Three Legs Are Better Than None

By now you are probably pretty familiar with some of my (mis)adventures with pets.

But what you probably didn't know, is that my pet history is a long one. That is, if we define "pet" as "a creature that has been kept in confinement and given a name."

Under that qualifier, I have had frogs, a spider (it lived on our deck and I fed ants to it every day, idk), silkworms, like a hundred ladybugs (I named all of them), snails, a couple dogs, a psychotic cat, rats, and fish. A lot of fish. Too many fish. By the time I was eleven I had quite an impressive fish cemetery in the backyard.

But besides all of those pets, my family also has had their fair share of rodents.

After my sister’s first set of hamsters devoured their own babies and left their remains for her to discover, I thought perhaps we were done with rodents forever. 


But then somehow we ended up with four little mice.

We named them Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin - because when I was 15 I was at the peak of my nerdiness.

It wasn’t long before we discovered (through observation) that Sam and Merry were, in fact, female.

So their names became Rosie and Arwen, naturally.

As you can imagine, these mice didn’t last long since they were only bred to live long enough to get from the pet store to your lizard.

Frodo was the first to go, as I found out when I awoke to his little corpse in my face.

The next to go was Sam/Rosie. We buried them in the backyard, releasing their little mouse spirits to depart on the long journey to that Mordor in the sky. (That’s what mouse heaven is called. I bet you didn't know that.)

So my sister Annie, who was like four at the time, decided to give the remaining two mice a cute little mouse bath using a little plastic Barbie hot tub. During this mouse bath, Arwen’s back leg was somehow injured/broken, mostly likely because mice shouldn’t be bathed as if they were human. (It was really cute, though).

For a few days, Arwen went about her normal mouse business dragging her broken leg behind her like some weird second tail. This included running on her little wheel, leg thumping along behind her.

But the first real indication we had of Arwen's complete insanity was when we noticed that half of her injured leg was...missing. Not being unfamiliar to the world of rodent cannibalism, we decided to separate the two mice, assuming it was Pippin who was chewing on her leg.

But when we awoke the next morning, the rest of her leg was gone, a bloody stump in its place. 

She had eaten her own leg. The entire thing. Just gnawed right through the bone.

I mean, THAT MAKES SENSE. WHENEVER I GET A PAPER CUT I JUST CHEW MY FINGER OFF.

Shortly after this, Pippin also kicked the bucket, probably from the shock of watching his friend eat herself.

We thought for sure that three-legged Arwen would follow, but no....you guys, true to her namesake, she would not die. She lived through hell. And by hell, I mean that she lived through her own self-induced hell. 

Because one day, we found that Arwen had a small little cut on her tail. And, following the same mouse logic as before, Arwen nibbled her tail off completely.

As if EATING HER OWN LEG wasn't enough!

At this point we all sort of wanted her to freaking die, because were just so tired of hearing the dull whacking sound her bony little leg nubbin would make on the metal bars of her wheel.

The Game Has Spoken

So a little while ago I played MASH for the first time since 1997. That's right, MASH. Remember MASH? 


Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House. You choose options for different categories, such as future spouse, job, income, pet, number of children, car, death, etc. Then you draw a spiral, and when the person you are MASHing says stop, you count the number of lines in the spiral. Using that number, you then count through the options, eliminating the ones you land on.

Everybody plays it differently. Some people are boring, and only do 4 categories (house, spouse,  kids, income) but me and my friends tried to include as many categories as possible.

Most of my friends would end up with pretty good results, like marrying Leonardo DiCaprio and living in a mansion and driving a porsche.

MASH wasn't all Leo and Porsches for me though. I always ended up with the lame results, like living in a Shack with a Hobo.

Sometimes I'd end up living in a Shack with Leo, but what's the fun in that?

That turned extremely emotionally abusive really quickly, didn't it...

Turns out I'm still really unlucky when it comes to the game of MASH. After letting my 15-year-old sister Annie and her friend Maggie do MASH on me, it looks like I still have quite the dysfunctional and bizarre life ahead of me.

Even though I asked them to please put Sean as every single option for Spouse, they still included a Hobo (I guess I look like I'd be the type to marry a homeless person...) and Harry Potter.

Turns out I'm going to marry Harry Potter.

Which wouldn't be too bad, even though he's, you know, a FICTIONAL CHARACTER. But then what if I married one of my versions of adult Harry? (See here: http://www.verbal-vomit.com/2011/07/harry-potter-needs-therapy.html)

"Hannah, when are you going to stop somehow including Harry Potter in all of your posts?!" Never. The answer is never, so be quiet. 

Harry and I will live in an Apartment in Forks, Washington. I imagine Forks is actually a lovely little place. Or it was, before it was became a scary pilgrimage spot for die-hard Twilight - excuse me, Twihard - fans.You're probably thinking living in an apartment in a beautiful area of Washington state with Harry Potter doesn't sound too bad.

