For the most part, the dogs’ actions in this video are inexplicable. What do they think they’re doing, and why are they doing it? One of these critters tries to be a contortionist. Maybe he saw it on TV.
Dogs, though, have become a lot more fun since they took up with humans–don’t you think?
If you ever visit the Aberdeen Proving Ground, you’ll see a lot of vintage tanks that’ll make you wonder how anyone ever managed to get inside them and fight a battle–and how they ever got back out. But as you can see in this video, cats don’t have that problem. Neither do chihuahuas.
But we also have a couple of guinea pigs, a hamster, and a parakeet trying their luck at armored warfare. Guinea pigs really do seem to get the hang of it. The hamster is hopeless. Try to keep him out of your order of battle, if you can.
It takes a while to get a handle on all the weird stuff that goes on in a houseful of humans. Puppies haven’t lived long enough to master all the ins and outs of it. But grown-up dogs get confused, too–especially if you blow on a half-filled soda bottle. That sound really puzzles them.
“I have not forgotten my promise to explain what’s so bad about Bug-Men,” writes Violet Crepuscular, introducing Chapter CCCLXXXVI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney. “But first we must consider the vicar’s new conniptions.”
The vicar no longer thinks he’s Wally Moon, an American baseball player from the future. That delusion vanished when he discovered a particularly noisome Bug-Man perched atop his plate of falafel. This has plunged him into a whole new set of conniptions. Once again, he is not able to perform the long-awaited marriage of Lord Jeremy Coldsore and Lady Margo Cargo. He is too busy doing head-stands and singing lurid Estonian folk songs.
“Maybe we should find another vicar to marry us,” suggests Lord Jeremy.
“I don’t want us to be married to a vicar,” Lady Margo objects. It takes some time to patch up this failure to communicate. Lady Margo’s crusty old butler, Crusty, subtly implies that “Maybe two people who only confuse each other shouldn’t be married in the first place.”
“I’m not speaking to you, Crusty!”
“You just did, you daft old trout.”
This conversation might have continued for hours, but for a flood of letters from exasperated readers demanding to know what’s so bad about Bug-Men. We deem it unnecessary to provide yet another picture of a Bug-Man. Ms. Crepuscular has no choice but to keep her promise.
“These unnatural little creatures,” she explains, “carry nameless diseases which make lumbago or psoriasis seem like a walk in the park, albeit not a very nice park. They also spread baseless rumors that can start deadly feuds. This is not to be taken lightly!”
Bug-Men can only be brought onto the scene by medieval sorcerers casting evil spells on a community. Once established, they’re very hard to get rid of. They know this, and it makes them cocky.
Johnno the Merry Minstrel is investigating the problem. “Chameleons eat them,” he reports. “They’re scared to death of chameleons. You’d be, too, if you were only the size of a Bug-Man.”
At this point Ms. Crepuscular concludes the chapter: it’s time for her to watch re-runs of The Gong Show.
I never had a cat and an aquarium at the same time. My goldfish were trusting little souls; they would’ve been easy prey.
I am so glad none of these aquariums got knocked over. Really, cats sometimes do things that make you wonder if they’re quite all there. Like packing themselves into a goldfish bowl. Do they have rubber bones?
G’day! Byron the Quokka here, with the latest exciting progress report from Quokka University.
We’re going to have a School of Architecture!
Y’know, everyone thinks he can design and build a building–and look at the mess they make of it. By contrast, here I am having dinner in Quokka U’s all-new Leon G. Fuzzymuzzle Cafeteria. What a difference raw architectural know-how makes!
Once we get around to actually having students, we expect our architectural graduates to revolutionize building design all over Rottnest Island–and maybe the world. I mean, have you seen that monstrosity they call the London City Hall? Looks like a giant pimple!
Well, you can bet your last leaf that we won’t be building anything like that. Even those jimbos in London could’ve done better, if they’d used grass and sticks and twigs. And because we use all natural building materials, our city hall would’ve cost practically nothing.
We can hardly wait to open Quokka U to everyone who loves learning (and can pay the tuition!).
Whell nhow i undder-stand wye Jane Fonder she says “the” Vyris “it” “is” our Frend!!! Becose it whil finely Let “us” get ridd “Of” Chrissmiss!!!!!
Czech it Out!! Thare woont be no Santy Claws in nun “of” The stoars this yeer on accownt “of” evry Boddy thay al gets Sick And Die ((!)) iff thay gets two Close “to” eech Other,, unlest “thay” Are dooing Piecefull Protest and seting stufff On Fire!!!! The Vyris it knows! not to Hurt no one whoo is Riotting for Socile Jutstus!!!!!!!
And aslo too yiu “cant” sing no stopid Chrissmiss carals unlest yiu Keeep yur Fays Maask on and jist wisper!!!!
Sea, Chrissmiss it is Hat Speach becose its fore chrisschins and its Got Jesus In It!!!!!! Jesus he “Is” “the” Biggist Hater Biggit of themb all!!!!!!!! Reely thare “is” No Poynt in Banning Evry-Thing unlest yiu aslo Ban Jesus!! and the Bybble!!!! And it is a goood Thing for yiu that yiu got al us Interllecturals to axplane it too yiu becose stopid peeple “whoo” are Not In Collidge thay cant Think “strait”!”! thay doughnt Unnder-Stand nothing!!!!!
So thiss yeer at Our End “of” Yeer Hollowday Praty we are goingto Warship the Vyris and sing Covid carals!!!!! and nhow that we gloode the Hed back on our Statchew of Pressadint Obamma we can Warship himb tooo!!!!!!!!!!
The fact that the home invaders are various insects in no way invalidates my headline.
My cats Robbie and Peep pretty much hate each other; but let a bug invade the home, and they instantly join forces.
Note the way “Marmalade” beseeches the moths to come down from the ceiling for a stand-up fight. My cat Henry always used to do that “Come down here, you coward!” bit–but no moth ever took him up on it.