Post by larryh86gt on Jun 13, 2010 15:00:34 GMT -6
Ok monitors. If it's not PG13 remove it. I don't want to upset the faint hearted. Hey, it's not religious or political. ;D
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome,
including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will
have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was
"something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his
room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can
you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into
his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back,
looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Hey" I called, "come
look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie" I was
equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to
reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired
(I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!"
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she
informed me (Again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I
shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're
about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny
foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next
appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more
times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know.
"Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here
with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my
son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured."Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to
you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In
fact, that isn't EVER going to happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a
young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male
species, they um . . Um . . . Masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on
his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just . Just . . . Excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
And then even laugh loudly." Tears were now running down her face. "It's
just that, I'm picturing you pulling on its, Its Teeny little . . " She
gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the
lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to
be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $40.00
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class.
Lizards lay eggs!
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome,
including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will
have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was
"something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his
room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can
you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into
his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back,
looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Hey" I called, "come
look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie" I was
equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to
reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired
(I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!"
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she
informed me (Again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I
shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're
about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny
foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next
appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more
times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know.
"Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here
with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my
son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured."Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to
you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In
fact, that isn't EVER going to happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a
young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male
species, they um . . Um . . . Masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on
his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just . Just . . . Excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
And then even laugh loudly." Tears were now running down her face. "It's
just that, I'm picturing you pulling on its, Its Teeny little . . " She
gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the
lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to
be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $40.00
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class.
Lizards lay eggs!
Indeed -