its-teatime:

It made my morning, and my whole day :)

violadefalderal:

for all you people having a hard time,

the 3 good feline fairies bringing the remedies for bad days:
1. more cats
2. chocolate
3. coffee

Dr. Derp always liked to cuddle with his dolphin. He was such a darling :’)

Purchased at a local pet store on April 16th, 2012.

Bought her, a fake plant decoration, and some 7-day feeder tablets for around $15 

I loved her coloration and markings from first sight!

Approximate D.O.B.: December 2011

Her personality in a seashell: Feisty, curious, ravenous, observant

Fun Fact! The main reason I was motivated to get a betta fish was because I wanted a use for the glass vase that I had kept from my first anniversary with Alex! I thought a fish would be prettier, more unique and long lasting than flowers.

I first saw her in the aquarium section of my nearby pet store. I admired her coloring, saying how the red on her face made her look bloodied from some epic battle. She looked like a warrior fish.

A couple days later I was still thinking about her, so I went back and she was still there. She was the only betta that seemed to be watching me intently. After carefully observing each of the other fish, I decided I wanted her. She followed my movements and even chased my fingertip when I ran it across her container.

Right when I walked out of the pet store into the sunlight, I realized she wasn’t just plain old white, but had a striking blue-green iridescence that is very jewel-like.

Shiny!!

She is very enjoyable to watch, very relaxing from far away. As soon as I approach her, she swims right up to my face, sometimes casually, sometimes very expectant for a feeding, and other times she will even flare out her gills like she wants a fight!

I’ll feed her a couple kibbles or a flake at a time, a few times throughout the day. Sometimes she doesn’t see the food right away, so guide her to it by running my finger up the glass and point it out for her. When she eats kibble I can hear her crunching from under the water, and when I feed her flakes she shreds them viciously and eats every last bit of it.

OM NOM NOM!!

I think she is very relaxing and entertaining. I would love to have a big aquarium someday, but not here, not now. For the time being I am happy with my beautiful Bloodwing (Who is named after the battle hawk from the game Borderlands) and seeing my favorite vase decorated aquatically is a lovely and lively addition to the living room.

Some of Bloodwing’s decorations!

River rocks that I’ve been holding on to for ages floor the bottom of her home, and a blown glass fish for an added touch. Around the outside is a string of purple pebbles and some aquatic toys!

From behind the vase, a Wartortle appears to be swimming behind the plant

And, possibly my favorite, a “rubber” duckie floats at the surface!

As soon as I wrote about smooshing fish and snakes together, I thought of eels.
I love eels, they are so cute!

So, fish. My first fish was a Betta. In fact, my first, like, three or four fish were Bettas. I always loved to pick out the bluest greenest ones I could find. Each time I got one I named him E.T. Why? Not really sure. The first one I named E.T. for whatever reason, and so the next one was E.T. Junior, then E.T. the Third…. Typical child, I suppose hahaha.

Another quick Goolge search yielded a photo that closely resembles all the E.T.s I ever owned as a child.

I went several years with no pet fish, until that day in my senior year of high school. The day I saw him at the pet store. Swimming around in dorky circles, hyper, silly, and oh so cute. I never knew it, but that was the day I saw my favorite pet fish of the time.

A Black Kuhli Loach.

My beloved late fish, Dr. Derp.

I got the fella and a 5-gallon starter tank kit. I read the information card when I first set eyes on the loach, and the first thing I noticed was the first line, “Black Kuhli Loach (MD)” along with the basic care information. I laughed at pointed out the MD, saying, “He’s a doctor?!” (My clever wit, nyuk nyuk, nyuk!)

And so, I named him Doctor Derp.

Over the course of a few weeks, I got him some tank mates: three fancy guppies and an orange platy. Sadly, the third guppy was a homicidal psycho maniac. In my non-knowledge about aquarium care, I thought maybe they would duke it out and return to their peaceful lifestyle.

Evil fishie :C

I truly regret not removing the evil guppy when I had the chance, but I didn’t, and long story short, all the fish died, except for the orange platy which I gave to my big sister. Dr. Derp, even more tragically, was not killed by the evil guppy, but somehow managed to escape the lidded aquarium and fell onto my desk. By the time I found out his fatal mistake, he was completely dried, mummified, on my desk in front of the tank. So from about August to December, my fling with the beautiful aquarium lasted only four months.

