A few months ago, when my friend was visiting me and Johann in Venice, she got right down to business asking him all the most important questions about Finland.
“Do you have snow leopards?” she wanted to know.
“We have them at the zoo,” Johann replied.
“I saw them at the zoo too,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “That’s why I’m asking. I love snow leopards. If I could be any animal, it would be a snow leopard. They’re so cute with their big paws,” She clapped her hands together for effect. “They’re soundproof, you know.”
“They’re also big like that so that they don’t sink into the snow,” Johann added.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Also,” Johann said. “Did you know that they use their own tail as a scarf to keep warm?”
“I did not!” my friend replied, properly delighted, as though she really was going to transition into a snow leopard some day and never have to worry about outwear again.
This would have been a bizarre conversation under the very best of circumstances, but considering that it was between two adults, near-strangers at that, on holiday in Italy and it was almost too much to handle. I was tempted, just for a moment, to walk away and let them enjoy this magical moment of big cat trivia alone in the streets of Venice.
I’m not jealous, mind you. It might sound that way, but I’m not. As anyone in a long-term relationship will tell you, it’s not exactly a bad thing to have a fresh new face come to town every now and then and take the most mundane parts of conversation off your hands. As far as I’m concerned, my friend can visit Johann once a month, help herself to whatever we have in the liquor cabinet and then run down the clock talking about whatever it is that’s on their minds: a competitive analysis of shelving units; underrated rock bands; medium-term plans to purchase a TV. These are all things I can’t be bothered about. I will happily let someone else, even someone far prettier than me, take that task off my hands. It’s worth the risk.
Then again maybe I’m not being completely honest about that. I might not be jealous of my friend and Johann trading snow leopard factoids, but I am most certainly interested in them. Truth be told, I have never turned down an opportunity to introduce an animal into dinner conversation. Neither does my friend. And that randomness is just one of the things that I love about her. I have to admit that if she was coming over to talk dish towels and sneakers with Johann, I’d want to listen in. One, for the simple entertainment of it. And two, because I would probably quote her on it later.
Case and point: the snow leopard. I can’t shut up about him. That conversation happened a full six months ago and I am still bringing up that damn cat. Every time I have a few drinks, there he is, with his soundproof paws and tail-scarf just waiting to dazzle whoever happens to be around. I challenge people to think of a more badass spirit animal but they cannot.
“Maybe I could be a snow leopard too,” I suggested to Johann one night after two glasses of wine. “Maybe we could all be snow leopards.”
“I don’t think that would suit you,” he replied.
I scoffed. “Oh really?” I countered. “I’m not snow leopard material? Says who? You?”
Johann rolled his eyes. “You’re not quiet,” he pointed out. “And—”
“Fine,” I said, cutting him off before he could further dampen my dreams. “What animal do you think I should be?”
“Maybe a zebra?” he suggested.
“A ZEBRA?!” I screamed, prompting half the bar to turn around and stare. I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly then pointed at Johann. “He thinks I should be a zebra!”
I will admit that zebra is pretty on-brand for me. I mean, if a striped horse walks into a bar in Helsinki, people are going to turn to look. And that they do.
I wasn’t going to admit that to Johann however. As far as animals go, zebra is tier-two. If I was casting a play about the ark and had to find a pair of zebras, I’d pick children who didn’t have any outstanding personality traits or physical attributes.
Think about it: Have you ever heard of a famous zebra, real or otherwise? Do you even know anything about them? No. Probably not. And that’s why I’m so offended. Three years into this relationship and I expected a more tailored animal recommendation from Johann. Something majestic. Something beautiful. Something loud that likes salad.
“Whatever,” I said, setting aside my disappointment for a moment. “So if I’m a zebra, what are you?”
“Well the wolverine of course,” he replied.
I left out a huge guffaw, while Johann sat perfectly still. “Oh you’re serious!” I said. “Oh! OK.”
“Why am I not the wolverine?” he asked.
I stared at him for a moment, replaying a scenario that had happened earlier in the day when he had attempted to remove a pair of nail clippers from a hanging display at a grocery store. “Just pull it,” the clerk said. “Do you have scissors?” he asked, swatting at the packaging. “Pull it harder,” she insisted. “I need scissors,” he repeated. And then we left the store without buying a pair of nail clippers.
