I recently acquired a Venus Fly Trap. We were starting to become friends, it seemed pretty cool, and Travis and I even named it Bananarama. Last week before I left on vacation, we decided to put it in the terrarium where it was more humid and there were other plans to mingle with. When I got back today, Bananarama is all wilted, black, and slightly moldy. Boy, was that a bad idea! I'm not sure he will make it or how long I will tolerate his new look and just throw him out.
More important than the death of Bananarama is the fact that this moment reminded me of another classic moment in pet sitting history at the office. Once upon a time many moons ago I had a fish tank on my desk with a frog and a few goldfish, and I left Doug in charge when I went on a business trip out east. When I landed in Baltimore, I got a call from Doug that one of the fish had died. I had only been gone about 6 hours and was wondering how this could have happened so quickly, but then came the real shocker when Doug said, "and I peed on it." I didn't know what to say, what questions to ask, or if I should laugh, cry, or cry laughing. Apparently, after Doug flushed the poor thing he decided that he needed to use the rest room and as he was taking care of business the poor thing floated back up into the bowl. Doug peed on my dead fish.
