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A. UMBRELLA STAMPEDES CATTLE
B. PARSONAGE GETS BOMBED C. WORSE THAN PEPPER SPRAY D. A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY E. FISH OR PROSTITUTE? |
Why should I get wet? |
What in the world is that
funny looking object? |
What could be more innocent than a little umbrella, especially to someone raised in a rain-soaked city like Vancouver? In between Bible college semesters in the summer time, Fred and Viola did home missions work in the Hanna/Scapa area in Alberta.
Fred's Uncle - Otto Pahl - gladly housed the enterprising young couple. In return, Fred helped with farm chores. Otto's little son Richard was fascinated by the umbrella, for very few prairie farmers owned one. When Fred and Viola were not at home, Richard was sure to find the umbrella and play with it. One morning it rained "cats and dogs" as the saying goes, and Uncle Otto, whose daily job was to open the gate and bring the cows to the barn for milking, mused: "Why should I get wet?" So he took the umbrella to protect himself from the rain and mounted his horse - faithful old Pete. Major tactical mistake.
When the cows spotted the threatening and unfamiliar looking object waving away on top of the horse, they about-turned from the gate and bolted two miles back into the pasture. So much for the umbrella. Poor Uncle Otto spent the greater part of an hour rounding up the frightened cattle before he could get them to the barn. Oh yes, you guessed correctly - Uncle Otto was soaked through and through, and when he finally got to the house, wet and bedraggled, to change his clothing, he glared at Viola and sputtered, "You! You with your fancy umbrella caused all this! I never want to see it again." His exasperation lasted for only a short time, and soon everyone was enjoying a hearty laugh.
The legend of the skunk bombing the parsonage will never die. In 1964, we had a country church at Springside, Saskatchewan. At a small town parade, one of the floats had a baby skunk on it. I remembered a fad which had occurred years earlier in Vancouver. People were having the "perfume" factory taken out of the skunk so that they could become compatible pets. I mentioned to the head deacon of the church, "I'd like to have a deodorized skunk for a pet."
One day, a skunk got trapped in his garage. He captured it without incident and put the creature into an old-fashioned roll-top bread box and decided to take it to the parsonage for the pastor's wife. To come into the parsonage, one entered a door to a small landing, and then there were four steps to the kitchen door. The deacon knocked at the kitchen door. Our visiting missionary was in the back bedroom. Fred was in his study. I answered the door and the deacon smiled broadly as he indicated he had a present for me.
When he rolled back the lid of the bread box, I saw right away that it was a skunk, cowering in the corner, with bright beady eyes affixed on me. The deacon and I talked briefly for a few minutes. Fred joined us at the door to look at skunk. Then the family cat showed up - the wrong place at the wrong time. Her paws were muddy from the outdoors, and I had just mopped the floor. So I picked up the cat to show her the skunk. By this time, this was something only an idiot from the city would think of doing. When the skunk saw the cat, a mini-Pearl Harbor took place. The skunk let loose with its invincible weapon, right into Fred's face. The stench nauseated me, and I went as fast as my crutches would allow to the bathroom to throw up. The missionary in the back bedroom inhaled the smell as well. The deacon, although overcome with the smell, convulsed in laughter.
Fred was wearing a heavier work jacket, but the antidote to the stench on the coat was to bury it for three days - and it actually worked. His hair smelled awful, so he took a bath and rubbed the hair with creosote. But it was not until months later when all the "skunked" hair grew out and was cut off that the smell was finally eliminated.
We could smell "skunk" for at least a week in the house. The joke that went around the district was something like this: If the deacon wanted to get rid of the preacher, there were nicer ways to do it than to let a skunk bomb the parsonage!
As a footnote, this happened at a church service several weeks later. When Fred was ready to lead in the congregational prayer, he usually said, "Let us pray." I was sitting next to the deacon on this particular Sunday, and all of a sudden he was trying to stifle his laughter. After the service, he said to Fred, "Please, pastor, can you change your wording. 'Let us pray' sounds like 'Let us SPRAY' and I just can't help but think of the skunk bombing the parsonage." Having drawn this to his attention, Fred knew that he would never be able to use the phrase again, or else he would be struggling also with wanting to laugh.
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When our precious cat Sparky was older, he was allowed to go out at night. There he stayed if he didn't report home before his humans went to bed. One morning when Fred opened the door, Sparky rushed in to jump on Viola's bed and wish her "good morning." Sparky smelled appalling! Viola let out a screech! She was no stranger to "skunk" smell! "Quick, honey, get this critter out of here." Somehow, Sparky had tangled with a skunk and gotten the worst of the deal. At that time, our home was on the outskirts of the city, and Sparky had meandered into skunk territory.
Because of having to go to work and other commitments, it was two days before we had time to deal with Sparky. In the meantime, he had to stay outside and look mournfully inside through the patio door and wonder why his humans were treating him so poorly. Finally, the time came to deal with Sparky. The druggist suggested a tranquilizer to calm the poor beast, and instructed Fred to use peppermint oil in the water to mask the skunk smell. Tomato juice was also thought to be helpful. A tub of water was prepared with tomato juice and peppermint oil lavishly mixed with the water, and except for his head, Sparky was immersed. The cleansing bath was conducted outside, but anyone passing by might have thought we were having butchered cat because of the red tomato juice spilling all over. Following the insulting bath, Viola wrapped a big towel around the deodorized cat and held him in her arms for an hour (yes, they both snoozed!).
That night when we were tucked in our beds, Sparky entered the room. He pounced first on one bed and purred; then he jumped to the other bed and purred. He did this about five times, showing his love for each of his humans, and then everyone settled down to a long night's sleep, with the smell of peppermint gently wafting through the air.
Who met what he thought was a kitty;
He gave it a pat, And said, "Nice little cat!"
And they buried his clothes, out of pity.
One day we visited a small outdoor zoo to admire the deer and other forest animals. Near the fence, a magnificent male moose attracted my attention. I was in a standing position with the use of crutches. The moose, in turn, was attracted to my brilliant floral dress, and thinking it was a real bouquet of flowers, he decided it was edible.
Before I realized what was going on, a substantial amount of my full-flared skirt found its way into Mr. Moose's drooling mouth. Fortunately, I was able to pull my skirt out of its mouth before he started to chew it. But the slobber on the portion of the skirt he had sampled was quite a mess to deal with.
Thanks to free air miles from his son, Fred made a solo trip and toured Brazil for a month. With an unlimited air pass, he was able to fly to many cities in Brazil.One highlight of his trip was a ride in a small boat on the Amazon River. Only two other ladies - Brazilian - were on the boat ride. As the boat slowly meandered down the famous river, Fred kept putting his hand in the water and repeating, "Where are the piranha?" The more often he said this, the louder the Brazilian ladies laughed. Finally, Fred asked the boatsman why the ladies were laughing. In his heavily accented English, the man replied, "You see, sir, the word 'piranha' for the fish is the same word which is used for 'prostitutes.'" Fred grimaced. No wonder they laughed as he, a clergyman, clamoured for a piranha! Of course, the ladies knew that he wanted to see the voracious fish. In his search, he was very fortunate that the flesh-eating fish didn't nip off a finger or two as he swished his hand through the water!
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