I went quite a while without fish after that. Except for eating them, I’ll mac down some sushi any day. No shame.

Their lovely home.

Leon had an awesome blue and yellow pattern, very regal.

Herbie was my first guppy, he was a darling.

Orange platy checking himself out in the mirror.

So, that’s that, up until my current fish, who is better than the best, in my opinion.

I never had a snake as a kid. My brother did, though. He had a gopher snake when we were little. Our uncle came over around my brother’s birthday, with a small glass tank and a bag of small yellow fish. “Oh…” my brother Justin said, “Thanks.” My uncle laughed at his forced enthusiasm, “Don’t get used to these guys!” and then went to his car and retrieved the snake, which he had caught somewhere near our neighborhood.

Another successful Google image search

I really admired the gopher snake, and loved to hold it, but it was never mine and my brother and I weren’t super close so I never asked to play with it much. I don’t even remember how long he had it before he decided to release it back into the wild, but he did. I do remember one time it escaped from its enclosure and my mom was so worried when it came up missing, because we had a litter of newborn kittens in the house. (Of course he was found and returned to his enclosure, and the kittens were totally unbothered)

And…. yeah. That’s about it! I always liked snakes though, I think they’re cute. So prepare to meet my pet corn snake soon!

Pretty Lady Lily got a pretty pink collar and bell today! Now I can hear her shenanigans even when I can’t see them.

Adopted at about two and a half months from a shelter on May 17th, 2012. (MY NEW BABY!)

She stayed in the care of the shelter for a little over a month and in that time had a major surgery, got spayed, got her first shots, de-wormed, and tested negative for Feline Leukemia and AIDs. With all that the adoption fee was just $150 to support the shelter and help them rescue more animals.

One of my favorite pics of her so far, taken a few minutes after she came home

Approximate D.O.B.: March 1, 2012

When her personality is stuffed into a nutshell, she is: spunky, energetic, cuddly, feisty, loving.

Oh, Lily, where do I start with Lily…. Her eye, the one she has, it’s so pretty. It’s an awesome hazel-green, is like some rare gemstone. I couldn’t tell if it is green because it is transitioning from baby blue to yellow, or if she just has green eyes.

Her missing eye, that was surgically removed as a result of an injury she had before entering the rescue. When I first read this on her profile, that was all the information given. I could only imagine her living in the streets with her stray mother, being found by the shelter’s rescue volunteers with one eye swollen shut, possibly due to a foreign object that caused an infection, or an attack by another stray cat. I figured if I asked the shelter or her foster owner, they wouldn’t know, so I never would either.

None of that was true.

The day I adopted Lily (The shelter had named her Kaylee) I talked her foster owner into meeting me at a pet store closer to my home. The young woman walked in with a hand-me-down kennel, and I was shocked at the face I saw inside. Lily was tiny! Photos cannot capture her true petite features and just…. so small! I just about melted.

The woman gave me a rundown on Lily’s shot record, personality, all the ice-breaking this-and-that’s. Then she told me more than I ever thought I’d ever know about what happened to Lily that caused the loss of her eye. The following is a third-person account of what Lily’s foster-owner told me.

Graphic content disclaimer! Text only, no photos… Not for entertainment or shock value, but a true account of actual events, caused by horrible negligence… the real world can be scary gross sometimes, but in case any one who reads this is sensitive, I thought I’d give a heads up…

This woman talking to me, allow me to nickname her Beth, was actually the one who went and picked up Lily and her siblings. Beth had a friend, of a friend, who knew of the “caretakers” of these baby kittens. The friend told Beth, “I think you should look at these kittens and see about taking them into the shelter.” Beth was unsure, but went ahead and arranged to go see the kittens. She was shocked at what she found. Lily’s eye was in pieces, some of it hanging out of the socket. According to the unmarried couple who were somewhere in their 30’s, one of them tripped and fell on the kitten, and the eye injury was an accident.

The first thing that occurred to me was that, if somebody tripped and fell on a kitten, that the probable injury would be a broken bone, especially a limb or a rib. Still shocked at what I just heard, I voiced this to Beth. She nodded in agreement, and then told me that there was also absolutely no damage anywhere around the ripped eye. Not a bruise on the head nor a fracture in the skull nor a hair out of place. The couple failed to explain exactly how the elaborate accidental fall happened that would result in such a traumatic yet oddly localized injury.