But then you also need to know that my occupation will be a Cat. I'll wait while you process that. YES A CAT.  It's a pretty ambiguous career, and Annie and Maggie really didn't have much to say on it besides "You're going to work as a Cat, Hannah." This could be a number of things, some of which I still haven't dared entertain the thought of.

So I'm going to pretend that I was bitten by a radioactive feral cat and turned into one.

It doesn't get better from here. How much money does one earn being a Cat? Well, no money, as it goes. As a Cat, I will be paid in Burritos. So that's good. I guess we'll never go hungry, right? Burritos all the time. Everyday burritos.

How will I get to and from my job as a Cat? I must have a car, or a mode of transportation, right? Not exactly. Of course, fate grants me the worst "car" ever.

I will be driving a Cardboard Box...wait for it....pulled by cats. This should make sense, since I am an occupational Cat. I'd like to imagine I am perhaps the Queen of the Cats, or...maybe its just as scary as you're imagining.

We also own a pet. You're probably thinking our pet will be a cat, since that would be a natural assumption to make, because of the whole team of cats that pull me around town. But we will actually have a pet Piece of Ham. I...really don't have an explanation for this one.

Over the years, Harry and I will become the proud parents of TEN children. Those poor children. A Burrito Cat (this is what I'm calling it now) as a Mother, and a fictional boy-wizard as a Father. Not to mention a disgusting pet. And since I'll probably be constantly strung out on whatever it was that made me think it was a good idea to keep a piece of ham as a pet, Harry will probably end up naming all of our kids really stupid things.

Once our children move out and go to Hogwarts or whatever, my entire life will go even more downhill.

I will, of course, eventually die. In this particular game of MASH we included how and when I will die. There is some good new and some bad news.

The good news (good?) is that I'll die at the ripe age of 90, probably looking like a big sack of flesh with some cat ears. The bad news, is that I will die in a freak explosion. All Annie and Maggie wrote down was Dryer+Flames. This didn't make sense to me at first, until they explained that I will be inside of a tumble dryer...which will then cause me to catch on fire.

Still didn't make sense. Still doesn't make sense. I've spent a while figuring out under what circumstances I would need to be in in order to meet my fiery end inside of a dryer. This is the best explanation I have.

That was the story of how my life is probably going to unravel into complete madness. If any of this actually happens, please kill me before it gets to the point where I'm screaming at a piece of ham.

Margaret's Pets

My friend recently scanned these and put them on his blog. I had actually sort of forgotten about this little story. I think I did this in 2007, before I had been accepted into the Illustration program.

So, here it is for you to enjoy/be disturbed while I finish up the next post.

THE END

Rats, Ringworm, and Fake Teeth

PART ONE: THE FRONT TEETH DEBACLE

When I was fifteen my front tooth was knocked out in a freak swing accident. (I'm pretty sure public parks have always hated me and yes, I used to be blond).

I had a cap put on my tooth for four years, until I was able to get it replaced with a porcelain one. When I was going to get my new front tooth made, we decided that I would have BOTH my front teeth replaced. This way they would match in color and size. The whole thing, we'll call it The Front Teeth Debacle, spanned 4 months of the 19th year of my life.

First, my temporary teeth popped out when I bit my fingernail.

Then my new porcelain teeth were blue.

They gave me more temporary ones while they fixed the color. The second set of temporary teeth weren't even a set. They were just one big tooth with a little groove cut in the middle.

It was kinda gross.  Then my other tooth got infected and they had to do a root canal on BOTH of them. Then that big tooth with the groove popped out too. (this time while I ate a carrot).

After I finally got my beautiful new white porcelain front teeth,

the one on my right side would NOT stay in my mouth.

I'm pretty sure it fell out at least 5 times. I felt like I had been punched in the mouth over the span of four months.

(Some back story: Now, I was living in a really nacky apartment complex just west of my college campus with three of my friends. My boyfriend was living in NY until January (where he's from) and the teeth incident started in October. He had been gone since April, and I had just began to get used to him being gone.)


 PART TWO: IMPULSE RAT-BUYING

I love pets. More specifically, I love rats. I imagine I am one of the few who loves them. Even their tails. A lot of people say something along the lines of "Rats are cute, except for their tails....." and then they shudder, as if their tails still have plague bacteria on them or something.

By the way, rats never spread the plague. The fleas living in their fur spread the bacteria. But rats CAN give humans a cute little fungus called (foreshadowing) RINGWORM.(/foreshadowing) 

 One day in mid-November (I'm pretty sure this was when I had my second set of temporary teeth), I was at the pet store for some reason that I don't remember. It probably wasn't a good reason. This particular pet store is owned by the angriest man I have EVER met. I think he really hates every living thing on earth, and he owns a PET STORE.

At this pet store the rats caught my eye.

I went and asked grouchy pet store guy if he would help me get one of the rats to buy. I picked the one that seemed the most unique and payed for him. I don't remember when or why, but his name became Rasputin.

(Quick side-note: Some people shop impulsively. I impulsively buy animals.)

