Hoot speaks out

Last week, for Valentine's Day, Zozer's class had a Teddy Bear Tea Party. Each child in the Bunny Room was instructed to bring a teddy bear for the tea party. M and I got the note from her teachers and eyed each other warily. "Can Hoot go?" Zo, as you know, is not a traditional teddy bear kind of girl. She much prefers owls. "I dunno," I told M, "I'll ask tomorrow." I asked the teachers and they glanced at each other and replied, "Well, we guess so, but it's really supposed to be teddy bears." Oh, for the love of Pete.

So the night before the party I collected all bears from Zoe's stuffed animal collection and made what in hindsight resembled a furry police line-up. She walked up and down the line, looking carefully. Finally she chose a small white bear that sports a blue sweater with a smiley face. We took him in the next day (with Hoot, of course, who spends all time except for nap time in her cubby) and all was well.

Apparently not. I received a distressed call from Hoot that afternoon. Apparently he receives decent cell reception in the cubby. He had witnessed the Teddy Bear Tea Party and was understandably upset at his exclusion. He had composed a letter and asked me to type it and deliver it to Zoe's teachers, which I did. It is as follows:

Dear Ms. Shari and Ms. Carrie,

Unfortunately, I feel compelled to bring a disturbing issue to your attention. It occurred to me today, whilst in the confines of Zoe’s cubby, that rampant discrimination is taking place in the Bunny room. Only teddy bears were invited to the tea party today, and I must raise my owly voice in protest. I must hoot for what is right.

You have no idea what I go through on a daily basis. I am jerked about, cried on, squished, forgotten, smashed and have even been the target of vomit. My wings are yanked, and I’m regularly held by only one (which is highly uncomfortable). I sleep with Zoe, which typically means I sleep under Zoe and am sometimes drooled upon.

I attend school every day with her, and stay home with her when she’s sick. I go to the doctor with her, and all family functions. I sit on Santa’s lap, and the Easter Bunny’s. (Next year I plan to lobby for an owl to be the international mascot of a major holiday…if the groundhog gets one, why shouldn’t I?) I sit in a steamy bathroom for every single bath, and am typically targeted with the blow dryer when she is. I am her near-constant companion, and I go the extra mile for that kid…one look at my current physical condition is proof. I should get hazard duty pay.

And yet, I was banned from the tea party today. Owls need love, too, you know. I had to sit in the cubby and listen while that stupid bear with the smiley face sweater (who is years old and still looks in perfect condition, a testament to the cushy life he leads) enjoyed a lovely day out.

It is simply not fair. I realize that nothing can be done now, as the party is already over. I speak out in the hopes that owls in the future will be allowed to attend social events in the Bunny room.

Sincerely,

Hoot G. Zlatic
President, National Association for the Advancement of Owls

Unfortunately, Hoot's letter did not produce the reaction he desired, which was a formal apology and a promise to include owls in future events. Nope. The teachers cracked up laughing and shared it with all the other teachers at the school, and the principals. Poor Hoot. That owl just can't catch a break.