But, you know what? I wasn’t there, Beth wasn’t there, Lily cannot communicate in such detail, and even if she could I don’t think I could ask her to. So assume it was an accident. As the laws go in America, “innocent until proven guilty.” Even so, there is ANOTHER horrific part of this story…. By the time Beth went to see these kittens…. the couple admitted that Lily’s eye had been damaged and in pieces for about a week!!! A WEEK!! This kitten was barely over a month old, and for a WEEK of that young life she was left suffering unimaginable constant pain, under questionable circumstances, for a week of that young life!!!

There is NO EXCUSE for that!! I don’t care if you don’t have money for a vet, TAKE the helpless suffering baby to the vet and work out a deal!! Don’t have the income to work out a deal? TAKE the helpless suffering baby to a shelter who WILL take care of it at NO COST TO YOU! Oh, except for the kitten, which they will take great care of until it finds a new home, since you CAN’T AFFORD TO TAKE CARE OF IT ANYWAY.

Can I tell you one more thing that pisses me off? After the shelter took custody of the kittens, and Lily’s eye got cleanly removed, the couple wanted the kittens back. -_- Beth told me that she said to them, “Over your dead bodies.” and I hope that is exactly what she told them.

Anyway….. deep breath that was nice to get off my chest. I’m only sorry that it is true. Due to shady circumstances of her first owners, and the generous heart of a rescue volunteer, Lily had her eye surgically removed on April 14th, when she was just a month and a half old. Normally vets like to wait until kittens are a certain age/size when spaying or neutering, because larger/older kittens are less vulnerable to the anesthetic. However, since Lily was having emergency surgery, they decided to get the spay over with all in one go. Poor baby!

She was given preventative antibiotics and some time to recover, until she was posted on the rescue’s website on May 5th. May 10th was the night I spotted her, and as I mentioned, she came home with me on the morning of May 16th. (I actually skipped my last Environmental Biology lecture and lab, because that morning was the only time Beth could come meet me!!)

Snoozing next to my lap the evening she came home

The thing about Lily is, she is so brave. You know how a lot of cats reach their paw out their kennel, or cry at you to be let out? Or panic when in the car, especially in a carrier? You know how a lot of kittens, when they are in a new place, they usually like to hide behind some furniture until they feel sure it is safe? You know how a lot of people have to give their new cat some time to warm up to them before they can be pet or held? Lily did absolutely none of this.

In the carrier that Beth had her in, she only flopped over onto her back, playfully nibbling the corner of her blanket. When I first held her (amazed by her barely 2 lb weight) she pressed her body right up to my shoulder and looked right into my eyes, then turned her head to idly examine the unfamiliar pet store. In the car ride home, she was in a cardboard pet carrier, with large air holes, and instead of searching for an escape, she just played with the circles of sunlight that beamed in on her. When she got to the apartment, she sniffed around curiously but never fled from me or hid anywhere!

She didn’t even run away from Kuma, even though he towers over her. Kuma is very very gentle and experienced with kittens, but of course he was still excited to meet her. He walked right up to her and gave her a whiff, and she just arched her back and hissed a little. Within half an hour she was running up to him, pretending to chase him but then circumventing him at the last second.

First she slept on the back of the couch right behind my head. Then she slept next to my lap as pictured above. Then she slept on my lap. Then on my shoulder. Then on my chest. She took lots of naps in between running around at mach speed, playing with everything she set her eye on, but every time she got tired she came right up to me for a nap. That night, she slept on the pillow right next to my head. She was already completely litter box trained, and she already knows where to find it at the back of the house in the master bathroom.

Things have been going swimmingly and I already have so many stories to tell about her! I can hardly wait to share them. :D

Asks for belly rubs! (And when I rub her belly, she actually lets me! None of that, “I’m gonna claw you as soon as you touch me” nonsense, hehehe)

And that doesn’t count the millions that are homeless in shelters, both high kill and no-kill, and strays roaming the streets.

Ancient Egyptians worshiped cats, absolutely revered and loved them. People would give their cats top-notch burial rituals and then the owners would get buried with their beloved pet. I mean, I wasn’t there, but it’s in a lot of history books and stuff. And, it’s believable. Who could resist kittyface?

I, myself, have lived with cats literally my entire life. As I said before, my mom had a cattery, TICA-registered and all. My very earliest vague memories are of Siamese cats, but when my mom heard about Ragdolls, she flipped the script and started breeding them instead.

