Have I Got a Job for You?

On Sunday morning, my phone rang. I knew before I got to it who would be calling me, only one person ever calls me, other than those crazy people who call insisting that I've had a car accident. Last time they called I told them I lived alone with my dog and he wasn't a driver. They hung up pretty quickly, much to my amusement.

Anyway, it was, as predicted my mother and as usual there was no greeting, she just kind of goes straight into the conversation, which started like this:


Mum: I've got a job for you.

Me: Um okay, what do you want me to do?

Mum: Put your arm in the hedgehog house.

Yes, my mother called to ask me to put my arm inside a hedgehog house. If you're baffled, imagine how confused I was first thing on a Sunday morning! I was debating whether she had finally lost the plot and if I should maybe consider calling the men in white coats, however, all became a little clearer.

It transpires that my parents had found a little hedgehog in the car park by their home and the poor wee thing wasn't looking very well. My Dad got a towel, wrapped the little creature up in it and took it indoors whilst he set about finding the number for a hedgehog sanctuary.

Whilst Dad was on the phone to the sanctuary, my Mum, in her infinite wisdom, popped the towel with the hedgehog in it, on her lap, and probably made a big old fuss of it. Poor thing was probably terrified by the crazy lady. Anyway, it was then she noticed the fleas jumping around all over the place. At this point in her story, I was despairing, everyone knows hedgehogs are like a cruise liner for fleas!

Needless to say, she has had to spray all the furniture and carpets and treat the dog and cat. I must apologise here, as I am fairly certain that you, like me, are now itching...everywhere.

However, I digress, just a little bit. It would appear that the reason I am being asked to put my arm in the hedgehog house is that my parents need to check that the hedgehog they've found is not the same one that has settled down to hibernate in their hedgehog abode. My Mum did ask my Dad if he recognised the one they found, but apparently he didn't, which given how they all tend to be of the same brown prickly variety with no real distinguishing features, I'm not surprised. I am surprised that my Mother didn't just ask it outright if it was the same one; honestly she would do such a thing!

The reason they need to know if they are the same or different hedgehogs? Well, the sanctuary like to return them to the same environment in which they were found. Obviously, that makes perfect sense. However, I am most certainly not putting my arm into a home that may or may not house a walking flea hotel. I therefore, declined the job offer and delegated to my Dear Daddy.