Our social life may have hit a new Friday night low. One of us (I won't say
who, but it's not me) now looks forward to watching a show on the Animal
Planet about meerkats. (A meerkat is a mongoose that looks to be half cat
and half weasel and walks on its hind legs).
In this other person's defense, this animal show is part reality TV and
part "Desperate Housewives."
Meet the Meerkats of Wisteria Lane.
Yes, I know, even with the twist, it's still kind of sad, isn't it?
And to think we used to spend Friday nights out on the town, having dinner,
going to clubs, partying with friends and salsa dancing until dawn. Oh
wait. That wasn't us. That was some celebrity couple I read about in a
magazine at the doctor's office.
Well, then, to think we used to spend Friday nights roaming about the
natural history museum after hours, where dinosaurs and civilizations from
the past all came to life and wreaked chaos and mayhem. Wait. That wasn't
us either; that was the Ben Stiller and Robin Williams movie.
So maybe Friday nights have always been a little slow.
It just seems like the slowest of slow now that the husband has coaxed me
into watching mongooses burrow underground, give birth, ferry their young
about and hunt for worms and insects. All of which is narrated by a man who
talks like he sincerely believes each mongoose has a distinct identity as
well as tangible hopes and dreams for world peace and a cure for coffee breath.
The narrator intones with deep concern: "Mozart is fearful what this latest
development may mean for the future of the mob." The camera shows Mozart,
a meerkat, standing tall, silhouetted against the setting sun.
"He is probably eyeing some small rodent to devour or has caught a whiff
of barbecue in the air," I huff.
"No, I think he is pondering the future of the community," the husband
says. "He's very smart."
Some of us are more easily taken in than others.
"Look!" he says. "It's Shakespeare. He was injured last week and hasn't
been eating well."
He leans in close and says, "See the wound on his back leg? It's looking
better."
The narrator, now analyzing Shakespeare's recovery and mental state, has
clearly led the husband down the merry mongoose trail.
In a recent episode, a mother gave birth and fussed over her brood with
tender devotion. After a commercial break, however, she did an about face
and the narrator indicated she was deeply torn over whether or not to kill
another meerkat's babies that were intruding in her burrow. Later, two
siblings were pronounced negligent in watching their wounded brother as
they scampered across the desert.
It was reminiscent of the soap opera digest that runs in the paper.
"Zarf showed up for a date with Bianca dressed as a woman named Zoe. Ryan
took Spike away from Kendall, fearing he was in danger. Jonathan attacked
Zarf/Zoe after he was questioned about the murders."
With some costume changes and a little make-up, I think the meerkats and
their narrator could pull it off. It wouldn't be "The Sopranos" or "ER" or
some other steamy night-time soap, but it would be something.
And to think that next Friday night two firecrackers such as ourselves will
probably be sitting on the couch with the remote in hand waiting for the
action. That's assuming we'll still be awake.