A lot of people I talk to have never heard of Ragdolls! (Which is completely strange to me, having been raised by them practically!) Compared to a lot of breeds, they are “new,” having got their start here in America sometime in the early 1960’s. They are a big, fluffy, lazy breed of cat, averaging just about 20 lbs for an adult male and not much smaller for a female. The breed got their name for their tendency to go limp when picked up. They have striking blue eyes and well-bred individuals have luxurious coloring and markings.

Oscar is my mom’s stud male. He’s a seal bicolor. (Seal being the dark brown color and bicolor meaning he has white legs and a white nose.)
He is incredibly sweet, cuddly, and actually loves to watch television, as in this photo!

(Fun Trivia! My fiance named Oscar when he was just a wee three-week-old kitten, in February of last year!)

Anyway, so yeah. I was always exposed to cats and kittens all the way up until the day I moved out. I wanted to take Oscar with me when I moved, but my apartment requires all resident pets to be fixed, and Oscar hasn’t even begun his life as a stud yet, so…! He stayed behind with his girlfriend Shadow.

Whenever I used my laptop Oscar would hop on my lap and check out what I was doing, wouldn’t even step on my keyboard, bless the guy. Got some real lovely webcam pics of our best-buddyship.

It wasn’t long after moving out that my fiance and I started talking about cats (i.e. getting one, obvs ;p). To my surprise, he brought it up first! (I’m usually the animal-crazy one if that isn’t clear by now.) He actually really likes cats but hadn’t had one since he was a kid. The other thing that made it a topic to consider, was Kuma the dog. This is the part where Kuma butts in on this post even though it is SUPPOSED to be about CATS. Because Kuma-dog is a BUTTHEAD.

Kuma is a really, really, really good dog, but he’s never been an only dog before. When I adopted him, my sister had already had her standard Poodle, Chanel, for a year. Several years later, the day after my sister moved out with Chanel, by brother brought home his first dog, Bo. (Bo is a really cute Shar Pei-Terrier mutt) So Kuma has always had a playmate. When we first moved out, he was great, really brave, a real champ among clingy dogs.

Until he was home alone.

I had no idea there was an issue. I’d come home, and he’d greet me excitedly, but other than being happy to see me he looked no worse for wear. About, oh I’d say it was two weeks, after we moved in, I got a call from the apartment manager, saying we had a couple noise complaints from our unit during the very few hours I was away at school.

I was worried sick that we would have to re-home Kuma. That was not an option for me. BFFs do not kick each other to the curb just because one misses the other and will howl for fifteen minutes at a time for a whole hour while the other is in school. The only thing worse than re-homing him would be, like, putting him down, and that is just ludicrous and melodramatic.

The first thing we tried was a shock collar, I felt wretched about it, but I was stressed out and I craved an instant solution. We bought the collar, and the next day before school I put it on Kuma and set up my computer to record him. And that recording is how I know exactly when and how long he would howl. The collar did not do one thing except make me feel guilty, and we took it back for a refund the night after we bought it.

Then, I seemed to have an answer. I didn’t have a kennel or crate big enough for Kuma, so I improvised the comforting-den trick by closing all the windows and blinds in the bedroom, and keeping Kuma in there instead of giving him full run of the house. I recorded him every time he was home alone for three days straight, and not a peep. I had my answer. No calls ever since. But my mom would always ask, “How is Kuma doing?” “How was Kuma today while you were gone?” “Is Kuma okay?” like, every other day. While I appreciated her concern, it made me think of Kuma, alone in the bedroom with the radio playing in the kitchen, a weak ploy to make him feel like he wasn’t alone.

My impression of what is must have been like for Kuma that first day.

(end of Kuma’s part butting in on the Cats post)

So, skipping ahead several weeks, I started looking at adoptable cats online. Alex said he would be happy getting an adult cat, because, “Everyone looks them over and gets kittens instead.” So I looked, mostly on Craigslist. It was sad how many people were trying to re-home cats that were 12 years old or older. I know Alex said adult, but I didn’t think he meant senior plus, already accompanied by falling teeth and incontinence issues. It was there on Craigslist that I found a link to an animal rescue, which had a Facebook page with photo albums of adoptable cats and kittens.

Thumbing through the photo album on my phone while Alex sat on the couch next to me playing Tribes: Ascend, is when I found her. The one.

