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Fluffy Bunnies posted:I am insufferable about this to the point of "Oh, you mean that cute mutt over there?" kind of poo poo. Husband thinks it's hilarious I get all angry about it so fast. I am super guilty of this too. In my daycare we have to write the dog's name and breed on the board and I always write "poodle x" when we have a doodle even though "labradoodle" is on all the paperwork. ![]() And, um... Shadow isn't on any flea/tick/heartworm preventative. ![]()
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# ? May 28, 2024 15:19 |
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Topoisomerase posted:
To be fair, I look at my own Boston Terrier and just laugh, sometimes. I kinda feel bad because he doesn't know why I'm laughing at him, but hey. If you don't want to get laughed at, you shouldn't have a stupid smooshed face, dog. ![]() Also, I bought him this little beehive soft toy, that has holes in it and squeaky bees that you put in it. I deliberately put his other toys in it, because he has to smash his entire face into a hole to try to grab a toy and pull it out, and the sight of him failing because of his face makes me laugh. ![]() edit: Vvv ahaha, a pain in the rear end to clean up, but sounds hilarious. ![]() Feldman already has destroyed one bee by tearing the wing off. For a little dog he's destructive as hell. We don't even put in treats. He just likes to chew the hell outta stuff. Deep Thoreau fucked around with this message at 06:54 on Dec 2, 2012 |
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Husker has that same toy and he also puts his whole face in it, but that's because he goes in for the treats and doesn't bother pulling the bees out. He's like an anteater. Unfortunately we're down a bee, because Murphy and Aslan each got hold of a wing and then tried to run away with it, and the poor little bee couldn't take it. Blue fluff all over my house.
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Topoisomerase posted:
Confession facts: After my ex obliterated My Dogs (and my house, livestock, independence, insert e/n here,) Punchy was the one that was left and the last thing I took from the whole situation. I was slowly beginning to realize poo poo was hosed and I was being emotionally abused when he informed me that pit bulls were so massively banned at the base we were moving to that Punchy would be seized and euthanized immediately if I were "so selfish" (his words) as to try and take him with us. He had eliminated all of my other dogs and ruined my life/credit, and then p much went for the kill by going after the last thing I had and the only thing I took out of the situation. Rehomed Punchy out of terror that he would be killed, and then said "oh my god I can never own a pit bull again, I lose all of the dogs, all of the dogs are gone forever, if I get a pit bull he will take it from me" and then in my crazy, decided that "well a boston terrier is like a sad companion stealth pit bull!!!" and was between that, and a Patterdale (whith a patterdale, at least I sort of had a functional dog.) Frankie just HAPPENED to appear when he did, shortly after I needlessly rehomed Punchy, and I got him because "maybe he won't take this dog away from me if it is not an actual pit bull." Basically, he always hated my dogs and the fact that I was a dog lady. He loved small dogs for no reason, but only as long as they didn't inconvenience him. The Puggle (Mikey) that PI got all mad about because I didn't want to keep? He brings this dog home, a year after losing my house and ruining my credit and taking all my dogs away, and says we're going to foster it. Whenever I try to rehome it he shits a brick. multiple fights are had about how I am a selfish bitch because I keep trying to take his dog away (lol oh my god) and then finally, it pissed on our cable box and shorted it out and SUDDENLY it was fine to rehome him. (Because he is a bad person!) Shortly after, I started the process of leaving- but yeah, Frankie is the result of being with a horrible person and me attempting to have something sort of like a pit bull, because if I owned an actual pit bull, he'd find a way to get rid of it. In the divorce, he tried to physically take Frankie. He slammed me against a door and I had to block him from leaving with him. Moses flipped out and got between us and got in his face and roared until he scared him into leaving. (omg incorrect, euthanize incorrect pit bull) That is how Frankie happened. pi facts ![]()
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![]() My confession, I am a-ok with rehoming for any reason, if the rehoming is done right, ie. the pet isn't dumped on the first schmuck to show interested. If someone wants to rehome (for any reason), then maybe the next home will be the pet's last home ![]()
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I am horrendously bad at the litterbox, especially when the semester gets ridiculous. I think the worst thing that I do to my kitties is let my roommate's dog pester them. I used to stop my roommate from telling the dog to chase them, but now I don't mind too much. They're never in any danger. The dog is just a bunch of bark without the follow-through.
