I knew a lady who had a pet deer. In her house. Watching tv. She also had a raccoon walking around. I knew a guy who kept his tarantula in his truck at night so that no one would steal the truck. My aunt had a bobcat. When I was about four, the big cat stalked me slowly across the room, jumped on my head and attacked. I knew a guy who had hissing cockroaches the size of rats as pets, and a lady with aquariums full of highly poisonous rattlesnakes in her bedroom. She also had a fat black scorpion with claws like a crab. Our neighbor had a nutria (sort of a water rat with scary orange teeth), a tortoise that must have been ancient, and a cotton mouth snake that got out of its cage and was found days later on the curtain rod. I knew a lady who had a wolf in her fenced backyard. It was massive with Little Red Riding Hood teeth the size of a roll of lifesavers, sniffing nervously at us while we smoked cigarettes. She kept saying “Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Don’t make any sudden movements.” A lady down the street had a little dingo. My cousin had a squirrel that rode around on his shoulder. And one of my friends had a mean screeching little monkey. I loved that pissed off monkey. So… I was looking at La Wheeze sleeping on a pillow and wondering if she wants to be released into the wild.
Eh, prolly not.
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