I'm trying to lose weight. I realize that makes today like every other day in my 25-year existence. But this time my weight-loss goals are accompanied by a long, rambl-y and very soberly written post, one void of sarcasm with no references to my shoes. That post needs to be proofread a few dozen more times before I can post it so for now this post has nothing to do with my weight loss. This particular post is about a mongoose. What else would it be about? Seriously.
On our honeymoon we visited the Annaberg ruins. Nice enough place, as far as ruins go, but attractions such as these hold my attention for a good 15 minutes before I either need a cocktail or I need to leave. Finally, Mike was ready to leave. And if we hadn't left at JUST that moment, we would have missed a scene straight out of When Animals Attack.
We began walking down the hill (toward the car, toward AIR CONDITIONING, toward raspberry coladas) when we stumbled upon this little guy:
Wildlife! Hi iguana! Wait, what's that in the background? More wildlife! Hi mongoose!
We walked a few more steps. Huh? The mongoose seems to be darting toward the iguana; probably just saying hello. Sweet little mongo.... what the—?
That face the mongoose is making? Not particularly inviting. A few iguana tail slaps and mongoose body lunges later, we realized this was not a friendly jungle encounter. Mike then did what Mike does best: he acted like a decent guy. He intervened and tried to scare the mongoose off:
You can't tell because I've cropped and zoomed a bit here, but I was running toward the bottom of the hill while taking this (and every other) picture. I only put myself in the line of fire if the line of fire is a shoe sale. I flee much better than I fight and unfortunately I have two immediate instincts when a crisis ensues: 1) push whoever is with me toward the dangerous situation (gives me a leg up while fleeing) and 2) take pictures as I flee. I'm not proud of these responses but needless to say as Mike tried to ward off the mongoose, I went running in the opposite direction, all the while snapping photos and screaming up the hill: "GOOD JOB BABY! SAVE THE IGUANA!"
Mike caught up with me a moments later and said, "Phew, that was close! Don't worry, the mongoose ran away." For all of five seconds we were feeling pretty good about how everything turned out. We both turned and looked back up the hill at the exact same time and what did we see but this:
And this:
And about five seconds after that the feisty mongoose had drug that little and dead iguana right into the woods.
As we walked to our car, feeling blue for the iguana and shocked that mongooses (mongeese?) are such bitches, I said to Mike:
"I don't know if I would have believed someone if they had told me a week ago the words 'mongoose attack' would soon mean something to me."
"Seriously."
"We're still getting a raspberry colada, right?"
See part three of my crisis-coping skills: