North Lake News and Views

And we call it progress….
Trembling fingers fumbled to punch 911 on his blackberry. Rings on the other end; following takes place:
For service in English, press 1; for service in French, press 2; for service in all other languages, press 3
1 is pressed
If you are calling for emergency medical service, press 1; if you are calling for police intervention, press 2; if you are calling for fire emergency, press 3; if you are calling for other reasons, hang up now.
3 is pressed.
For service in English, press 1; for service in French, press 2; for service in all other languages, press 3
1 is pressed.
We’re sorry, all our representatives are busy with other clients at the moment. Please remain on the line and the first available representative will be with you shortly. Your call is important to us.

We’re sorry, all our representatives are busy with other clients at the moment. Please remain on the line and the first available representative will be with you shortly. Your call is important to us.
“He-row. My name is Charlie. How may I help you?”
“My house is on fire. I need the fire department.”
“Hokay. Where are you?”
“Standing in my driveway watching my house burn.”
“No, no. I mean, where you live?”
“Oh. 123 Drury Lane”
“Yes, yes. What city/town/village”?
“Uh, Byetown.”
“Hokay. What country?”
“What the hell do you mean, what country? Canada, of course. Where are you?
“Ah, I am in Taiwan. What province you live in?”
“TAIWAN!!??”
“Oh, you have province called Taiwan?
“NO! I live in New Brunswick.
“You have postal code…yes?
“Yes. H0H 0H0
“Ho, ho, ho; that a good one. Hokay, please. How old you?
“37….what the held has that got to do with the fire department? Send them now.”
“Ah so, impossible at moment. You will be placed in queue for the next available fire truck. Mebee today, mebee tomorrow.”
“What?? Why is it impossible?”
Ah, terrible accident. Garbage truck upset on Main street. Spread garbage all over. Firemen must clean street, sort garbage for recycle, then wash down street. It very dirty.”
“OH MY GAWD! Is there no help for this widow’s son?”
“Oh I sorry to hear father is deceased…”
The caller hung up and watched in despair as the flaming roof and walls collapsed into the basement. At that moment, a police car stopped at the end of the driveway. An officer stepped out.
“I say, sir, do you have a permit for an open fire?”
A short time later, the caller was led into the psychiatric wing of the hospital two burly para-medics on either side holding his arms that crossed in front of him in the long sleeves of a strait jacket. His manical laughter could be heard for blocks. “Gawd, I love progress” he screamed over and over and over…..

The house was quiet that early morning a few weeks past as I sat at the table sipping my coffee and contemplating life in general. My wife was off visiting her mother leaving me to babysit the critters: two cats and a dog.
The old cat, the lady of the herd, had finished her morning meal and was lazing on the chair around the corner of the table from where I sat casually eying the younger cat who was still crouched at the feeding dish licking up the last crumbs. Schmedley, the dog part terrier and part schnauzer, was stretched out under the table. For the most part the dog is quiet, though he does get vociferous when strange things invade his territory. The young cat, part Siamese, is nervous as a cow with a buck-toothed calf under normal conditions.
The serenity of the moment was suddenly shattered by the telephone’s strident ring. As a result several things happened almost simultaneously.
Startled out of my reverie, I gave a knee-jerk reaction bumping the table. This brought the dog to his feet with vocals ready to defend hearth and home, or flee, depending on the threat. That movement further encouraged the old cat to abandon her position on the chair as she made a bee-line for the other room. The young cat immediately launched into flight in the same direction.
The problem with instant decisions is that all of the possible ramifications are not necessarily considered. The young cat’s calculation, if any, of the landing site at the end of his leap appeared to be off just a tad. Consequently he brushed the far edge of the watering bowl just hard enough to tip it, splattering the three animal who by now had converged in the doorway to the living room further adding to their desire to escape the calamity certain to befall them. Their numerous toe-nails on the hardwood floor beat a rhythmic tattoo as each tried to gain traction to offset the momentary jam in the opening. The brave guardian of home, the dog, right in the middle.
Finally the young cat burst through and with a fine display of agility ricocheted off the coffee table to disappear behind the sofa. The old cat, not so agile, but of greater wisdom dove under the sofa. The dog, neither agile nor very wise, ran into it.
I laughed until my sides ached.
Although I frequently gripe to my wife about these fur-balls depositing enough hair around the house on a regular basis to keep us all in wool clothing, they do provide a few amusing moments.
This episode was one of them

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