Saturday, March 21, 2009

Meow meow, hiss hiss, fuck off, take me to kitty cemetery

OK, by the time you've gotten to be 48 years old, you think you've seen or heard almost everything, but you know you haven't and you wonder when that next divinely ridiculous moment will arrive.

For me, it was at 1:13 a.m. today. It was a post from a wacky-zany-lovey-dovey homeschooling mom on one of the Yahoo estrogen homeschooling groups I'm a member of (and about the only testosterone member of). Here's the post under the heading "anyone know an animal communicator?" (hey, you, in the back row, stop giggling!):

"I would much rather get a recommendation from someone here than a website or google! Does anyone know of a pet communicator in the Atlanta/North area? We are in Woodstock and I just don't trust myself on this issue. I'm too close. I could really use someone who can help me know our cat's thoughts/feelings. I would be most appreciative." -- Ms. R


Oh, I'm not done with you yet, my dear readers. There's more. Here are a few responses to that email:

"I am one. I am also a medium. I'm in Kennesaw." -- Ms. T

"I am checking on one for you. I know she talks with dogs, not so sure abouts cats. I'll forward on when I get the info." -- Ms. A

(Well, duh, cats speak the language of "fuck off and leave me alone" and dogs speak the language of Sally Fields: "You like me! You really like me!")

Here's M. R's response to Ms. T.

"T-----, I would really appreciate your help on this. Would you want to come here, or do it from home, how do you work? What are your rates for this? Tinker is ill and various body functions are starting to fail. I don't want her to hang on just for us, but I don't want to push her away before she is ready either."

If I speak now, I ruin the moment. Talk amongst yourselves.

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