Carl enjoys his new job

Well it's been quite a couple of weeks, I can tell you. I'm an employee now.  Well not paid or anything... although it wouldn't hurt if they slipped me the odd wildebeest/puppy.  No, I am what you would call an honorary employee.  And it's all good.


Keep Carl
Source: Rockhard Creations



I no longer sit on the storage heater, watching the telly.  Telly was getting a bit boring anyway.  Now, I sit on a desk divider in a big old office.  And it's all going on there.  I've learnt a lot.  I now know loads of really specialist job stuff, like facebook and football and even buses.  Buses are what humans use because they don't have a powerful propulsive tail, like crocs.



I'm also starting to understand what it means to be a mascot.  What it is, is that every now and again you get fondled thoughfully.  It's like I'm a source of inspiration.  And from what I understand, things been going well since I've been there.

Anyway.  Just thought I'd check in.  It's been ages since I blogged.  Almost two weeks.  It's not laziness, though; it's busyness.  And right now, busyness is good.

Best regards

Carl

Carl gets a job

One minute I was an ebay 'item', the next, I'm getting a job offer.  Funny old world, innit?

You see, the person that bought me wants me to be a mascot at my Keeper's work.  A team mascot.  When the Keeper told me, I got a bit excited (cf June 30 post).  You see, I thought he said I was gonna eat a mascot.  I figured a mascot was one of those dog crosses, like a labradoodle.  You now, part mastiff, part scottie dog.  I thought, well I've never tried that, but I can be quite adventurous with food.

I'M NOT THIS KIND OF MASCOT
(Source: arsenal.com)

Anyway, that's not what a mascot is.  It's actually like a symbol; a source of inspiration, the Keeper says.  So I got him to show me some mascots on the internet and I'm not sure.

Sometimes they seem to be humans in big fluffy costumes... like Gunnersaurus Rex. (see right).

Crocs don't like pretending to be what they're not.  Unless it's a log, obviously.  But that's for dinner reasons.

Turns out, though, that I can just be myself.  I just gotta hang out and be me.  That, I can do.

Happy July


Carl

Carl has sold!

Well, it's finally happened.  I been bought!  If you were unlucky enough to miss it, then it all went down at 12:58 today.

CROC BOTTLE
(Source: crazysand.co.uk)

I'm kind of excited.  It's not like human excitement, though.  Reptilian excitement is a more laid back affair.  We learn to hide it well.  We have to.  Imagine a tender young wildebeest watering at the side of a stinky river.  Now imagine a croc lying in wait, peering up from the depths.  Only, that old croc has such a munch-on that he starts swishing his tail, frothing at the mouth and auto-deathrolling like some crazy alligator.  Sure as anything, that wildebeest's gonna show a clean set of hooves and be tagging on to the end of the southerley migration before you can say Sobek (see May 31 post).

So we kinda keep it all bottled up.  My Keeper says that's a metaphor.  If like me, you have trouble with metaphors, then there's a picture above which shows a bottled croc.

Anyway, all that remains now is for the filthy lucre to change hands and I'm outta this place.  Gonna say farewell to the Keeper, the storage heater, the telly and everything and say hello to new stuff.  Possibly involving puppies growing on trees (see June 29 post).

So long for now,


Carl

Carl holds his breath

This is the Keeper speaking.  I realise that I won't be the Keeper for much longer, so I suppose you could describe me as the outgoing Keeper or even the lame-duck Keeper.  Nevertheless,  I currently have the authority to speak on Carl's behalf.

WHAT LURKS BENEATH THE STILL WATERS?
(Source: huffingtonpost.com)

You see he is literally holding his breath in anticipation of the big sale.  It's due to end tomorrow evening.  Obviously, breath-holding is not especially problematic for a wooden crocodile since wooden crocodiles might generally be described as respiration-negative.  However, he did ask me to leave you with his final fact, which, as always, is entirely appropriate to his current predicament:


Carl's Croco-fact #11

Crocs can stay underwater for more than an hour on account of their croc haemoglobin which fills the blood with bicarbonate ions.

