Remember this post? No? Well, in it I said I love all animals, which actually isn't true. I wouldn't say that I lied, I just used too broad of a term, since there are (at least) two species I'm slightly hesitant about loving them.
I'm somewhat afraid of cats, because they can claw like their claws are made of diamonds and can probably slit your jugular vein without even trying. I think my fear came about when a fat, mean, grumpy cat scratched my dog's cornea. In case you're wondering what a cornea is, it's the thin outer layer covering your eyeball. You think your skin is tender? Try scratching your cornea. A long claw-mark ran all across the poor guy's eye, but luckily it healed quickly and his vision was intact.
Despite the unfortunate incident, that didn't make me hate cats. Hate is a sad way to waste anyone's energy, especially on such cute little purring fur-balls - I just rather keep my distance. But there is a species, which I'd never ever go near it ever again, no matter how cute it would be (and they don't even make them remotely cute, by the way) and that's a camel.
When I was in Jordan with my brother and his then girlfriend now wife, THEY wanted to take a camel tour around one of the deserts. Ok, I thought it would be cool to go too, but now I just feel better blaming them for the whole thing. At first, we were all tied together like a perfect, peaceful, idyllic little caravan, but then MY camel had enough of looking at its friend's hairy, smelly butt and decided to bite it. Of course, the bite wasn't well received by the preceding camel and although I don't speak camel or Arabic, I swear it said: "I WILL KILL YOU, YOU BITCH!!!" It sure sounded like that. Then we had to separate.
Imagine, you're in the middle of a desert, it's your first time on a camel, 75 % of words coming out of your tour guide's mouth are in Arabic and the 15 % of the English ones don't make sense - would you feel at ease sitting on a thing with a mind of its own that could now run loose? Not likely. Especially since within the first hour MY camel already threw a fit, and we had 5 hours more to go. But it didn't end with the biting incident.
Soon after we separated, MY camel decided to stop. I tried all of the tricks that supposedly should make the damn heap of fur and fat move, but nothing worked. Instead, it lied down. You have to hold on tightly not to fall while they do that and there's still a chance you'll get thrown off, now think about that happening without you expecting it. But I stayed on. Which the camel didn't want or expect so it jerked and tilted to the left and I finally flew off. If that happened now, I'd get up, dusted off the sand, walk over to our guide and say: "I know you probably won't understand this, but fuck you and your camel, I'm going back now. By foot." But that was then and not now, so I went back on the crazy, biting, stubborn animal, which obviously didn't want me anywhere near its hump.
By the end of the trip, MY camel tried to bite all of the other camels at least one more time each, it threw me off again, it never went where everyone else went or I wanted it to go and it never walked in a straight line but swerved like a frigging border collie competing at an agility championship. And what's more, the stupid saddle wasn't padded enough or was too old or the design itself was flawed from the get go (the initial flaw being putting the saddle on a damn camel), so my damn ass hurt every damn step that damn camel took. Damn.
When the tour was drawing to a close and I finally saw our camp from afar, MY camel decided to turn 90 degrees to the left and didn't want to stop walking. I went crazy, completely crazy. I was calm the entire day and didn't want to complain, but then I just lost it. I started screaming (cursing) and kicking and tugging on the ropes and I heard my brother and his wife laughing in the distance. "Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck you, you stupid camel!!! Throw me off now, THROW ME OFF NOW!!!" Of course it didn't want to throw me off, it just kept on walking until it reached a 3-meter (10-feet) rock and had to stop.
When I got back to the camp (on foot), I had to go check my behind, because it just hurt too much. It turned out that I had a cut, an actual bloody wound 10 centimeters (4 inches) long in-between my butt cheeks from the saddle and the rough ride. When we left the next day, I didn't want to say goodbye to my camel, I didn't want to take a picture with it, I didn't want to know its name, nothing. I just wanted the damn thing to return to hell where it came from.
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