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Forgive me PI, for I have sinned. I am not rescuing an abandoned cat. The other day, my husband and I went to a little breakfast place in the historic district. There was a badly made flyer on the front door (the restaurant is in a 100+ year old house) about a declawed cat that took up residence in the barn behind them, and how it must be a former pet, it's very friendly and fluffy and needed a forever home. For TWO DAYS now my husband has been bringing up that poor kitty, and how it needs a home, and how Kleng needs a big brother, and it's defenseless without claws and the rats in the barn probably bully him, and how the roof probably leaks and this storm is bringing 10 inches of rain.... And I am STILL saying No-Way-Jose. 3 cats is enough. We don't need to bring a disease filled stray with fleas into our happy harmonious home, and it probably bites since he has no claws. (But I also told him if he brought the cat home behind my back, I'd likely forgive him, but I still thought it was a bad idea.)
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We have an outdoor cat. He's probably a million years old and has no teeth. He showed up at the neighbors' house shortly before we moved in, and he was horribly emaciated and looked like he was going to drop dead any moment. I had thought he was their cat, but he's really just a stray they didn't chase off. They were already soaking kibble for an elderly indoor/outdoor cat. Sometimes they let him inside. He wouldn't stand a chance in a shelter, he would probably be euthed immediately for being ancient and toothless with god-knows-what health problems. I can't let him come in because my husband's cat hates other cats and is already stressed to hell and back living with two other cats and two dogs. We have a tiny house and no real way to isolate him. But I am a huge sucker for pathetic defective animals, so I started feeding him. Every morning he gets a big warm bowl of top-quality canned cat food mixed with hot water and kitten milk replacer. He might be a tad overweight by now. The first time he sneezed I rushed him to the vet for vaccinations and antibiotics. I put Frontline on him every month for the fleas. I made him an insulated cat house, but he won't use it. The first cold night this winter (California coast, not really that cold) we found him huddled in a cardboard box on the porch, so we ran an extension cord from the house and put an electric heating pad and a blanket in there with him. He's a pretty damned spoiled stray cat, but I still feel pretty bad for not letting him move in and be a spoiled house pet.
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I bought a muzzle to keep my dog from barking in the car. ![]() ![]()
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Uhm, let's see. I have definitely sinned. Here's something I have never stopped feeling bad about! Ok, so the dog my dad has which is the "family dog" in a sense is a Weimaraner named Freda. They are an extremely clingy breed and my she is really my dad's dog because he is her owner and he is the entire world to her. But I am second in the pecking order of humans she loves, even though I no longer live with her, so I usually have to take care of her when my dad is gone because she gets deeply depressed when he isn't around and unless I'm there to make her happy and walk her and whatnot she gets REALLY depressed. So anyway, quite a few years back I am doing this one summer weekend. This is when Freda was younger and I believe it was my very first time dogsitting her, and I was fairly concerned about this responsibility, and not hurting her, and whatever. I was into baseball at this point in time, and Freda was (and is) very much into chasing balls. So a very fun activity we had developed was going to the field with a big bucket of balls and a baseball bat, and I'd just toss balls in the air and hit them out as far as I could; I'd get some exercise and practice a bit of hitting, and Freda loved chasing the balls I hit and bringing them back. We had done this before with no issue at all, but this time it just so happened that Freda got a bit too excited after a while, and started to try and chase the ball before I hit it. I didn't realize she was doing this, and was very focused on my swing, which I went through with at full strength, hard as I could. And it just so happened that instead of connecting with the ball, the bat connected with Freda's face/nose/mouth. It made the most horrifying smacking sound as wooden bat connected with dog, followed by a sharp yelp and Freda clunking to the ground. I was horrified, but before I could even get down to check on her she had jumped up again, located the ball, and was happily romping around me again. Blood was dripping steadily from her lip where it got split, but she seemed fine otherwise, and the vet eventually concurred. But drat, it was scary. I never swung a bat in the presence of an excited dog again.
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Superconsndar posted:In the divorce, he tried to physically take Frankie. He slammed me against a door and I had to block him from leaving with him. Moses flipped out and got between us and got in his face and roared until he scared him into leaving. (omg incorrect, euthanize incorrect pit bull) Mad respect for Moses. Although he might just have been mad someone was trying to take his chew toy.