So wooden or not, crocs can hold their breath a long time, although up until 8pm tomorrow may be a bit of a big ask...

Happy bidding.


The Keeper

Carl feels the nerves

Two days to go.  Oh man, am I feeling it.  All around the world there are animals feeling like me... changes to their natural habitat, human domination, decline of dinner animals...  Now, the Keeper's den is puppy-free and there's not much chance of a lost wildebeest wandering by, but at least I got me telly.  And a comfy spot on the storage heater.

Come, the first of July, it's all gonna change.  Could be that I become the property of a twerp, or an alligator-lover... or a vegetarian.  That's the trouble with ebay.  You don't know what you're gonna get.

So yeh.  I'm feeling a bit apprehensive.

Let me test you on something...  Where do crocodiles live?  Sound like an easy question?  You're gonna say Africa or India, aren't you? Well, fair play.  But there's something you might not be aware of.

MMMM.  WHERE PUPPIES GROW ON TREES
(Source: morningstarbordercollies.com)

Carl's Croco-fact #10

When people (humans) think of the Americas, they always think about alligators.  Well actually, there is an American Crocodile.  And it's protected.  Unfortunately, the American Alligator is also protected to stop people accidentally killing crocs. 

I know.  Lucky twerps.  They're not endangered at all, but they benefot from the plight of their superior cousins.


Anyway, what I'm getting at is that, like the American Crocodile, my habitat is changing in a couple of days.  Could be I go to a magical place where the puppies grow on trees *(see picture above) and stinky riverness is all around.  Or could be I get bought by a business person without a true appreciation of my uniquely endangered woodcrafted, handcarved charm.  Stubby claws crossed...

Until the next time,


Carl

Carl is feeling the heat

Phew wot a scorcher.  You wouldn't believe how hot it is sitting up here on my storage heater.  Obviously, the heater's not on.  Feels like it is though.

Actually, I'm feeling the heat in more ways than one...  Three days to go until the sale. Not that there's been much more bidding action.  Not surprised, really.  They're all leaving it until the last minute so they get me for the best possible price.  I'm certainly a steal at my current price...

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeh.  The heat.  Well here's a totally appropriate fact for you to mull over:

I GOT THE MOUTH SWEATS
(Source: hot photoshoot)

Carl's Croco-fact #9

Sometimes you might see a croc basking on the bank with its mouth open.  Why's that?  Is he hungry?  Is he waiting for an egyptian plover to give him a clean (see June 21 post)?  Is he just showing off?  Nope, all wrong.  He's cooling down.  Crocs sweat through their mouths!

Hehe.  Amazing, aren't we!

Stay cool,


Carl

Carl answers the ultimate question

Do crocodiles love?

That's an interesting question, that is.  It doesn't take a lot of imagination to think of stuff that you could say crocs love.  We got wildebeest, fish... puppies...  But that's dinner-love and almost goes without saying.

You might recall an earlier post (June 7 ) where I talked about a cow - a she-croc - emerging dripping and bow-legged from a stinky river.  The Keeper says that makes him think of a human that he knows called Ursula Andress.  But that's not love, that's rumpy-pumpy.  In fact, it's not even that.  It's thinking about rumpy-pumpy.

Crocs understand dinner and they understand rumpy-pumpy. But do they love?  My answer is this:

DO CROCS LOVE?
(Source: scenicreflections.com)

Crocs love the river, slow-flowing and deep.  It supports em while they do the old log-float,; it churns pleasingly when they do the old deathroll; it protects them when they're on the bottom looking up at splashing feet, or oars.  Without the river, the croc is nothing but a washed-up lizard.   The river sees them at their best, and their worst.  You always know where you are with a river.  In it, by it, on it.

For a croc, it's never about the rumpy-pumpy.  Or even the dinner.  It's about having a place.  And that place is a stinky old river, every time.

So I hope that explains the crocodile perspective.

If you want to know more, you can ask me in 'person'.  Just takes a bid...

love,



Carl