Normally, I prefer the company of our animal friends to that of our human friends, but two months here in the wilderness of the PacNW have caused some unexpected enmity when it comes to things with more than two legs.
1. The Western Jay.
No computerized digital internet narration could possibly describe the call of this heinous, heinous bird. Think of the most annoying woman you’ve ever known. (If you are blanking, think of Fran Drescher on "The Nanny," laughing). Then think of this woman having a temper tantrum and shrieking. The best I can do phonetically is: "bWAAARK? bWAAAARK? bWAAAAARK?" or perhaps "mLEEEAH? mLEEEAH? mLEEEAH?" Either way, I want to shoot them all. I don’t care that they’re all blue and cool looking, I really don’t. And I wouldn’t care if they were a more treasured part of our precious ecosystem than the plankton in the ocean. I want them all dead, I tell you, dead! Or at very least genetically modified to be mute.
2. Our Neighbor’s Fucking Dog
You know that episode of "Seinfeld" where Jerry has to dogsit for this Cujo-type monster called Farfel? And the dog is like "ROO ROO ROO ROO ROO RRRRRRRRRRRRGH ROO ROO ROO ROO ROO" and Jerry’s like "SHUT UP, FARFEL!!!!!!!" Well, imagine that ROO ROO ROO RRRRRRRGH ROOing all fucking day because my parents’ neighbor seems to enjoy leaving his fucking dog outside, osensibly neglected or at very least very lonely, all the livelong day. What’s even better is that he has a "friend."
3. Farfel’s Little Buddy
If our neighbor’s monster pit bull terrier/rottweiller/some other formidably death-causing breed were merely uttering a ROO ROO ROO ROO RRRRRRGH ROO ROO ROO ROO monologue, a ROO ROO RRRGH soliloquy, if you will, that would be one thing. However, our neighbor also seems to have a little yapper to keep Farfel company, and so to Farfel’s ROO ROO ROO RRRRGH ROO, the yapper goes YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YAAAAAAAAARGH YIP. It is awesome.
Actually, my respect for the bloodsucking, possibly fatal, definitely creepy eight-legged friends that hang out in the hundreds around my parents’ house has grown in the past weeks, simply because of their good old-fashioned American determination and abject refusal to take "no" for an answer. No matter how many times I knock down the web of this one spider bastard that sets up camp on the chaise lounge in the backyard, the little fucker has rebuilt his spidey condo the very next morning. Like that awesome "Cat Came Back" song, but with spiders.