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My name is Devan Coggan. I am 19 years old, and I am a journalism major at Northwestern University. I am originally from St. Louis.
Sometimes I blog about stuff.

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  1. So, my dad’s a vet.

    There are a lot of benefits and drawbacks to this. On one hand, he’s got tons of wild stories, and I’ve gotten to meet a lot of cool people and animals. (Lions, tigers, and bears… oh my! No, seriously. There’s even a monkey named after my brother.) On the other, it’s a thankless job with terrible hours. Dogs don’t care if it’s Christmas morning and you’re opening presents with your family; to them, that sounds like a fine time to start bleeding from the eyes.

    But no matter what? Life with a vet is never boring.

    Case in point: Today I received a series of text messages from my father, including the above pictures. A vomiting golden retriever came to his clinic today, and this is what the X-ray showed up. A quick peek into the stomach with an endoscope revealed that, yes, it was a My Little Pony. After a little research, I believe it’s Shining Armor? Long story short, he removed it, and both dog and pony are doing well (although Shining Armor’s looking a little yellow). 

    He’s pulled a lot of weird things out of animals. There was the cat who ate coins and the corgi who swallowed a small frog statue… Underwear is always popular, particularly lacy thongs, and I don’t know why Barbie shoes are so appealing, but they are. This, however, marks the first My Little Pony. 

    Like I said, never boring.

     
     
  2. Things that come up when you Google my name.

    Things that come up when you Google my name.

     
     
  3. Passed this graffiti on the sidewalk tonight, had to stop and take a picture. Walk dinos, not bikes.

    Passed this graffiti on the sidewalk tonight, had to stop and take a picture. Walk dinos, not bikes.

     
     

  4. In other news, I was stalked by a goose this morning.

    Really.

    The SAE fraternity national headquarters are like a block from my dorm, and there’s this freaking Canadian goose who basically lives in their front yard. He is there every… single… day… Usually he just stands there and watches you walk by, giving you this sort of discerning anserine look. (Anserine means “of or like a goose.” Fun fact.) Today he decided to stand in the middle of the sidewalk as I was rushing to my 10 a.m. English midterm. Thanks, goose.

    I tried to step around him, but he stepped with me, guarding me like some sort of menacing basketball player. I have expected to get a wing to the face a la Metta World Peace. I went right, he went right. I went left, he went left. Then, he decided to start snapping and hissing. And it was terrifying. I’m just trying to get to my midterm on time, but here’s this goose, clacking his beak and posturing like he’s gonna start stampeding.

    I start backing away, and he follows me. He’s giving me this look, like, “Oh yeah, you run for it, blondie. This is my motherfreakin’ sidewalk, and I will be DAMNED if you are going to arrive at your midterm on time. Yeah, that’ll make you think twice about walking through my hood like you own it. Who owns it? Me, baby. I own it.” I half expected him to whip out a wizard’s staff and pull a straight-up Gandalf, booming, “YOU… SHALL… NOT… PASS!!!!” And half of me is like, “GOOSE I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS” while the other half is thinking, “Holy hell, I’m going to get slaughtered by a goose.”

    Finally some old guy walks out of SAE and throws a slice of Wonder bread at the freakin’ goose, who immediately loses interest in me. I see my chance and make a break for it. I half debated yelling over my shoulder, “YEAH, EAT THAT WONDER BREAD. I HOPE IT MAKES YOU FAT, YOU ASININE ANSERINE.” But then I realized I was in a public place and I already looked like enough of an idiot being stalked by a goose.