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kaworu posted:Uhm, let's see. I have definitely sinned. Here's something I have never stopped feeling bad about! That was 100% an accident and not your fault. But still, poor puppy. ![]()
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I got home from work at around 6 pm yesterday, and my nieces told me one of the henhoes was up on the avocado tree. Three of our henhoes were stray and still have that impulse to perch, and I don't know how the hen got on the tree in the first place since we trim their wings, but seeing how high up there she was, I said gently caress it, I'm tired of getting them off the tree, I just hope she lands on our yard in the morning. It rained last night, so it serves her right ![]()
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While I no longer live at home I'm super strict with my moms bulldog Chanel, no jumping no begging at the table, no barking, sitting down before being fed, the works. Once I step through the door there I turn into a drill sergeant. Meanwhile my cat Ozzzy has me wrapped around his little pink-padded paws. jumping on the counters and the tables, begging or stealing food (it's just so adorable). If it was up to me that cat could get away with murder. Sorry Chanel, you are just a little too hyperactive for my liking ![]() Ozzy does have the habit of walking in front of my feet as much as possible. So he occasionally gets punted and yelled at (because I nearly break my neck). And I don't feel bad about it.
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I'm scared of big dogs... my husband wants a lab. Ugh. I don't really actually LIKE dogs, but I love my Shih Tzu, Jadie. She is the sweetest dog in the world, and I can't sleep without her cuddled up with me. The kitty in my avatar (Scooter Bug) was my favorite. He's been gone almost 3 years, and I still miss him. I am also terrible at doing the litter boxes as often as I should. My two kitties don't care. A confession of my husband (he isn't on SA, but it's pet related): when he walks Jadie, he doesn't always use the pooper scooper and disposal bags.
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I have my horse pastured in barbed wire. The back fencline only has three strands up. I have the barbed wire, I have the come along, I have gloves and pliers but I have not yet hung that last strand. I am so lazy but gently caress it my horse is lazy too I guess since he's never indicated an interest in escape. I'll get to it.
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Ace is super crazy clingy with me and my boyfriend, and I don't really care to do anything about it. I worry that he has separation anxiety but he's used to being left alone and most of the time he's fine, unless he sees me getting into a car with my suitcase. Goddamn dog, I have been on like 2 vacations without you since you came into this world, can you please stop howling? Ace pretty much has no courage/ nerve at all and is scared of everything. I try to desensitize him to stuff but he's scared of so much so randomly that whenever he's melting down about something I'm just like "deal with it" and I wait for him to get over it. This works pretty well, he also doesn't seem to remember things like "yesterday soda cans were so terrifying I was hiding at the sight of them" the next day. He also has incredibly terrible recall. He knows what he's supposed to do, but for Ace coming when called is entirely optional. He'll stop what he's doing, look right at me, and then look away and go about his business. I'm not too concerned about this, because of the aforementioned cling. He may not come when called, but if I turn my back and start walking away he's right there. I've let him loose in large dog parks before and ran away from him and all he wants to do is follow me. I also walk Ace using the longest Flexi-lead they make. On the flipside of this, when we're not directly in our own front or back yard he's right on my heel but I see a lot of people rolling their eyes as they walk past, or if we pass someone on the sidewalk. Whatever jerks, he's got great leash manners still and sometimes I just wanna sit on the porch while he does business! Also, I refuse to do anything about my mother in law's dog except hope he dies soon. Pepe is a 19ish year old toy poodle, intact, not housebroken, and vicious. He pisses on goddamn everything, shits everywhere, and every bad dog habit there is he has. If you have food on your plate and you're downstairs or in the common areas, Pepe will be there barking his awful demon breath at you! Continue to not give him food and you run a good chance of getting mauled right when you stop paying any attention to the little fucker. The older he gets the more outrageous and unpredictable this gets, to the point where sometimes you'll be sitting around and you get mauled. One time, Ace was chilling at the top of the stairs and Pepe ran up. Ace chest-butted him and Pepe fell rear end over head all the way down the stairs. Instead of checking on Pepe I immediately started cackling with laughter and gave Ace a bunch of treats. drat dog was fine, though. I've made a few token attempts over the years to train Pepe, but my sister in law and mother in law constantly reinforce his poo poo because he weighs a pound and awww he's so cute! No he's not he's disgusting and covered in liver spots and scabs and his teeth all rotted and fell out and he reeks of poo poo and piss and garbage and death so even if he was a nice dog in personality I still wouldn't touch him. For a while, I was taking him outside on walks with Ace because when I'd bring Ace downstairs for his walk Pepe would get jealous that he's not going outside too. This worked out great for a while because I'd get Pepe out of the house for his business a few times a day, but then he pissed on Ace's face. I have not taken him out since.
