Writing Funny Animals

I like funny writing. So, I'm always taking workshops or listening to speakers talk about how they write funny. And what I keep hearing is that taking two things that don't normally go together and jamming them into a situation can help set up a funny scene. As most of my funniest true stories occur when I've stuck animals in a place they don't normally belong, this makes total sense to me. You know, the goat in the car routine, the chickens in the bathroom story.

So, here are few things to think about when putting livestock in unusual places:

1. The time it takes for a baby goat to learn to jump up on the kitchen table can be measured in days, not weeks, months, or years.

2. Kitchen tables, especially when they have a table cloth, make it hard for little cloven hooves to gain purchase - thereby causing said goat to go sliding off the end.

3. Baby goats when "maaing" sound like a screaming human baby. Keeping them in the basement when they scream can lead to the neighbors reporting you to the police.

4. Modern disposable diapers that form a gelatin when wet will stay on a lamb better than a baby goat. Kids' (as in baby goats) butts slope, causing the wet diaper to fall off when wet. Lambs' butts are square, so wet diapers stay on better.

5. Disposable diapers also melt when they come in contact with a warm woodstove and unfortunately baby goats and lambs who have been brought into the house to warm up seem to like running around the woodstove.

6. Within a couple weeks, baby goats can leap from floor to table to counter to the top of the refrigerator in three bounds.

The Animal I Am

            I think we all want to be a certain animal. An animal who can snarl and not be told to be nice, behave, be anything but what it is. It’s why shapeshifters will always be popular. The ability to let the wild, feral side out is a dream for everyone. But of course, I want to be something noble, regal, something that flies, or runs, something with eagle eyes, owls’ hearing, strength of a bear, speed of a jaguar, loyalty and wisdom of a wolf. I’d rather not be a mouse or a rat, thank you very much.

            If I’m honest though, I think the animal I want to be, the animals I like, are not the animal I really am. I’m a dog person. Love their humor, their ability to scent, their loyalty, their unconditional love.

I have cats, but they and I just tolerate each other. They all but have “do not disturb” signs tattooed to their sides. They demand food when hungry or attention when they need a scratch. But otherwise, it’s a swat or bite for me and the dogs when we get a little too close. It’s their job, they believe, to keep the riff raff in our places. They are as cantankerous and irritable as I am.

            I’m afraid, I’m really a cat. I’m afraid, I love dogs because they are the exact opposite of me. The yin to my yang. The gentle to my irritation. The happy to my annoyed. I would be in an existential crisis by this discovery, except I’m too much of a cat to let the thought disturb me. There are some benefits to being a curmudgeon after all.