Inspired by the thread about the dead possum, I shall tell you the tale of the dead giraffe that washed up on my parents’ property on…wait for it! Lake Conroe.
So, many years ago, BPMom and my sister and her best friend (who was living with us at the time) were hanging out. BPDad had gone to the lake. (It’s not fancy, trust me)
BPM gets a call. She keeps yelling “what???”
BPD had called to say that there is a dead giraffe that washed up.
“Look, BPM, I’m not drunk. Ok, I am, but there is a fucking giraffe.”
She turns to us b/c we are yelling what? what? what?
BPM: Your dad says a dead giraffe has washed up.
Guess what happened next!
So we all pile in the car and drive in the middle of the night from Spring to Conroe and get there.
Guess what we found? A DEAD GIRAFFE.
Our response? OMG
My dad: I TOLD YOU!
And it wasn’t an adult giraffe, it was like subadult or baby. But a large animal.
And it was getting pretty ripe, if you know what I mean. So here comes the fun part. Who do you call to get rid of a dead giraffe that washed up?
My dad tried everyone he could think of:
Texas Parks and Wildlife: Not from Texas, so we can’t help you
Sherrif/Public Safety: That’s ummm. not what we do
I could go on, but he tried every agency he could think of and there is no Texas State Giraffe Council. (I think he even tried the Corps of Engineers that MADE Lake Conroe)
He ended up throwing a rope around a hoof and towing it away and cutting the line. Thank god, b/c the stench was getting horrific.
(So somewhere in Lake Conroe is a giraffe skeleton)
Later he found out that there was someone on the lake that kept ‘exotic animals’ (aka, DOUCHEBAG) and also had large dogs—I’m guessing not the friendly big dogs brought up by good people but Vick-type dogs–who had harassed the giraffe into the water where it drowned. And it had been floating around for at least a week.
I wondered about that myself. If not, you could have a situation like the one in Ohio a couple years ago.
The town square in Oquawka, Illinois has a memorial to Norma Jean Elephant. About 40 years ago, the circus was in town, a storm blew up, lightning struck her ankle bracelet, and she died. They decided to bring in a backhoe and bury her where she fell, and she remains there to this day.
Had to deal with a raccoon problem once at work. So I first called the police and asked who I contacted with a wildlife-related problem. They recommended I call the county animal control officer and gave me the number. So I called the county animal control office and explained my raccoon-related problem.
And they told me they don’t do raccoons. Or animals in general. They handle dogs only. We discussed the point but they refused to concede the issue. So I was forced to look elsewhere.
But I was nice. Tempted as I was, I never said, “Why the hell do you call yourself an animal control officer if all you handle is dogs? You’re a fucking dog catcher.”
They decided to bring in a backhoe and bury her where she fell, and she remains there to this day.