And now, in honor of Katie Cassidy being an evil immoral douchebag for lying to the cops -- *ahem* -- I give you my "lying to a cop" story.
My mom's regular vet, the same one she's been taking cats to for the past thirty years now, is located in the middle of nowhere. Now, my hometown is in the middle of nowhere but this vet's office is even deeper in the sticks than that. It's a good thirty-to-forty minute drive into hills and farmland and there's not a real town for miles. And every once in a while I have to drive one of her cats there.
Every one of the cats has his quirks. Some of them love riding in the car. Some of them get sick as soon as you show them one. Jasper was the worst of the lot. He was perfectly behaved at home, perfectly behaved at the vet, and a complete fucking basket case in a car. Stuff came out of every opening that cat had -- puke, drool, shit, piss, and sometimes just for fun a little blood just to make it really interesting. He wasn't hurt, he was just really REALLY carsick. I mean, when my eternally-motion-sick ass is looking at you and going, "Jesus, you should probably mainline some Dramamine, sweets," you are really pushing the amount of bodily fluid you should realistically be able to eject from every orifice.
This was also coupled with the classic Siamese yowl. Jasper almost never meowed louder than a whisper in the house but get him in a car and he yelled. It sounded as if he were half-Siamese-cat and half-dying-operatic-bagpipes.
And when Jasper suffered, YOU suffered. Those car rides sucked on toast, which was why I tended to speed when he was in the car.
You can probably see what was coming. I'm taking him for shots, he starts yowling and puking, I speed up, I get pulled over.
So the cop comes up to the window and asks for my ID and stuff, and while I'm digging it out she peeks in the backseat. And there's Jasper, foaming at the mouth and yakking up puke, the stench of diarrhea and cat piss hanging in the air and that goddamn yowl sounding off continuously.
"Oh, my God, what's wrong with your cat?" she asked.
Now, I had two options --
1. Tell her that I was just taking him for a shot and he tended to get really scary-carsick.
2. Lie.
So I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye and said, "I don't know what's wrong with him, I found him like this when I got home from work, he's my mom's cat, homigod, I hope he doesn't die --"
She couldn't wave me off fast enough.
My mom's regular vet, the same one she's been taking cats to for the past thirty years now, is located in the middle of nowhere. Now, my hometown is in the middle of nowhere but this vet's office is even deeper in the sticks than that. It's a good thirty-to-forty minute drive into hills and farmland and there's not a real town for miles. And every once in a while I have to drive one of her cats there.
Every one of the cats has his quirks. Some of them love riding in the car. Some of them get sick as soon as you show them one. Jasper was the worst of the lot. He was perfectly behaved at home, perfectly behaved at the vet, and a complete fucking basket case in a car. Stuff came out of every opening that cat had -- puke, drool, shit, piss, and sometimes just for fun a little blood just to make it really interesting. He wasn't hurt, he was just really REALLY carsick. I mean, when my eternally-motion-sick ass is looking at you and going, "Jesus, you should probably mainline some Dramamine, sweets," you are really pushing the amount of bodily fluid you should realistically be able to eject from every orifice.
This was also coupled with the classic Siamese yowl. Jasper almost never meowed louder than a whisper in the house but get him in a car and he yelled. It sounded as if he were half-Siamese-cat and half-dying-operatic-bagpipes.
And when Jasper suffered, YOU suffered. Those car rides sucked on toast, which was why I tended to speed when he was in the car.
You can probably see what was coming. I'm taking him for shots, he starts yowling and puking, I speed up, I get pulled over.
So the cop comes up to the window and asks for my ID and stuff, and while I'm digging it out she peeks in the backseat. And there's Jasper, foaming at the mouth and yakking up puke, the stench of diarrhea and cat piss hanging in the air and that goddamn yowl sounding off continuously.
"Oh, my God, what's wrong with your cat?" she asked.
Now, I had two options --
1. Tell her that I was just taking him for a shot and he tended to get really scary-carsick.
2. Lie.
So I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye and said, "I don't know what's wrong with him, I found him like this when I got home from work, he's my mom's cat, homigod, I hope he doesn't die --"
She couldn't wave me off fast enough.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 12:54 am (UTC)and i can only think - I bet Katie wishes she had a carsick cat with her!
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Date: 2007-11-16 01:04 am (UTC)*is really thankful Estella was so well-behaved in the car yesterday as long as Jason Manns was playing*
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Date: 2007-11-16 01:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 01:17 am (UTC)I relayed your story to my fiance and he chuckled and said "so, the police officer obviously never had a cat..." (When he and his cat moved in, Mr. Man Kitty ran under the bed and didn't come out for three days, he was so pissed...)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 03:26 am (UTC)"Go go go go ... Stop? OH NOES!"
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Date: 2007-11-16 01:29 am (UTC)1. Attempt to break free of said carrier, either shredding the soft type or shredding his paws on a hard-side type.
2. Empty three cats' worth of shit into the carrier.
3. Continue to try to escape while yowling bloody murder, thus coating himself in the shit.
He has spike Cat-Vicious style hair in the first pictures of "This is your forever home, kitty!" due to the immediate bath he received.
Solution was to just let him roam the car without a carrier. Now he only yowls when Elton John comes on the radio.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 01:59 am (UTC)I can't lie for shit! I once was pulled over by cops with 3 of my friends just for checking our ID actually. Anyway I was smoking a joint and my friend had like 2g of weed on her, so we get rid of everything by the window (she actually swallow the weed! I threw the joint out the window!) the cops came to us , asked me what I threw and I said nothing so they make us exit the car one by one! When it's my time to get out, I saw the joint butt on the cop's car and they're asking me if it's mine! And I'm like so scared, because I work in a school and I so don't need a criminal report and It's only been a year since I'm living on my own and my mom is sooo gonna kill me; so I don't answer! Anyway the cop is starting to get pissed and ask me why I threw a butt joint out the window when I saw them, talking louder and louder! My brains shortcut and I just blurted out ":There wasn't anything to smoke anymore!!" And that actually got me off the hook!!! The cop told me :"Well! That makes sense!" and after checking the car they let us leave!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 03:22 am (UTC)This is a hilarious story.
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Date: 2007-11-16 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 04:03 am (UTC)I don't have any "lying to cops" stories because I'm ridiculously well behaved for a teenager.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 06:18 am (UTC)My only lying to the cops story involves being under age, a little drunk and the cop mistaking me for a guy.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-16 11:12 am (UTC)Very good work. Aw, the cops face must have been priceless! =P