It’s Becoming Painfully Clear….

by pjmcbride

Ride My See-Saw

Ride My See-Saw (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How did I find out that I had previously trained Nick, apparently without noticing it? I’d grumpily said, “If I have to ride along with you, you should have to sit along with me.” “I did when I trained out there, don’t you remember?” he responded plaintively. But it wasn’t until today that I realized–OF COURSE! Why else would he have such evil glee at the prospect of our ride-along, if not FOR REVENGE? Let’s test this theory by paying him a visit….Ah, here he is, lazing in the sun….

(He quickly sits up and whips his tail tightly around himself so I can’t step on it.) “Ah, my ancient enemy! So good of you to stop by–I always enjoy our visits–but a little advance notice  would have been appreciated…”

“About this ride-along business–”

(quivering with eagerness) “Yes? Any news on that front?”

“No. I was just wondering–”

“Ah, too bad.” (becomes dreamy-eyed) “What adventures we’ll have!” (delicately scratches his eyelid with a single claw)

“But I don’t like adventures.”

“Ah. Funny how that works. I, for instance, don’t like being abused and then forgotten. But sometimes things happen…that are beyond our control.” (preens a membranous wing) “Would you prefer a motivational–flight, perhaps? Would that be more to your liking?” (watches carefully for my reaction) “Ah, it’s so hard to tell.”

“Beast, I don’t remember training you. At all.”

“You will remember. I’ll tell you everything. It will all come back, don’t worry.”

I change the subject, staying out of reach of sudden lunges. “Do you ever curl up behind the dumpster at the zoo during your shift to take a nap?”

“Are you implying that I sleep? Who needs to know?”

“It was just brought up at a meeting–as an example of a reason why officers might not want GPS-based dispatching. They didn’t mention any names, but the zoo is in your beat, and maybe you’d be visiting your friends there, and–do I hear growling?”

“Possibly. I hate to be disrespectful–you are, technically, my commanding officer, after all–but it could be.”

I take my leave of him, being careful not to turn my back.


My McDonald’s place mat (or trayliner, as they prefer to call them, lest we think we’re getting too fancy) said, “Get real. It’s hot out there.” No, now you’re getting unreal. It also said, “Take a picture of your drink and upload it to our website!” Why? I don’t often care about pictures of food on the Internet {insert picture of The Most Interesting Man in the World here}, but when I do, they’re pictures of actual food, cooked by people I actually know.