Pet Compendium

In light of recent events, I find myself thinking back on all of the animal friends in my life that have passed over the Rainbow Bridge. It is a bittersweet mix of happy memories and sadness that they are gone.

Buster and Bonnie
The very first animals I remember having in the house were a pair of zebra finches named Buster and Bonnie. They had the cutest chirps and I loved Buster’s bright orange cheeks.

"We may be siblings, but that doesn't mean we are going to stop
trying to have babies together!" – Buster and Bonnie

Occasionally, we let them out to fly around the house. One time when I was four or five, I let them out and they flew into the Christmas tree and tried to nest in it. I thought it AWESOME. They were just like my own personal kick-ass Christmas movie animals. Like when Chip and Dale live in Mickey’s Christmas tree. My parents didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm as they tried to return them to their cage.

But Mom! Why CAN'T they live in the tree?!

Marbles
The first pet that actually "belonged" to me was Marbles. He was a light grey tiger cat that was super cuddly; however, he was clearly mentally challenged. He walked into walls, had issues landing on his feet when he fell, and couldn’t climb trees…mostly he just jumped at the trunk and hung there with a look of triumph on his face like, “Hey! I just climbed me a tree! Did you see that?!”

Hence the name Marbles. As in, he had lost them all.

His favorite place to sleep was a spot he hollowed out in my boxspring. I used to lay my baby sister on the floor and run my hand along the underside of the boxspring. He would spaz out while he chased my fingers and she would giggle.

Yeah...that's true...

Rosie
My next cat was named Rosie. She was also a grey tiger cat, but she was kind of an aloof bitch. But she was laid back enough to let my little sister “carry” her around the house sometimes. At least until the tick incident…

Oh you poor cat, you had no idea what was to come...

Stephis had just learned all about checking for ticks and bugs at school, so she would help mom find them on the cat when she came in. One day, Rosie was standing on the back of one of our armchairs and Stephis yelled out, “LOOK MOM! There’s a tick! RIGHT! THERE!” She proceeded to poke poor Rosie right in the butthole. The cat flipped the fuck out and was understandably skittish around Stephis from then on.

Right in the pooper. And yes, these are crocheted cat asses that you can actually buy.

Ass-load of fish
Our next pets were all fish. Like a cubic buttload of fish. They died off pretty quickly, which we later realized was because our tap water was basically liquid iron. Our longest lived ones were two little neons named Stripe and Banana-Butt (guess which one was my sister's).

Haha, You have 'butt" in your name!

We added in a sucker fish to keep the tank clean and Stephis wanted to name “Sucky". She was talked into calling him “Sticky” instead, for some reason...

You want to name me WHAT?!

ChipThen my sister demanded a dog. Momet finally caved saying she wanted something small, like a terrier. They came home with a Black Lab/Great Dane mix puppy my sister had fallen in love with. She named him Chip. His feet were the size of saucers, he was clumsy, and his tail was forever sweeping things off low-lying shelves and tables, but he was the sweetest, most lovable lump of love ever.

Uh...hi. This isn't what it looks like.

One night he woke us all up with a cacophony of barking and growling. Momet was not in the mood for his bullshit and stomped out to the kitchen with us trailing sleepily behind to see what he was barking at. Seeing him looking out the sliding glass door, she immediately went over and flicked on the light, preparing to tell him, “See? Nothing out there. Now go to sleep!” but when the light came on, it revealed a gigantic-ass bear no more than three feet from the glass, eating out of our suet feeder. He turned his head to look at us and Chip stopped promptly stopped barking, probably thinking something along the lines of, “Oh shit…”. As a testament to her fortitude, Momet calmly flicked off the light and after a moment of silence said, “Okay. Not buying anymore suet…” and ushered us off to bed.

"What the fuck do you want? I'm eating here bitch." – Goddamn Bear

All in all we have had some good pets.

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In other kind-of related news, Fizz's cremains are coming home tonight when I go pick them up from UPS because they are assholes. If you don't know, cremains require a signature, in person, when they are delivered because they don't want grandma getting swiped by the dude down the street that steals all your packages.

Including that package from Amazon that was filled with toilet paper and pads.

They made the first delivery attempt last Thursday and never left a sticker saying they were there.

Because I am just supposed to sense their presence with my force powers?

The next attempt, they left a sticker telling us they would be back sometime between 10am and 2pm on Monday. The time when they usually stop by. When we are never goddamn home. That would have been their final attempt before shipping it back to Angel View Pet Cemetery who had done the cremation for us. Fantastic. AND the UPS offices aren't open on weekends and their website is useless when it doesn't recognize your fucking tracking number as being a real thing.

A reenactment of what my tracking number looked like to UPS.

Eventually I told them to just hold the damn package and that is why I have to go pick up a package from a fucking delivery company.

FML

Hi.

I was set upon by crazed sales people who needed a stupid amount of labels designed in a ridiculously short period of time, because clearly it is my fault that they waited until the last minute.

I will endeavor to post tomorrow.

Happy Shit – 11/30/12

So, it is the end of another week. A very stressful, sad week for me but it is slowly getting better.

Fun fact of the day: During a solar eclipse, the temperature can drop as much as 20 degrees (That is in Fahrenheit, which is approximately 6-7 degrees Celsius, I think...).

In other words, it is like a normal day in New England.

Anyway, here is some cool/funny shit I saw this week:

The Parent Rap. These parents are legit yo.

Rollin' with their own little posse...aw yeah.

The latest Ask A Mortician video, which is all about donating your corpse to science. It is a fascinating subject to me. If you want to know more about what happens or could happen to your body post-you, you should read the book Stiff by Mary Roach. It is awesomesauce.

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna donate my body to...math...?"

Are you technologically dependent? I have to say...I do most of these things. Except bringing my phone in the bathroom. Then it will get butt germs on it, and that isn't cool.

Watching TV WHILE fiddling with my phone? I am a fucking multitasker.

Strippers, alligators, AND weed? WTF?!

Little known fact: Strippers and alligators make terrible guards for your weed stash.

A heart-warming story for this time of year. No, seriously it is really a wonderful heartwarming story. Involving boots. Which you have probably all seen on the news by now, but I don't care.

Possibly even this boot.

An hour of the amazing Lord of the Rings soundtrack played live.

That guy is totally thinking,"Could I be more badass right now
WITHOUT setting myself on fire? Nope!"

And that is it for this week.

Fly Away

Last night Fizz succumbed to his illness.

I feel like a part of me has died. I can't stop crying. It was the right thing to do as he was suffering, but that is a small comfort. It hurts, yet I feel numb.

Fly away my sweet boy, I will love you forever.

Fizz
December 2006 - November 2012

Sick Pig 2

Hi all. I am not feeling very bloggy today. My little Fizz has taken a turn for the worse and I am an absolute mess. It is a high probability we will lose him unless something miraculous happens.

I feel sick. I have hardly eaten. I can't sleep until I am absolutely exhausted and then I have horrible dreams about it. I am sad and worried because he is sick and in pain. I just want him to be his happy bouncy self, pushing around ottomans with his freakish shoulder strength instead of laying in his cage all listless and tired.

I am worried about Fig and what will happen if we lose his buddy. He is a senior guinea pig (6 years old) and I am not planning to get another one, at least not yet. I just can't. But I don't want to deprive Fig of the happiness of a cage mate, especially since David and I both work.

When the vet called with the update this morning, I just broke. Even now at work I am crying and I haven't been able to stop. It hurts and I am so frustrated that I can't do anything to help him.

Sorry for two weeks in a row of this.