The picture I found of her. Look, Facebook even took the liberty of remembering the exact date and time!

I showed Alex, and he responded the same way as me. We loved her, instantly. I emailed the rescue asking if anyone had sent in an application for her. They said no, no one had applied. I got the go-ahead from Alex and sent in an application of my own……..

And that is how we became the proud new owners of Lily. More on her, soon!

Adopted at age 12 weeks from a shelter on July 19th, 2005.

He got neutered the day we adopted him, so his adoption fee came with his neuter, his first set of shots, a free vet checkup voucher, and a coupon book for pet supplies! (We immediately used the “One free 20lb bag of Pedigree dog food” coupon, and donated the food to the shelter. :D It felt awesome and there was a huge pile of dog food bags from other people doing the same thing)
and the adoption fee was $200. ((THANKS MOM! I was only 13 years old when we adopted him and didn’t have quite that much cash on me…but Kuma and I have been best buds since I was in middle school! BFFs!))

Approximate D.O.B.: April 22, 2005.

When his personality is tightly squeezed into a nutshell, he is: lazy, intelligent, easily trained, food-motivated, great on a leash, gentle, loves cats, generally obedient, clingy.

Sunbathing is an activity Kuma enjoys even more than me!

His only major flaw is that he will run out the door if given the chance, and will run around aimlessly, refusing to come when told and will only return when he is good and ready (usually after about 4-6 minutes of darting around peeing on things and sniffing stuff) This gives me an almost-heart attack every time because I worry about him getting hit by a car or attacked by another dog. But last time he did it I yelled at him so bad, he hasn’t done it since…

Other very minor flaws include:
-his bad breath (he is seven years old now so you can’t blame him…we are about to switch his kibble to a formula specifically designed for dogs his age that target dental issues)
-he is what we affectionately call a “fun police” (coined by my sister’s boyfriend). Basically if we are laughing too loud, talking too loud for too long, or making pretty much any noises that aren’t regular volume speech, Kuma will march up to you, snort at you, then start panting at you. If you carry on, he will fire off a quiet warning, “ruu…. ruu…” and if you don’t quiet down then, he will
BARK!!!!!…….So sometimes he has to be in time out when I have company over.
-and, lastly, he will beg at the table sometimes, but he is good about stopping when we tell him to…………but I can barely count that as a flaw what with how cute he is!

A rather heroic photo I took of him sometime in high school.

I have heard of a couple other dogs named Kuma since I adopted mine, but some people comment on what a pretty name it is, and sometimes people ask me what it means. The short answer I give, is that it means bear. When we first got Kuma, he was a super fuzzy fella, and his orange eyebrows gave him a ‘menacing’ expression even though his attitude rarely matches that. But with all that fuzzy black fur and long narrow snout, he looked a heck of a lot like a black bear cub.

Naturally, that was the first name suggestion. I didn’t want to name him bear, though, because it just seemed too basic for him. On top of that, my mom used to have a cat named Bear, so the name had already been used in our family. My sister (who loooves taking credit for this ;P) suggested that I look up “bear” in foreign languages and pick one that would make a good name. I Googled up a list, and Kuma, the Internet told me, was Japanese for “bear” so I rolled with it.

Regardless of the word, its meaning, or its origin, Kuma now is not a word, but a name for a dog, for my dog. Kuma no longer means “bear.” It now means, “really awesome dog, like a person gets a dog like this maybe once in their lifetime and Kuma is that dog for me.”

Ancient Egyptians have depicted several kids of domestic dogs, cluing those of us who weren’t around back then to their presence in that time.

Wolves, the dog’s wild ancestor, happens to be my favorite animal. Well… as close to a favorite as I can choose. I really am terrible at picking favorites. There is just something so emotional about them, the way they have a specific hierarchy, a pecking order designed for the efficiency and survival of the entire group.

The way their entire bodies are shaped to bear the harsh wilderness they live in, yet are still somehow attractive to human eyes (See: The “three wolf moon T-shirt.” Also compare to, say, a naked mole rat.) And even the complex yet readable way they communicate with each other. I think humans can relate to canine emotions and visa versa, which is what has made the friendship last through so many years and civilizations

On top of all that… wolves are just plain cute. In fact I rarely refer to plural wolves as “wolves,” instead I prefer the more smitten, “wolfies”

A few years ago my fiance emailed this image to me, I squealed over it for about five straight minutes and promptly set it as my desktop background.

