When I was little and my mom would make me do chores, I would call myself Cinderella.
When I was nine, I went through this whole ILOVETINKERBELL phase that lasted until I was
I was mildly (okay, a lot) disappointed when the husband picked me up in Jeep instead of a magic carpet for our first date. He had all the doors and windows off and it was thirty degrees and the wind was biting at my face, so it was kinda like experiencing A Whole New World, in that I finally knew what it felt like to be Frosty's mistress.
When I had my first Big Girl job, where I was paid to make important decisions like should we copy this flyer on tangerine or sanguine colored paper? my coworkers called me Snow White.
You guys remember Snow White. How all the little woodland critters flocked to her, and she to them, and they'd sing and play and dance and have a grand ol' time and NEVER ONCE DID ONE OF THE WOODLAND CRITTERS KILL ONE OF THE OTHER CRITTERS.
That's me. That's my life. Me and the animals? BFFs forever ever.
To say that I LOVE ANIMALS, is an understatement. Even animals I hate, I love. You guys know I'm terrified of lizards, but I don't want them to die. Snakes are evil, but I don't want them to die. Alligators will drown you and eat you, but they have their place in this world, and I don't want them to die. Roaches are...okay roaches are gross and I kill those. But any other bug that enters the house, I make the husband catch and release back into the wild.
Well, except for spiders. I kill those too because they can bite you and kill you. But sometimes I let them live...and become BFFs with them.
After Christmas, the husband and I spent the week in a cabin in North Carolina. There was a spider living in our bathroom. I saw it and thought I should kill you. But I had nothing with which to kill it, so it lived another day.
The next day, I saw it and thought Oh, right. I'm supposed to kill you. But then I didn't.
On day three, I was all, oh hey there little spider. don't you look cute today!
By day four I had named it.
Day five, CharChar was missing.
I asked the husband if he had killed her and told myself not to get angry at him for murdering my pet.
The husband said that he hadn't.
"She left without saying goodbye?!" True story, I said that.
I was rather devastated that CharChar had just packed up her web and left, but then I remembered the old adage, if you love something, let it go, if it comes back and lays a million spider eggs in your ear while you sleep, it's yours.
We all know that every Disney movie has a villain. Snow White had the witch, Ariel had an octopus with heaving bosoms, Simba had a jealous uncle of questionable sexual orientation.
My Disney-movie-life is no different. Except the villain in my movie isn't some distant hideous beast that lurks about in the shadows. My villain is perhaps the most complex evil character of all time, for the simple fact that it is not my hated enemy, but something that I love. My villain is my child. My son.
My villain is...my dog.
Remember when I said I was like Snow While because me and the critters were BFFs and sang and played and everyone got along and NEVER ONCE DID ONE OF THE WOODLAND CRITTERS KILL ONE OF THE OTHER CRITTERS?
Well, those shouty caps? That's where me and Snow White differ (well that and the whole being-followed-around-by-seven-creepy-singing-old-men thing).
You see, Snow White never had to begin her day by screaming at her dog, "Oh no, Cody! What are doing?! What do you have?!! Drop it! DROP IT! WHAT DID YOU KILL?!!!"
Snow White never had to stand over one of her small furry critters and wonder if it was a bunny, or a squirrel, or maybe a bunny, or maybe a... OH MY GOSH WHERE IS ITS HEAD?!!!
Snow White never had to do or say or wonder any of those things, but I did. Thanks to my blood-thirsty Evil Cody, I had the pleasure of shouting, "DID YOU EAT ITS HEAD?!" at 9:00 this morning, which I'm sure all of my neighbors thoroughly enjoyed.
The husband, who left work to come home and dispose of the corpse, confirmed that it was a bunny. And its head was still there, it was just, uh, hard to recognize.
Every Disney movie ends with the words "And they all lived happily ever after." (okay, so that's not true, but it's totally implied.) But in my Disney movie, no words are farther from the truth. It wasn't happily ever after for the husband who had to deal with a hysterical wife, or for me who is traumatized beyond repair, nor for my therapist whose number has been moved to the top of my speed dial list, and it certainly wasn't happily ever after for that bunny. That poor, poor bunny.
No one is this fairytale is living happily ever after. Well, except for Evil Cody. He seems pretty happy. In fact, I'd say it's the best damn day of his whole life.