“Curiosity killed the cat” is a proverb that warns against being too curious or investigating things that could be dangerous. The whole saying is, “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back,” which means that being curious can lead to trouble, but finding out the answer can be worth it. In a nutshell, that’s me. I want to know the story behind the story.
How often have you heard a restaurant server set a plate in front of you and say, “This is hot, please don’t touch it. I always give it a quick tap to better understand their definition of the word hot. To this day, I’ve never been rushed to the burn unit for treatment after being scalded in a dinner mishap.
As a small child, summers at the lake were filled with danger. I’d catch a turtle, and my grandmother would say, “Don’t let that turtle bite you. If it latches on to your finger, it won’t let go until sundown.” That’s reptilian defense at its best, isn’t it? First of all, having a shell of armor is pretty cool. It takes a mighty diligent predator to penetrate a shell that locks tight with hinges. It was remarkable to me that available light would unhinge the jaw strength of a snapper. I was curious, but not so much so that I intentionally let one latch on to test the validity of Grandma’s warning.
“Greg, if you grab it, that snake will bite you!” my mom would say.
In Northern Indiana, we had pigmy rattlers, but they weren’t found on shorelines. I was after common water snakes, hognose snakes, and garters. I found that if they bit you and you tried to pull your hand or finger out, you’d be left with a serrated wound from the backward-facing teeth raking across your skin. But if you waited until sundown. Kidding. If you waited until they released their bite to pull away, at worst, you’d have little pinpricks from their tiny teeth. The potential pinprick hasn’t served as a deterrent to me as I grew and became a dad. I’d see a snake swimming along the water’s edge, jump down and grab it behind its head, then pull it up to show my kids. We’d talk about snakes, learn about the dos and don’ts, and then I’d release it no worse for wear. The “musky smell” you’re left with after handling a snake is far more unpleasant than a potential bite. That smell is usually due to the snake releasing a defensive musk from its scent glands, which is a strong, unpleasant odor emitted when the snake feels threatened or stressed; this is a typical behavior among many snake species and is considered a way to deter predators, not named Greg. Although I wouldn’t consider myself a predator. Like the cat, I’m just consumed with curiosity.
A trip to Andy’s house to record another Welcome To The Suburbs episode always begins with his pup Gabriel greeting me with a chorus of barking. He’s a very conversational pup. I never saw Mr. Barkington’s antics as threatening. He’s just a very vocal guy. I picture him telling me that this is his space. He’s giving me a list of dos and don’ts. He’s telling me where I can and can’t go, and I’m not allowed to threaten his humans, or he’d be forced to defend them. Gabriel is a terrier. Every time I hear the name of that breed spoken, I hear John Cleese from Monty Python say, “A Terrier makes a lovely fish.” Over the last 50+ years, I’ve never known a Monty Python to bite or latch on in any way other than endearingly infectious humor. Another scene about dogs that always comes to mind is from The Pink Panther. Peter Seller’s character, Inspector Clouseau, asks a man,
“Does your dog bite?”
The man says, “No.”
Clouseau reaches to pet the dog and is bitten.
Clouseau, “I thought you said your dog doesn’t bite.”
“That’s not my dog,” is his the reply.
Unlike turtles and snakes, I know dogs can be fickle. You should embrace specific protocols when approaching a pup unfamiliar to you. When approaching a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, courtesy or bow. Over the years, I’ve found it hard to take any dog-wearing clothing seriously. It doesn’t matter if they have a human name, like Gabriel. Gabe has never greeted me wearing a turtle neck or snakeskin jacket. For me, the risk of being bitten by a pup in sheep’s clothing is non-existent. Dressing your dog is as tragic to me as naming it something like Mr. Buttons or Daisy.
Occasionally, as we are recording, Gabe will come downstairs to say hi. He always announces himself with a paragraph of barking. I get down low to make eye contact, Andy bristles, I pet Gabe without incident, and we chat about his vocal range and pitch.
“Don’t pick him up,” is Andy’s response to every conversation I have with Gabe. Occasionally, I’ll move my hand under his belly, supporting his body as if I were picking him up. That’s always greeted with, “He bites.”
Sunday, after recording, I was at the door getting ready to leave. I went down in a squat to sit eye to eye with Mr. Barkey Pants and say goodbye. As I petted him, he gave me the rundown of dos and don’ts for the 50th time. It was then I picked him up. Andy was so horrified that he walked to the other side of the room and faced the corner. I kid you not. A sentence of stammering poured from Jennifer’s mouth as she braced herself for the screams of a wounded man. Gabe nestled against my chest briefly as I talked to him. He was as quiet as a church mouse.
As I set Gabe down, I looked at Andy and said, “A terrier makes a lovely fish.” He didn’t laugh. He was on his phone Googling rabies symptoms.
Listen to Episode 55 of Welcome to the Suburbs on our website https://suburbspodcast.com/ or your favorite podcast platform like Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/season-3-episode-55-setting-picks-kayak-retaliation/id1669816704?i=1000693022593