My first dog was our family pet, Casie the chocolate Labrador Retriever. I was really young so I don’t remember much about her, other than her thick purple nylon collar that made her look somehow regal as it stood out from her rich brown coat. I also remember that she was a good dog, and how patient she was with me and my toddler ways.
I also remember the day she broke my leg.

Of course, it wasn’t Casie’s fault. In fact, I don’t think there is blame to place on anyone, other than myself but it’s really not that fair to blame a naive five-year-old for inflicting such pain in herself.
It’s not a very long story. My big sister had taken the dog for a walk, and when I heard them return to the back yard I ran out excitedly to play with Casie. My sister could tell the dog was getting too excited, and yelled at me to go back inside. However, I did not like the tone she had with me (my big sis was quite bossy when we were little, sometimes for my own good like on this day, and sometimes frivolously. I was too young to tell the difference.)

It was then that I saw Casie’s rawhide bone on the ground in front of me. It was one of the ones that was curled and knotted at both ends, it looked like a barbell to me. So I picked it up and lifted it over my head, pretending to be a weight lifting champion or something. It was then that Casie broke free of her leash, escaping my sister’s attempts to restrain her, and lunged up for the bone, pushing me down with all her weight and forcefully collapsing me to the ground.

I vaguely remember some of the sharp pain, a little of my unrestrained bawling, and a flash of being loaded into the back of the car, headed for the hospital. I swear I even remember the moment I blacked out, right after they buckled me in.

And, the last of the event that has stayed in my memory, was visiting Casie a few days later in her new home, with a man who had several Labradors and would take them mock hunting at the lake. I always felt a slight pang of guilt that I triggered the event that caused Casie to be re-homed.

I don’t have any digital photos of Casie, but this fine specimen from a quick Google image search resembles her.

Over the course of the rest of my young childhood, we had a couple other dogs. My sister got a cream-colored Canaan named Maxine or “Maxie”, who we gave back to the breeder after a few months because she grew into a cat-chaser and ankle nipper.

A few years later I missed having a dog so much, my parents agreed to let me get one, on the condition that it had to be a toy breed. I did not know it at the time, but I do not like toy dogs at all. One bit. Sure they’re cute, sure I’ll pet one. But to own one? I will never do it again if I can help it.

Not to offend those who do love and own them… but the difficulty with potty training, the hardly-ever-controllable yapping, I’m just not a fan after my own first hand experience with Cosmo, my precious teacup Chihuahua. He always loved to poo and pee on bath mats, rugs, and pretty much anywhere not outside. He sure was cute, but even as a child I felt such disdain for his constant mess-making. After about a year we gave him to my uncle, who still has him.

Photo by my sister, of me at about age 10, with my baby teacup Chihuahua Cosmo

And that is my start in life with dogs, and probably how I ended up with Kuma, in my opinion one of the best dogs ever. More on him later. This post is already longer than it needs to be, sorry about that!

Kuma at age 3

However, I love animals, I love having pets, and I love my pets. I always have. It’s in my DNA, and it also has a lot to do with my upbringing, I suppose.

When I was a baby, my mom raised Siamese cats. When I was just a toddler, she started raising Ragdoll cats instead, and I grew up regularly exposed to the wonderful experience of watching fluffy blue-eyed affectionate creatures grow from babies and find loving homes.

So yeah I had it pretty good as a kid. What little girl wouldn’t want to be surrounded by kittens?!

I also always loved dogs, as well. And small animals, reptiles, birds….. Well, animals in general.

I also always agreed with the slogan, “Don’t breed or buy while shelter dogs and cats die,” which may seem contradicting with my upbringing in an AKC-registered cattery. But it’s true. There are so many homeless animals in need, why not help one in need?

From “Bolt”

Anyway. To cut to the chase,

-this blog is going to be about my pets.

-I have a dog, a hedgehog, a fish, a snake, and a kitten.

-Their life stories make up a part of my life story and they mean so much to me. I don’t really mind who reads this or who doesn’t, it’s just a way to outlet some of my internal monologues and send out adorable photos of my adorable pets.

-I hope to be informative and insightful, and I hope if anyone does read this and is curious about any of the animals I care for, that they would ask me questions, which I would be more than happy to answer to the best of my ability.

-If you enjoy it, that’s just icing on the cake.