The One Where I Shock My Readers

You opened the post. I’m so glad I didn’t scare you away. Do you ever find comfort in the sameness of things, of knowing exactly what to expect, be it reading a blog or ordering your same vanilla latte every Friday morning from the same employee at the same little coffee shop? Yeah, me, too. And sometimes you walk in to that coffee shop on a Thursday, or that familiar face has been replaced by someone you’ve never seen before, and it’s jarring. The safe place has been compromised. Brace yourselves. The battlements have been breached.

You come here to see this:

Pyxis planicauda. One of the rarest of the Malagasy dwarf tortoises. Critically endangered. Hatched this week. You’re welcome.

 

But today, I bring you this. Click to enlarge them. I double-dog dare you!

Ears are closed

He is the only one who’s not black, so he is usually referred to as “White Boy.” I call him Vanilla Ice and expect he’ll play that funky music.

At the lunch counter

Black puppies are hard to photograph!

This is the little one. He’s tiny, and he doesn’t have a fingernail polish mark on his head. Small? Unmarked? I call him Bill.

 

I know. They’re mammals, not reptiles. Sometimes I need to shake things up.  I do hope you’ll forgive me.

 

*** Just so’s you know, these aren’t my puppies. I have the privilege of puppy-sitting for a friend. Photographing newborn puppies? Sure, twist my arm, why don’t you?

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Entitlement

Where is kitty? Apparently wherever she wants to be.

And the cereal cabinet. How thoughtful of me to take out the Cheerios to make room for her.

 

And then there’s this:

My clean laundry. On my kitchen table. Because it was warm.

 

She’s 18. She can do as she pleases.

 

Would Time Stand Still

The biggest surprise is that it comes as a surprise to me at all. I’ve known how it all will end, that it will end, and sooner rather than later. I’ve even said it out loud in my most grown-up and matter-of-fact voice. And yet  I am rocked to the core of my being.  One soon, she’ll be gone.

Looking good for an old lady.

 

It may come as a surprise to some, but I can be very logical, even practical. Her body has begun to fail her. A diagnosis of kidney failure was our first reminder that time, as it is with all of us, was limited. “She’s an old cat,” I said. “She’s lived a good life.” We held her, I wept. I had always imagined fifteen years with her, but you get what you get, right?

Time passed. Her organ failure did not progress, and she thrived. And when she approached the magic age, when she turned 15, I thought I must be ready. I said “This may be our last Christmas with Piper.” And we gathered around to fuss, to pet her, to appreciate her for a moment. Fifteen turned into sixteen, followed much too quickly by seventeen. With each passing year, the ritual becomes less meaningful. For awhile we could believe that this scrappy cat would defy all logic and the limitations of biology and live forever. I believed it.

But time doesn’t stand still, and nothing, no one, goes on forever. She is failing still more. My wake up came three days ago as I watched her struggle to climb the stairs, her back end swaying as she tried to keep her legs under her, an issue she has never had before. That was the moment I was struck by the weight of inevitability, the moment my heart heard truth. We are going to lose her.

No matter what I said before, how logical and detached I could be, I did not believe. I believe now. Borrowed time takes on new meaning when it comes to someone you love.

She still has some fight left, her paws tapping out a playful cadence as she tries to catch the string on my jacket. She purrs. It takes little to make her happy. A warm lap, a soft stroke. She eats, both our biggest victory and our greatest fear. When she quits eating, we will know that it is time.

She is living the dream now. The cold is hard on old bones, so I heat a rice sock to warm her. She experiences privilege unknown, the lone animal invited into the inner sanctum; my bedroom. I ignore these self-imposed restrictions and my ensuing allergy attacks, and invite her under the blanket to curl up on the electric mattress cover. Her preferred perch is on my lap as I write. Not only do I comply, I insist. I take her with me when I change rooms if she is not already sleeping comfortably. I need every stolen moment I can get. To prepare.

But how do you prepare? How do you say goodbye to someone who has shared your life and your adventures for going on 18 years? I am at a loss.

 

You Mean NOTHING To Me!

