Ever since I moved into my new neighbourhood late last year, I seem to be caught up in a “Dr. Dolittle” moment of some sort. You all know Dr. Dolittle don’t you? That funny vet guy who talks to animals?
Well, me and these animals seem to be communicating alright. I can’t hear what they’re saying much but they sure do get my message: GERROUTTTT!!! It’s that simple.
I’m beginning to suspect Noah must have ditched his ark right beside my house and some drunken scholar mistakenly wrote Mount Ararat instead. Ever since I moved into this house, I have seen (and been bitten by) every specie of ant known to man and Martians alike. The other time I turned on the bulb late at night to see a family of spiders scurrying across the floor like as if they had a movie to catch and were late.
Then there are the usual suspects: rats and cockroaches. Like any self-respecting bachelor knows, nothing spoils a guy’s rep worse than cockroaches. I mean, that lady you’ve been eyeing may never know there are rats in the house unless she sleeps over but cockroaches…!
I mean, check this out: After weeks of persuasions and negotiations, she finally agrees to pay you a visit. Your house is clean, the can of air-freshener is half empty and the wine is chilling at minus 6 degrees. She’s laughing at your jokes, your apprehensions are gradually dying out and you actually begin patting yourself on the back.
Hold your horses! Just when the conversation becomes lighter and you’re about to ask her her favourite position, that silly cockroach on your wall close to the ceiling who’s been straining to eavesdrop on the gossip leans over too far and falls right on top of her head!
It happened to me once and I can tell you, the only funny thing was the sight of the lady in question dancing “atilogwu” as she tried to get it off without ripping her weavon!
Now, before the thought enters your head, no, I ain’t really untidy, honest! The dumb things just hide in the most unimaginable corners until I’ve finished my spring cleaning then they come out to show me who really owns the house. Imagine! Like after boiling a kettle to take a hot bath, out pops a cockroach in your bathing water. What was it doing inside the kettle for goodness sake? Taking a sauna? And there you were thinking only you hated the Harmattan…
Anyhow, before I go on and on, here are some pictures of the Dolittle moments I’ve phoneparazzi-ed in my house over the past few weeks:
Scenario 1: This poor bugger probably thought he was the Michael Phelps of Rat-dom. He drowned in a basin in my kitchen while practicing the backstroke in preparations for the Animalympics. Predictably, I didn’t mourn.
Scenario 2: The power company’s struck again! It’s pitch black but you just need to visit the loo. Thankfully, there’s a torch at hand so “no shaking”! You go to the White House, point the light at the WC bowl and this is what you see:
I can’t figure out what it is with these animals and water. Tried flushing the bugger but he just came up for air each time. Finally had to give the dumb lizard a hand. NOOOOOO, I didn’t stick my hand in there! I just put in the mop handle and left him to figure out the rest…Scenario 3: Still relishing your victory in the former scenario, you suddenly discover that you’ve used up all your water and need to get more. The tap inside had stopped running so out I went to get me some and something HUGE leaped out of the darkness at ME!
It took all my manliness to prevent me running back indoors screaming like a banshee. Anyway, I gathered my resolve to look outside again and as you can see from the pix, this warty fellow wasn’t even camera-shy at all like as if he owned the front of my door! Now, I really don’t mind toads but my mum has a saying: Where there are toads (and frogs), snakes will surely come…Let me stop here for now. Have a pest-free week!
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