Casual Fridays With Paul
Over the past couple months I’ve been throwing the idea of getting a pet around. I think I’m mature enough for this added responsibility and I finally landed on the perfect pet for me: Paul. Paul McNibbler, the hamster. You see, I had a hamster once, Nibbles, who lived a long and happy life. He had a number of hobbies: nibbling his way out of his cage, filling his cheeks with 3 weeks’ worth of food, and of course getting loose in moving cars. Anyways, I figured that Paul would be the ideal pet for me because it would really fit right into my lifestyle. Being a solitary animal, I could leave him alone for hours, or day if needed, I could fit him just about anywhere, and best of all, he’s got an expiration date. I’m 27 now, but by the time I’m 30, ready to buy a house and (god willing) have a family, I’ll be pet free. BOOM. DONE.
Oh, and the best part: Casual Fridays With Paul. CFWP is something that my team at work decided would probably be a great idea where Paul could come into the office on Fridays, dressed to the 9’s of course, and make his ‘rounds’ in his hamster ball. You know, just ‘roll through’ to make sure everything is running smoothly. Oh, and of course he would bring some office cheer. Most likely, he would spice up the Friday afternoons when he unavoidably would get loose the office and we all would be on a rampant hamster hunt.
Anyways, I moved recently and have kind of backed away from the thought of any new responsibilities, which is ironic because I feel like it was as soon as I gave up on this dream, it just came true without me even trying. (Never give up on your dreams, kids!) There was I sitting in my living room, watching the Wonder Years, and enjoying a pizza, when a baby opossum pops up in the middle of my living room. WHAT? SERIOUSLY? Yes, this is serious, as serious as a heart attack, which, by the way, I almost had.
I called my land lord, who set up an appointment with animal control, and ran upstairs to my neighbor, who I have known for approximately 5 minutes and probably thinks I’m crazy to come down and assist in the situation. Lucky for me, he was nice enough to come down and help me out with the situation. Between the two of (and by “between the two of us” I mean my neighbor was on the front line in the living room, while I nervously stood behind the barrier in the kitchen) we were able to get the cutesy baby opossum out the door.
The little guy didn’t even get out the door and I already missed him. A new paul was sitting there, given to me for free, and what do I do? I shoo him out the door. What kind of a pet-mother am I? I have thrown away the hopes of having a rodent-pet, I have thrown away the hope for Casual Fridays With Paul, and I have destroyed my confidence in myself as far as pet-owning goes.
As an aside: no animals were hurt in the making of this story. Paul was able to make it out alive, where he will be reunited with the rest of his opossum family, and after a thorough investigation of my apartment and the grounds around by the animal control guys, there were no more baby or mommy opossums found.
Please stay tuned for a follow up story about all the lesser known facts about opossums – they are actually a lot more interesting than you may have thought.