Since it's Stupid Day over at smellshorsey, I thought it could be stupid day here, too.
But I will immediately interrupt myself: One day a friend's child came home from school very upset. "Mom, Greg said the "s" word today." Now, Greg was the child's brother.
The mom was horrified. Right before she brought the Wrath of Mom down on Greg, she had the sense to ask, "What 's' word did he say?"
Her daughter whispered the answer: stupid!
So, forgive me those of you who have been taught that "stupid" is the new "s" word.
I bring this up because I'm trying to keep from having to tell you the story of the stupidest thing I've ever said. Because it is really stupid.
One spring break Tiger (ferocious outdoor cat) caught a baby bunny. The poor thing screamed, and if you've never heard a rabbit scream, try to keep it that way. It's a soul-chilling sound. We got the baby bunny away from Tiger, but it was slightly injured with a couple of puncture wounds. It looked otherwise very healthy (though that could change from the bite). And it was SO cute!
We put the bunny in a big plastic storage box (no lid but partly covered with a towel to give the baby bunny some sense of shelter) and carried it to the local wildlife rescue center, which may as well be in another state. As it turns out, it is probably on another planet.
There was a woman poking around in the weeds in front of the wildlife center. She had long scraggly hair and was harvesting some grass. As I got out of the car, she looked at me, and as if she had psychic powers, she pronounced, "Bunny." Now, our box was opaque, so how did she know it was a bunny?
She began to remind me of the "witch" in Thomasina. "Yes," I said, mystified.
"Follow me," she said and walked away from us. And Lily and I followed. It was then that I saw something I have never, ever seen before.
In her hair, hanging upside down, were four baby possums. You have to be generous to find adult, fully formed and fully furred possums attractive. These baby possums didn't have much fur. You could see skin. And there was something Gollom-like about their tightly gripping claws. They hung and swung in her hair as she walked. And it was then that I noticed yellow urine spots all over her shoulders. I didn't even want to think about what was in her hair.
We entered the building and she turned to face me. We had paperwork to fill out, the baby bunny to attend to, and of course, the matter of a financial contribution and a belled collar for my cat. But I couldn't follow any of that. I asked her to turn around again.
I checked. Yes, indeed. There were baby possums hanging in her hair and peeing on her shoulders. And that's when I said the stupidest thing I have ever said. I asked, "Are those real?"
They did sort of resemble rubber chickens, which is my only excuse. But who would buy baby rubber possums and hang them in their hair? Indeed, who buys rubber chickens?
"Yes," she answered. "I'm their mom. I let them ride around every day after they eat."
Maybe it wouldn't have been such a stupid question if it had been, "Lady, are you real?"
