I have been DYING to see a moose ever since I moved to New England. I have moose on my pajamas, and a moose doorhanger, and I go to Vermont and Maine all the time, and no moose. I’ve even hung out next to weedy, mosquito infested ponds in the middle of nowhere in the evening waiting to see a moose. No moose.
Now I come home and my neighbor, the one who shares a wall with me, tells me “I hope that moose didn’t damage your car this morning.”
I said “What?” because I live smack in the middle of the urban district, we barely have lawns here, it’s not like we’re in the country, and I can’t possibly have heard her correctly. She’s Polish, so who knows.
She said “There was a moose next to your car this morning.”
I said “What?” Not a moose. Something else, maybe, but the car is parked 10 feet behind my back door. We get possums, and coons, and stray cats, and the occasional skunk or bunny, but we don’t even get the black bears that anyone with a real yard deals with.
She said “There. Was. A. Moose. In. The. Driveway. This. Morning. At. Six. O. Clock.”
I said “What? I keep thinking you’re saying “moose” but that can’t be right. I need to go to the doctor.”
“No,” she says. “A MOOSE. There was a MOOSE in the DRIVEWAY next to your CAR this MORNING.”
I stared at her. I’m pretty sure my eyes were making that whirring look you see in cartoons right after someone gets hit in the head with an anvil.
“A moose?” I said. And I thought, holy cow, I’ve caught it from Roy. I answer a statement with the same words only with a question mark attached. It’s contagious.
“I have a picture.” she said, and started going for her phone.
“What?” I said again.
“Yes.” she said. “My son went out the back door to go down the driveway to catch the school bus, and he started yelling MOM! MOM! MOM! and when I said WHAT?!?!?!? he said LORI’S HORSE IS BACK HERE!!! I said, don’t be silly, her horse doesn’t live in her townhouse, she’s not Pippi Longstocking, and he said COME SEE THIS!!!” and I went, and there it was. A moose was right here, next to your car, eating my sunflowers.”
And then her phone was on, and sure enough, there was a picture of the moose. Not next to my car, sadly, but in the neighbor’s yard.
Holy shit. There was a moose, in my driveway, eating our flowers, standing right next to my car, and I slept through it. I FREAKING SLEPT THROUGH IT. I slept through it. I can’t believe it. It’s like waking up on Christmas morning and finding reindeer tracks and skid marks on the roof, and realizing that Santa was REALLY HERE and you SLEPT through it. I’m so depressed.
“He was HUGE” my neighbor said. “And after a while, he sprang down the driveway, binga binga binga like Bullwkinkle, and nearly ran over a guy who was jogging. I thought that guy was going to pass out.”
I’ll just bet. You’re going out for a morning run in the city, you expect to maybe meet badly behaved dogs, be startled by rubbish removal crews, possibly encounter a vagrant or two, but to be nearly run over by a moose twinkling down the driveway of a row house, no.
At least he didn’t eat my tomatoes.