edroxton
08-12-2004, 05:49 PM
My apartment near The Bronx Zoo is currently being renovated, so last Tuesday I called my oldest sister Ivy to see if she could put me up for a couple of days. The moment she was about to open the door, my asthma began to kick in, my eyes became watery, and my face itched all over. Two things usually trigger it: a filthy litter box and people who have forgotten how their shower works. I immediately thought about checking into a motel nearby, but they don't take overnights. Besides, I didn't want to offend my beloved sister.
She asked me if she could get me anything, I asked for a broom. The place was a real barn; one that hasn't been cleaned in months. She had fish in the bathroom sink, a couple of pickpocket Capuchin monkeys screeching all over the place, a dozen white mice in the same tank with a baby python that Ivy claims "won't grow anymore," a ferret, four hamsters in a cage, a litter of kittens breastfeeding inside an underwear drawer, a few geckos to control the roaches, a dirty-talking cockatoo, and three turtles in the bathtub that she snagged from the Bronx River. All this in a two-bedroom apartment on St. Ann's Ave. Oh, and don't forget Percy, one of those Angora cats with an affinity for refrigerators. Whenever he's "lost" my sister knows exactly where to find him.
That night I took a few puffs of Albuterol for the asthma and tried to get some sleep. I couldn't. This is a rough neighborhood, so the moment I heard noise from the living room I got up and searched for something to defend myself with since I was in this mini-jungle all by myself. The figurines on the wall divider kept flying onto the floor, and although scared out of my wits my inquisitive nature won over. I had to find out. I approached the divider and there they were: the two large iguanas my sister told me about, Charlie and Isabella, embroiled in a marital scuffle. They were kind of cute ... in an ugly sort of way. So I left them alone. After all, who said Lovers' Lane was easy?
Early the following morning I was packing to leave as Ivy stumbled in from a ferocious girls' night out. The curious iguanas had stalked me throughout the night. They'd barge into the bathroom while I was on the toilet, hopped on my chest and stared at my face while I tried to sleep, kept knocking the newspaper out of my hands, and then had the nerve to help themselves to my scrambled eggs while I went to the kitchen for OJ. When I tried to take the plate away, they hissed and tried to bite me. Ivy said they were just being friendly. Right. ... Well, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go.
I'm a confirmed pet lover, but this kind of living conditions is insane. I urged Ivy to seek psychiatric help, for being comfortable in all this filth isn't normal. Apparently there's something missing in her life that she has replaced with all these creatures. Besides, she has that look in her eyes like she went out to lunch a long time ago and never came back. I love her to death, but not enough to commisserate amidst the feces and the endless stench. If I'm to lose sleep, let it be at my own place.
She asked me if she could get me anything, I asked for a broom. The place was a real barn; one that hasn't been cleaned in months. She had fish in the bathroom sink, a couple of pickpocket Capuchin monkeys screeching all over the place, a dozen white mice in the same tank with a baby python that Ivy claims "won't grow anymore," a ferret, four hamsters in a cage, a litter of kittens breastfeeding inside an underwear drawer, a few geckos to control the roaches, a dirty-talking cockatoo, and three turtles in the bathtub that she snagged from the Bronx River. All this in a two-bedroom apartment on St. Ann's Ave. Oh, and don't forget Percy, one of those Angora cats with an affinity for refrigerators. Whenever he's "lost" my sister knows exactly where to find him.
That night I took a few puffs of Albuterol for the asthma and tried to get some sleep. I couldn't. This is a rough neighborhood, so the moment I heard noise from the living room I got up and searched for something to defend myself with since I was in this mini-jungle all by myself. The figurines on the wall divider kept flying onto the floor, and although scared out of my wits my inquisitive nature won over. I had to find out. I approached the divider and there they were: the two large iguanas my sister told me about, Charlie and Isabella, embroiled in a marital scuffle. They were kind of cute ... in an ugly sort of way. So I left them alone. After all, who said Lovers' Lane was easy?
Early the following morning I was packing to leave as Ivy stumbled in from a ferocious girls' night out. The curious iguanas had stalked me throughout the night. They'd barge into the bathroom while I was on the toilet, hopped on my chest and stared at my face while I tried to sleep, kept knocking the newspaper out of my hands, and then had the nerve to help themselves to my scrambled eggs while I went to the kitchen for OJ. When I tried to take the plate away, they hissed and tried to bite me. Ivy said they were just being friendly. Right. ... Well, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go.
I'm a confirmed pet lover, but this kind of living conditions is insane. I urged Ivy to seek psychiatric help, for being comfortable in all this filth isn't normal. Apparently there's something missing in her life that she has replaced with all these creatures. Besides, she has that look in her eyes like she went out to lunch a long time ago and never came back. I love her to death, but not enough to commisserate amidst the feces and the endless stench. If I'm to lose sleep, let it be at my own place.