“Call me crazy, but I think a wolverine would have walked away with all the nail clippers,” I said.
“Fine,” he replied. “Some kind of big cat then.”
I tried my best to contain myself. “Oh okay,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m a punched-up donkey but you’re a big cat. Sure.”
“Why am I not a big cat?” he asked, straightening his shoulders.
“Male or female?” I asked.
“Male,” he replied. “Don’t be silly.”
“Alright, fine,” I said. “That checks out. All boy cats do is sleep and you-know-what.”
“Eat?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, eat,” I answered. “You are being very cat-like right now.”
In the end, after a lot of back and forth, we decided that Johann could be a polar bear. They look cute but they are deceptively fierce; they like cold water; they sleep through winter; and, like gentlemen, they’re a dying breed. It was a spirit animal we could both live with.
I, on the other hand, inadvertently talked myself into liking zebra after running down all the facts I learned about them on safari.
“Zebras haven’t been domesticated,” I told Johann. “And they never will be. You can’t ride ‘em and you can’t work ‘em.”
If I may quote a safari guide who was two drinks into his day off, “a zebra is a flightier, fightier horse.” They will run or they will kick, but they will not put up with shit. They have an outstanding duck reflex which means you can’t get a lasso on them, which means you also can’t put a saddle on them.
Oh, and they’re anti-social. Sure, they look like they’re traveling in one big happy herd, but that’s just a safety measure. When push comes to hyena, it’s every man for himself. Speaking of! Some female zebras spend their whole lives just wandering around never really committing to a place to live. Starting to sound familiar?
Finally—and this is important—zebras are cool looking. I mean, yeah, they may not be as beautiful as a horse or graceful as a gazelle or as majestic as a whale… they have bulging bellies and gigantic asses and ridiculous hair, but somehow it’s all working. Let’s be honest—that’s me. If some kind of Disney-level sorcerer rolled through town and turned every person into an animal in need of redemption, I would most certainly end up as a commitment-phonic, kick-happy zebra.
I should be so lucky. If a horse is like a dog then a zebra is a wolf. That snow leopard can have its scarf. I’m keeping these stripes.
Zebras are cool! It is totally a compliment to have someone think of you as a zebra. Contrast my own experience, where I once asked a boy what animal he thought I’d be and got “otter.” Headsmack. I guess I’m glad the response wasn’t some clumsy variant of the million short jokes I’ve heard about myself in my life (e.g. “dwarf hamster,” “midget buffalo”) or something viscerally reprehensible, (e.g. “maggot,” “deer tick”). Small victories. Also, and this is clearly advice you needed yesterday…don’t ask a boy what animal you remind him of.
ha! this is very true. i should know better than to ask questions I don’t an honest answer to.
as for you, otters are cute and fun, but not what i’m thinking for you. hasn’t he seen you fly?! you are a bird if ever there was one. i was thinking parrot solely for the visual on the hoop, but i don’t think that’s quite right. i hate to say it but the next thing that came to mind was a bat… and yeah, they kind of get a bad rap but they’re pretty awesome. would you accept bat?
Very funny – well written, can sympathise with your outrage of being assigned to a Zebra. They also very windy so you need to stay well away from them.
ha! i did not know that! thank you. i will add it to my list of similarities… Johann and i are both so gassy that we have our own term for it: booty honk.
Haha! Such a great read. I have such random, entertaining friends too. They’re great!
We also have a lot of fun quoting them later on, sometimes even years later.
Yay for the stripey zebra!
right?! i love all my friends, but this one in particular is always a hoot. thank you for reading!
Not to mention that if you put a horn on a zebra you have a unicorn! A gassy, sassy, striped unicorn…what could be better?
this is true. nothing better than a sassy striped unicorn :)
Hilarious as always. My partner and I had a similar spirit animal discussion a few years ago. He thought he was a majestic eagle. I said he was a Polish crested chicken.
I never met him but I believe you. lol. let me guess, he’s a bald eagle, symbol of independence and prosperity, and you’re like, a starfish or some shit? :) i kid. it’s the sign of a healthy relationship to compare your partner to eastern european poultry.