First, we start with a 101-year-old man who bought a brand-new yellow Camaro.
Bob Lamb, a nephew who accompanied Mr. Coffman on his visit, said the sales staff at Miles Chevrolet was a bit skeptical of a 101-year-old man who came in looking for the $38,000 Camaro but more than happy to make the deal when they realized he was serious. “He told me, ‘If I keep that 10 or 12 years, it will be worth about $100,000,’†Mr. Lamb said. “He’s very optimistic.â€
God bless him. I hope he does keep it ten or twelve years.
Next, we have the 911 call from a woman reporting that a cow fell into her pool (audio at the link).
911 Telecommunicator: “Anderson County 911.”
Kathy Wydareny: “I’m home alone and a cow is in my pool and I don’t have any clue what to do.”
911 Telecommunicator: “The cow is in your pool?”
Wydareny: “Yes, it fell in my pool.”911 Telecommunicator: “Is it a small cow or a big cow?”
Wydareny: “No, it’s a big cow. It’s a really big cow.”
I’m sorry, what? The woman is calling to tell you that a cow fell in her pool, and you’re asking her if it was a small cow or a big cow? Seriously? What, is there a script somewhere in 911 Training School labeled “Cow in Pool” that directs the 911 operator to ask how big the cow is? Because, like, it matters?
In any case, the good news is that Bessie did not drown, and no one was hurt.
It could be a calf.
Oh, you city person, you! Context is everything. See, the dispatcher’s from ’round those parts. And the dispatcher knows:
1) If it’s a small cow, a couple guys from the fire dept. and some rope will do the trick.
2) If it’s a big cow, they’re gonna need to send a truck.
;)
Hi Meryl. This has nothing to do with your stuff at all, but I just wanted to tell you that last week a beautiful young cat wandered into my conservatory and since then has refused to leave. He wasn’t microchipped (he is now) and appears not to have been reported missing to any of the local animal shelters and there are no notices up anywhere in our neighbourhood, so, according to English Law, as seven days have passed, he is now mine.
We have called him Otis, he’s under a year old and primarily white with silver-tabby patches. My last cat died about 5 years ago, and I have missed having one. I love La Fluffita, my adorable GSD, but she doesn’t fill the cat-shaped space in my heart, as a cat wouldn’t fill a dog-shaped one. La Fluffita and Otis are taking small respectful steps to friendship. When all is settled I will poost some photos.
Yesterday was my first Caturday in years.
What, stray cats haven’t been outlawed in the U.K. yet? I’m surprised they don’t have a law blaming the cat for being a stray.
Anyway, congrats. Cats are great. Except when they’re walking across your stomach at six in the morning to get to the nighttable because they’re too lazy to jump over you (I’m looking at you, Gracie). I thought it was Tig, but my sleep-befogged mind finally realized that Tig couldn’t be lying on my feet and walking on my stomach at the same time.
I can’t speak to Gracie and Tig, Meryl, but I must concede that Ingrid wakes me to push me over to my side of the bed only every week or so.
As to the cow, glad to hear Bessie is OK. This cud have been an udder disaster if they’d experienced problems moo-ving her.