This post is not meant to belittle the experience of Stockholm Syndrome by actual captives, but rather to celebrate how friendship shakes me out of my occasional adoption of Canada’s / Canadian’s holier-than-thou attitude toward the United States / Real ‘mericans.
I recently read about a puffin from Newfoundland who was found in Montreal and sent home on a flight in time for Christmas. This seemed particularly cute, because come on, it’s a puffin, and I just imagined it with a little suitcase and one of those notes pinned to its shirt for the flight attendants: “I am a minor traveling alone. Please don’t feed me cooked fish.”
This adorable story contrasts with that time my mom called me to make sure I hadn’t been mauled and / or eaten by a bobcat found at my L stop in Chicago. The Big, Bad ‘merican authorities definitely did not put it on a plane to send it back to the woods of Wisconsin. They shot it dead.
In searching for information about that Chicago-area incident in 2007 (which may have been a coyote, but either way, it did not make it home in time for Christmas), I found this story about a coyote who did get sent home (after being checked for rabies) by Reasonable, Responsible ‘merican authorities.
When I sent the puffin tale to one of my Canadian friends, he pointed out that Ottawa* police just go around shooting moose, so maybe my Stockholm Syndrome is a bit misplaced after all.
It seems that people, for the most part, will do what they think they gotta do, no matter which side of the mythical 49th parallel they fall on.
* Here I am referring to the capital of Canada. I know it’s confusing because there are other, more famous, Ottawas. They all derived their name from the Algonquin word for trading place, per DJ.