No, not you! You mean everything to me. I’m talking about the time change. Daylight Saving Time kicks in this weekend. When I was a kid, and even in the early years of marriage, fall was my favorite because I got an extra hour of sleep! Yay! Now I could not care less about the big event. I’ll give you five reasons.

She’s old and set in her ways. She expects breakfast at 5:30 as it is, and we don’t get up  ’til 6.

If she even thinks she’s going to miss a meal, she protests.

Our train-wreck of a cat. She’s not as dire as she looks. Even her photo won’t align right.

She only pretends to like us.

’nuff said.

Enjoy your hour, if you can get it!

 

Advantages to Keeping Reptiles

1) No one takes your ice cream. Because it’s resting on a bag of frozen rats.

2) You have a use for all of those college text books. 

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The more weighty the tome, the better. I recommend something other than the Twilight series. Not only are they rather lightweight in a literary sense, trade paperbacks aren’t heavy enough to hold a rosy boa in its cage.

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3) Overnight visitors are rare. Buy one snake, and suddenly all the out-of-town family is piling into a hotel. And they invite you to swim in the pool. Double score!

4) All the neighborhood kids think that you’re the coolest parent in the entire world. What kid doesn’t want to share a room with a python?

5) Your bad-itude level increases exponentially. People will not mess with you when they hear the words “Yeah, I’ve got to go home and feed my boa.” There is no need to add that said boa is five inches long.

BIG, SCARY BOA! Do not be messing with me.

There may be a few disadvantages, too.

1) Cages can’t be kept too near a window. Not because of drafts, but because their red night bulbs give the neighbors (and the cops) the wrong idea.

2) It’s extra sad to open the freezer and realize the only thing you have to eat is a bag of rats.

3) It’s hard to find a house-sitter. 

4) Reptiles have no respect for the saying “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” 

5) People who live in the same house don’t appreciate nearly drinking a mouse that is thawing in their favorite cup. There might be an entire blog post on this particular topic. Sorry, sweetie! I’ll try to remember to quit using your cup!

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: A Marriage of Convenience

Squish has decided that Blossom the Brainless Cat is almost as good as having a little brother. And it’s the closest he will ever get. (Why do I hear God laughing every time I say something like that?)

Blossom has decided that it is fall, and Squish is warmer than the laminate flooring. It’s a match made in heaven. Or Purgatory. I’m not sure how long this will last.

I can’t explain the helmet except to say that perhaps he is preparing for the bumps along the road to a true relationship. Or he was riding his bike in the family room.

 

Easing You Into Monday

It’s me here! Ready to make your Monday a little less awful!

Last Monday I featured something you never thought you’d see on my blog. MAMMALS! We visited with a litter of newborn English cocker spaniel puppies. Guess what? They’ve grown like little monsters. Don’t believe me? Check it out.

At two weeks of age, their eyes are opening.

LOOK! Peepers!

And they’re taking their first wobbly steps.

She’s still pretty unsteady on her pins.

But they still do a lot of this:

Look at how much pigment has appeared in their tiny little noses. Their heads are lovely. They have potential to be wonderful show dogs.

 

Hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago, the puppy on the right looked like this:

So tiny.

Jill  requested an update when they started playing. I aim to please, you know!

 

and then there’s this one:

 

Happy Monday, friends!

 

 

 

You Never Thought You’d See This On MY Blog!

I’m usually so predictable.You’ve come to expect certain things of me. I eat MoonPies, I…wait. What else do I do? Oh, yeah. I post pictures and stories of baby reptiles. Now I’m shaking things up. This morning, I ate a cupcake for breakfast, and now I bring you photos of baby mammals! It’s a mixed up, crazy world.

A friend of mine raises and shows English cocker spaniels. Last week, her lovely girl had a litter of much-anticipated puppies. Since my friend works full-time, I’m the puppy sitter! Long before I ever grew scales and a shell, I was a dog girl.

One day old and already knows how to take care of business.

Each pup is marked with a dab of nail polish (see, not so different from tortoises!), a different color for each pup. This is Green Girl.

The mom’s name is Lily. Doesn’t she have the most wonderful face?

All lined up at the lunch counter

The differences between baby reptiles and baby mammals are vast. Newborn mammals are helpless and completely dependent on their moms. Newborn puppies can’t even hear yet!

