As much as I love aminals this cracked me up. Just promise me there wont be a follow up story on how Beverly Hills Chihuahua's suddenly came down with the Swine Flu and got arrested by border patrols on their magical journey home.
I *cannot handle* these kinds of movies at all. It just makes me feel too ill to think of poor little kitties and pups all lost and far from home. These kids I used to babysit for always wanted to watch Milo and Otis, and I had to come up with creative distractions to get them to forget about it. Because Milo and Otis? Is too too much for me.
Bless you, Onion, even if that does make me want to go home and hug my kitties. Although many things do, really.
If my cats somehow got lost with a dog, the first thing they would do is kill the dog. Well, the girl kitty would. The orange guy might just sit there and whine and watch.
I love it. Skewering cutesy movies is something I can really appreciate. Although I might be biased, because the term "heartwarming" makes me irrationally angry. Always has. Therefore anything containing any references to that term is automatically placed on my hate list.
My friend whose family has a 15 year old Golden Retriever is STILL furious that no one warned her about the ending of Marley and Me I can kind of understand.
My dad and I were riding home late one night. We lived in the country where there were no streetlights and plenty of wild life. In the glow of the headlights I saw a little figure sitting in the middle of the road. As we got nearer I made out the form of a young owl. I waited for my dad's foot to switch from the accelerator to the brake.
It didn't.
Just before the front bumper made contact with the little owl, I saw it turn its heads and its wide eyes stare into the blinding headlights. I shrieked. Dad's foot never left the gas pedal. There was a soft thud followed by my Dad's angry voice ordering me to hush up and not scare him while he was at the wheel.
I sobbed and begged him to stop the car, so I could have a look. He was annoyed, but finally compromised and turned back. As a conciliatory gesture he offered to get out and "kick it to the side of the road."
True story. Ugh. Still love my daddy, though. He was a very poor farm boy and wasn't sentimental about animals.
@hello.kitty: ugh... I know I0m going to sound awful, but for safety reasons what your dad did was right, it's always worse to break. I can't drive but that's what I've been told.
@Ailatan: This is basically, in a nutshell, what happened to me this morning. I was going around a curve and there was a pigeon in the road in front of me. Instead of risking losing complete control of my car by breaking hard in a curve, I just kept going. Poor guy tried to fly away. The thud of him hitting my windshield and going upwards will haunt me for the rest of the day, maybe even week.
I did go back by myself with a shovel and flashlights. The little guy was gone, so I assumed he wasn't terribly injured. I searched the area thoroughly.
@hello.kitty: That's defintiely what they teach you in driving school (at least that's what they do in Canada), but my impression was always that you have to assess if it would be a danger to brake (say, in the rain or snow, or if being followed closely by another car). It's not ALWAYS dangerous to brake, if you can do it and keep your car in control.
That being said, I'm sorry you had that traumatic experience. I'd still be guilting my dad about that if I were in your position. I'd also make him pay for my therapy (I'm an animal wuss).
@hello.kitty: I was driving home to my parents' house late one nite and hit an entire family of raccoons. Or MAY HAVE. The last thing I remember is watching the mama and babies realize what was happening and start to scramble out of the way. I slammed on the brakes (yes, bad idea) and didn't feel a bump, but it seemed impossible that I could have avoided hitting at least one of them. I drove on in hysterics, arrived home and sobbing, told my dad (hunter/fisherman, equally unsentimental about animals) and asked if he would go look in the morning to see if I'd hit one. He did, and said there was nothing there. I have always suspected that he wiped dead baby raccoon off the highway so I would never have to know. I love my dad.
@thecameralovesyou: It was a clear summer night, so he could have braked. I vented to my mom who had sympathy.
@thecameralovesyou: Once I hit a baby squirrel and could NOT stop. From my sideview mirror I could see he was bleeding, but I was at an intersection, so.....ugh.
For some reason, it never occurred to me a coyote would have picked that cat off instantly. The old dog would have over-exerted himself and the young dog with behavioral problems would have been hit by a car.
We had a cat who was attacked by another cat and was missing for two weeks, and then one day we found her crawling using only her front legs across the yard. We took her to the vet, and she had a fever and a terrible abcess. My mom stayed awake all night feeding her water with an eye dropper, and she survived.
Only to run away and live with the neighbors two years later.
@morninggloria: I have a story like that. My favorite cat growing up was a very independent tomcat. We moved one summer to a house about 15 miles away, and could not find him anywhere during the time we were moving. I was heartbroken until he showed up one day at our NEW house, having somehow tracked us down. Then a year or two later, we got a dog, and he left for good. It was pretty clear he was not interested in sharing the household when I saw him hanging out at the neighbors house a few months later. He barely acknowledged me, sniff.
@morninggloria: When my dad's family moved from Cincinnati to New Jersey, the family cat took one look at the packed moving van and said "Peace out." They never saw it again.
@BabyJane: Did you guys hear that story a couple months ago about a cat in Michigan wandered away from its house and to some shipping factory where it accidentally got packaged in a box and sent to France? And then when the French factory workers opened the box they were all "Mon Dieu! WTF?!" but so they managed to call the original family because of its collar and said "Allo, vee haave your keeetie," and then sent it back to the family.
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If my cats somehow got lost with a dog, the first thing they would do is kill the dog. Well, the girl kitty would. The orange guy might just sit there and whine and watch.
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It didn't.
Just before the front bumper made contact with the little owl, I saw it turn its heads and its wide eyes stare into the blinding headlights. I shrieked. Dad's foot never left the gas pedal. There was a soft thud followed by my Dad's angry voice ordering me to hush up and not scare him while he was at the wheel.
I sobbed and begged him to stop the car, so I could have a look. He was annoyed, but finally compromised and turned back. As a conciliatory gesture he offered to get out and "kick it to the side of the road."
True story. Ugh. Still love my daddy, though. He was a very poor farm boy and wasn't sentimental about animals.
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Yup, that was his reasoning I believe.
I did go back by myself with a shovel and flashlights. The little guy was gone, so I assumed he wasn't terribly injured. I searched the area thoroughly.
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That being said, I'm sorry you had that traumatic experience. I'd still be guilting my dad about that if I were in your position. I'd also make him pay for my therapy (I'm an animal wuss).
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@thecameralovesyou: Once I hit a baby squirrel and could NOT stop. From my sideview mirror I could see he was bleeding, but I was at an intersection, so.....ugh.
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Once I was thrilled to see road kill. It was a Canadian goose. Those creatures are evil. EVIL I tell you.
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Why yes, my heart is as cold and black as iron.
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Only to run away and live with the neighbors two years later.
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Merci.
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Sure this didn't happen to Ernest Hemingway? Because I'm getting shades of EAST OF EDEN....
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Was the park ranger wonder why Vivica Fox was snacking on road kill?
What a waste of road kill, dumb gruff but kindhearted trucker.
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Make it a habit
to pick up your rabbit
don't let him dry out in the sun
for the sake of a garment
recover your varmint
what a waste, to just hit and run
(From a song I heard on NPR (Prairie Home, maybe?) about 20 years ago...)
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