, no way, it’s first come, first served. So then he flips me off and slams out the door.
That’s OK, there was something wrong with that guy. I’m not sure what he was, Puerto Rican, Arab, or what, but he wasn’t strictly white. I’d have had to run a records check on him to make sure he owned his house like he claimed and tomorrow is Saturday anyway so the Courthouse would be closed.
Speaking of weirdos, did you hear that there is a man managing the shelter next county over and he’s black? I don’t know what that board is thinking. I hear he sells pit bulls out the back to dog fighters, but keep that between you and me.
I don’t know what’s wrong with all these people. They make us take all these animals from them and then won’t do the simplest things we ask of them to adopt pets out, like bring in a copy of their mortgage and rental agreement and let us call the landlord just to make sure it’s the real lease paperwork , come to the office during our convenient hours between 11:00 AM and 3:45 PM weekdays, not adopt around Christmas, bring in vet records for every pet they ever owned, and bring the entire family in- I don’t care your oldest is 20 and at Harvard except on holidays, if she’s in the house, she has to meet the dog, and don’t go throwing around that you’re rich to impress me, just because I never went to college doesn’t make me less educated than you! That’s not too much to ask to save these lives so they don’t have to be killed- I mean, euthanized.
What was I talking about? Oh, right…No, we don’t adopt black cats at Halloween!
Replies the Year 2015 to the Year 1985: OK, OK, I understand…just settle down…there you go. Do you want a Fresca and for me to put on the Rockford Files?
[Whispered aside to the Year 2014]: Don’t even bother, it’ll just wind 1985 up for no good reason. The last time I told 1985 that we had been adopting out black cats at Halloween and pets as Christmas presents for years, even to blacks, Hispanics, renters, and college students, and that euthanasia and shelter relinquishment were plummeting to an all-time low, and that shelters across the country were routinely saving 85% of animals instead killing 85% of them, 1985 started coughing so hard I thought it was going to have a heart attack. Better leave 1985 be.
Replies the Year 2015 to the Year 1985: You comfy, 1985? Good. I’ll just be over here saving animals based on facts, not stereotypes and anecdotes. What? Nothing, I didn’t say anything. Just drink your soda and tell me what shenanigans Rockfish gets himself into this time…
*All years appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real years, past or present, is purely coincidental.