This is another episode of Tales From the RV Park, stories from the RV parks where I’ve camped. Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me.
Yes, folks it’s true, I have left Cow-Chicken-Oil Town and am now at a new one. Still in Texas, this town has oil, but no cows or chickens! The new RV park is larger, has a pool, a rec room, and more people! This means new fodder for Tales.
It will take some time to find out what goes on behind the scenes here, but stay tuned. Meanwhile, I will share a brief, somewhat uninteresting, final story from the old park, and then tell you about Pye’s ride over here to the new park.
Hate-crime and Chatty Cathy
Earlier this year there was an older couple who came to Park Host/Workcamp at the Cow-Chicken-Oil Town RV park. They were probably in their seventies. Ranger Rick chose them because the man had been a cop. His wife was very sweet, a bit older than he, deaf, but able to read lips.
A short, fat, balding man, with thick glasses and a truly nasty demeanor, he delighted in telling stories of how he abused his power during his tenure as a cop. Stories of horrible cruelty. There are few folks on this planet I truly dislike, or even hate, but after hearing one particular story (which I will spare you all), he is among that short list. I’m going to call him Hate-crime, because he is most likely to commit one.
Hate-crime and Chatty Cathy, Butt-crack’s wife, worked together at the park. Right off the bat, crusty old Hate-crime made a couple blatant passes at her. She told him to knock it off, and then she told Ranger Rick and her hubby, Butt-crack. Ranger Rick talked to him, but that’s all I know. Surprisingly, Hate-crime was not let go for this.
Butt-crack was ready to beat Hate-crime’s seventy-year-old ass to a pulp. Chatty Cathy stopped him from doing anything violent, so instead he just told Hate-crime to leave her alone.
She and Hate-crime didn’t have to work the same shift anymore, and that was the end of that. He left in February, a month before they were scheduled to leave. Ranger Rick told me he would hire him back, which was really surprising. No one liked the guy, not even Ranger Roscoe.
Pye Needs A Chill Pill
You may recall when I went to Port Aransas several months ago and Pye stowed away in the chassis.
Pye is a nervous wreck today. I started getting packed up a few days before the big move today. Pye doesn’t like it when her stuff is moved (and it’s ALL her stuff). She expresses this by nervously swatting at a random, familiar item. This item will be something she’s seen a hundred times a day. It looks the same as it always did.
Like her scratching post. I moved this over about two feet so it was out of the way while packing. When she saw it, she snuck over to it, tentatively stuck out a paw, and then smacked it hard. To see if it would suddenly move? She did this several times, then sniffed it. Does it look and smell different if it’s been moved two feet? She must think it moved those two feet under it’s own power.
*sigh* She’s lucky she’s cute.
She also treats all new-to-the-house items in this same violent manner. Like pillows.
I took a throw pillow out of the cabinet, one I’ve had forever, but she’d never seen. I put it on the couch. When she saw it – looking like a soft fluffy pillow, sitting there next to other throw pillows – she approached it the same as the moved scratching post – by swatting at it several times. After three days of giving it a wide berth, and occasional swats, she decided it probably wasn’t a threat. Therefore, the tassels are probably edible. The tassels are NOT edible. The pillow is now in my bedroom.
However, this treatment does not apply to boxes. ALL cardboard boxes are immediately claimed with face-rubbing, and a nap on top.
Back to the move today. She started freaking out when stuff got moved (packing up little items), walking around really slowly, looking at everything as if it was new (and not a cardboard box).
Then when I put her in her carrier for the trip, and to prevent another “chassis ride”, she was OK for about 30 minutes while I continued packing, and hooking up the toad. Then she went ballistic. She tore a seam on the carrier and shoved her head through it just enough to get stuck. I freed her and shoved her back in. Then she howled and hissed like she was in a fight with another animal. Really screaming, rolling around with her feet in the air, and generally acting insane.
Next time she will ride inside one of those cardboard boxes she so loves.
After an hour in the new place, I let her out. Still freaked out, she wouldn’t eat any treats, and looked at everything as if it was somehow wrong. Then she sat by the door – as if I was going to let her out! BWAHAHHAAA
I did carry her outside and walked around the rig in a circle. That was it for her first outing.
We’ve been here four hours and she’s still traumatized, but has moved to the clingy stage, thank God! Freaked-out kitty who wants to escape the rig is a problem, but clingy I don’t mind.