Look at how their ears are closed. They are less than a day old here. Ears and eyes don’t open for a couple of weeks.

If you watched Friday’s video, you’ve seen a tiny bog turtle, only a month older than these puppies, hunt down a cricket. Reptiles come into the world prepared to get the job done. Mammals don’t. They have to learn how to be the animals they are, and one of the ways they practice their mad mammalian skills is through play. Reptiles don’t play.

Right now, the puppies don’t play, either. They do a lot of this:

This is puppy at one week of age. Note the pigment that is now appearing on her nose. And the fuzz that is beginning to fill in on her muzzle makes her look out of focus, even in person.

But very soon, they will wake up and play. I can’t wait!

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: What Cats Think of Roofers

Apparently cats do not hold roofers in high regard. At least the cats who can hear.

She has abandoned the prime real estate on the back of the couch upstairs in favor of a tiny space under a Duplo table next to a Tonka truck. comfy, no? Um, no.

Poor kitty! Please excuse the ugly furniture. We have two old and incontinent cats, so we are holding off on buying anything new for a bit.

 

It Really Works!

I’m a little embarrassed to share some of this with you. It’s terrible. Seriously terrible. Why do I feel like the whole world is suddenly listening in? But at least I learned something along the way.

There’s a great debate the true secret to weight-loss. Some argue fewer calories. Others hate on carbs. Still others eschew the fat. And a few crazies are proponents of exercise to lose extra pounds. I had an opportunity recently to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Okay, here is the horrible part. I have a cat. Actually, I have three, but only one of them has this particular problem. My cat was fat. Like, seriously fat. Weighing nearly as much as Squish fat. Not just big-boned. She was a porker. See?

Yeah. For real. That’s an eight-year-old child. Still think I’m exaggerating? And this was two years and about two pounds ago.

I was looking at kitten pictures of that particular cat a couple of months ago, and I was horrified. I saw how small, and sleek and healthy she used to be. And I knew I had to do something. I saw specters of diabetes and other serious medical issues looming in her future. I needed to act, and I did.

I mentioned that we have three cats. We fed them all out of two large bowls in our family room, filling them only when they were empty. Two of the cats do just fine on this arrangement. The third cat ballooned to cartoonish proportions. She is a resource-guarder, and she would choke down as much food as she could hold just so the other cats couldn’t get it. Sounds like me. Um, forget I said that.

Anyway, we decided that enough was enough, and we took the cats off of self-feed. We have been tweaking how much she gets each day because we don’t want her to be too hungry, and we’re still working on it, but the weight is melting off of her. Here she is today, about three months into the program.

This photo is far less embarrassing than the first one. She looks less like she ate someone else’s cat.

So this is great. And I’ve been able to solve the mystery of weight loss. It’s not as complicated as you think. It’s all about planning.

Decide your menu for the day.  If you know ahead of time what you’re going to eat, you’re less likely to substitute something less healthy.

Divide your meals into containers. When it’s meal-time, all you have to do is grab the appropriate container.

Get support. When you start to reach for food not your own, it’s helpful if you have someone standing by to squirt you with a water bottle and stamp their foot on the floor. Also helpful? Shouting a firm “NO!” and a chasing you away with a broom.

Exercise. Three or four short sessions a day chasing a milk jug tab or fuzzy mouse does wonders. Catnip optional.

Snacking is okay. Divide one meal into smaller snacks by grazing a couple of times a day from one of your allotted meal containers. After a couple of minutes, have someone take it away. And hide it. In a cabinet you can smell but not reach.

Get plenty of rest. Four hour naps on the back of the couch or any patch of sun are encouraged.

Stay on top of personal grooming. It has nothing to do with weight-loss, but everything to do with how you feel about yourself. Bathe at least a few times a day. Clean is pretty, after all. Investing in hairball remedy is recommended.

Get a hobby. Some eating is more related to boredom than hunger, so keep yourself busy. Recommended activities include stare games, chasing laser lights, and staring condescendingly at the dog.

And there you have it. Follow my plan, and you have unlocked the key to weight-loss. Let me know how it goes for you. It’s working okay for me so far. And now, it’s time for my nap.