Rasputin was only alone for about a week before I decided he needed  a friend. I went back to the pet store and bought him a BFF, whom I named Sauron.  Turns out Rasputin is a food whore, because Sauron died after Rasputin ate ALL OF HIS FOOD EVERYDAY.

It sucked because the two rats were under Erika's supervision while I was away for Thanksgiving. Sorry again, Erika.

After I put Sauron in the freezer so I could bury him later, I went and bought Rasputin another friend. This time it was a girl rat which I named Desdemona. For some reason I must have forgotten about the reproduction process , because if I could go back in time, I would NOT have bought a female rat. Rasputin liked her WAY too much.

PART C: RINGWORM: IT'S NOT ACTUALLY A WORM

It was around the time I got Desdemona that I started noticing Rasputin's weird "rash" that was starting to spread all over his back.

But I didn't really care. I still let him crawl all over me.

When I went home for Christmas, I began noticing similar rashes and red circular patches forming on my skin. It was a tad worrisome. By the time I flew back to college about 10 circular patches had appeared on my neck, chest, and back.

It only got worse. I went to the campus health center, where the somewhat disgusted doctor diagnosed me with ringworm.

He asked if I had been hanging around wild animals.

Right. I probably got it from all of the feral cats and dogs that I use for a bed.

I went straight to the pet store to ask the angry pet man why his rats had ringworm.

THEN WHERE DID I GET IT, HUH.

A couple days later I was sitting, wrapped up in my roommate's blanket, watching TV and eating pasta alone. By then about 10 more nasty red rings had appeared on my body. I was the only one back from Christmas vacation, and it was freezing because the heat in our apartment didn't work. As I ate some pasta, that same loser front tooth came out of its place and onto my tongue.

Seriously? I was eating PASTA. I felt pretty crappy. I had no tooth,  I was freezing cold, and I was covered with a highly contagious fungus that made me look like like a leper. I certainly felt like a leper, isolated and unable to interact with anybody but my rats...

Okay. That sounds more like Willard. 

I called the dentist and made an appointment to have my tooth reattached. But the appointment wasn't for another three days, and I started my new job the NEXT day. I had no idea what I was going to do, so I spent most of the evening practicing holding my tooth to the little nubbin of my old tooth that had been underneath it with my tongue. It worked pretty well, and would stay lodged in there as long as I didn't talk too much.

PART FOUR: DISASTER

I worked at the candy counter on campus but had just gotten a new job as an Illustrator for Independent Study. I tried my best to cover up all of my ringworm (I was NOT missing the first day of work) and I went to my new office.

My supervisor showed me where I sat and he gave me an assignment to start on. I don't even remember what the assignment was because I was so nervous about somebody seeing what a monster I was underneath my scarf. I tried keeping my mouth shut, only saying hello and my name to my new coworkers. I hoped that they would just think I was shy, and not toothless and diseased.

Then he walked in. This guy who I had had an art class with the previous semester and thought was really cute. He works here?! I felt sick to my stomach as he started to walk toward me, waving. Please don't say hi. 

 

I noticed that he was staring at my neck. 

 

My scarf had slipped down a little, revealing a bit of the horrendous secret rat fungus all over my body.

  My brain felt like exploding.

In the process of fixing my tooth my scarf slipped even more, and there was no WAY he could miss the ringworm. I had to make a decision. Would I explain why I looked like such a disaster? I could tell him it was ringworm. Or maybe hickies. But neither explanation was something someone would want to hear about.  "Don't even worry, Cute Art Class Guy, these red rings all over me are just a fungus that my pet rats gave me. Oh, and this tooth? It's just a cool trick I can do. "

So I just stayed silent as he smiled and sat down a few seats away from me. I sat in silent horror for the rest of my shift and hurried home without saying anything to anybody.

This isn't all.

Let me remind you. In a week's time my boyfriend, who I hadn't seen in 8 months, was coming back to school. We had talked and worked out all the travel plans and what time I needed to be at the airport to pick him up. The night before, I couldn't sleep very well. For some reason sleeping on the couch always helps. So I crashed on our couch and had a night filled with stress dreams about being late to the airport, him not actually showing up, my teeth falling out...

I realized in utter horror what was happening. I had to leave for the airport in half an hour.

In a crazed state I stumbled across the room to find my phone and called the dentist.

I have never put clothes on faster than I did that morning. I didn't even care that they cringed at the ringworm on my neck as they put me in the dentist chair. I was just so glad that my boyfriend wouldn't have to see me with ringworm AND toothless. Now he only had to see me with ringworm.

EPILOGUE

Rasputin and Desdemona went on to have 8 rat babies, all born on Valentine's Day. Desdemona ate one of them, and Hannah kept the rest. This was a horrible idea.

Hannah's front teeth were finally fixed, and haven't fallen out since.

The Ringworm spread to Hannah's friend Erika, who miraculously only had 2 or 3 circular rashes. WTF. 

Hannah and her boyfriend broke up a few months after, but it was unrelated to her fake teeth or her skin fungus.

Hannah's current boyfriend doesn't need to worry about anything like this ever happening again. Ever.