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I yelled at Pistol the other day ![]() I'm secretly looking forward to when my fiancé takes Pistol with him to his next duty station in May. I kinda miss life with just me and Max. I don't mind having both of them around, but Max is definitely my favorite ![]() I've accidentally kicked Max more times than I care to admit, but that's his fault for curling up by my feet in front of the couch where I can't see him until I go to stand up and my foot comes in contact with something warm and fuzzy. The chinchillas haven't gotten to run around outside their cages in forever because I'm worried about the dogs trying to eat them. Plus Smokey is impossible to catch without multiple people tag-teaming him and it's just me here for the foreseeable future. At least they have big cages to bounce around in with nice big exercise wheels. Edit: Bash Ironfist posted:Also, I bought him this little beehive soft toy, that has holes in it and squeaky bees that you put in it. I deliberately put his other toys in it, because he has to smash his entire face into a hole to try to grab a toy and pull it out, and the sight of him failing because of his face makes me laugh. Max and Pistol also have the beehive toy. Pistol's preferred method of getting the squeaky bees out is using centripetal force. He'll whip the hive around with such force that the bees pop out the holes. Either that, or he'll wait for Max to get them out then steal the bees from Max. Problem! fucked around with this message at 23:51 on Dec 2, 2012 |
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Tristesse posted:Also, I refuse to do anything about my mother in law's dog except hope he dies soon. I feel the same way about my bf's old lovely Jack Russell Terrier who lives with us, complete with the couple of tries at training her but having her poo poo still be reinforced by my bf and having him go get a shock collar and use it incorrectly for her barking and poo poo despite me saying it won't work and then at least trying to teach him how to properly use one if he's going to use it. So basically gently caress it hopefully she doesn't live too much longer.
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My in-laws wanted to breed their English mastiff to their tiny little Labrador, but every time he tried to mount her, she couldn't take his weight and snapped at him. I eventually took pity on her and whenever my parents weren't watching, I'd shove him off with my foot, sometimes not at all gently. Sorry Boomer, I know it's just nature dictating your actions, but no means no. My cat hates
I also am bad at changing the cat litter. Sometimes we forget until there's nothing but a solid lump of poo poo and piss-litter near the front where they always go. ![]()
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Oh yeah and Ace gets kicked in the head pretty much constantly on accident because he's always always always inches away from my feet at all times and he MUST WALK BETWEEN YOUR LEGS SOMETIMES HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING? So basically if I try to turn or change direction at any point and I'm not paying enough attention he tends to get kicked. Most of the time I stop and cradle him and pet his face and check and make sure my poor precious dumb puppy is alright but goddamn he always is and I'm pretty sure that's exactly why he gets in the way so often... So sometimes I yell at him instead because it makes me mad. He never understands so I always stop and cuddle him back to happiness but goddamn dog.
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I drop popcorn on my blind dog's back. Sometimes he doesn't notice for a couple of minutes and I mock him. ![]()
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I have puppy fever again.
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I feed my parent's obese chihuahua food off my plate and treats in between freaking out at them about his weight. He's already too fat to live, what's one more turd on poo poo mountain?
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My dogs have only ever been on heartgard for 6 months, ever. I never use Frontline, and I'm almost a year behind on their yearly vaccines ![]() Thor is the only dog I have ever ever considered getting debarked because he never shuts up. Ever. I'll never actually do it, but sometimes when's he's being a whiny yappy douche I tell him I hate him and hopes he chokes on his tongue ![]() I sort of encourage Loki's fear of thunder/loud noises because he becomes a super snuggly velcro dog ![]() I haven't trained them to do anything except to sit and have decent recall. They're loud, obnoxious dogs who barkbarkbark and bounce around when people come over. Thor has the shittiest leash manners, but it doesn't matter cause I don't hardly ever walk them anyway! We do a lot of indoor activities instead. Loki is kind of fat and I don't bother to do anything about it because ![]()
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My husband and I could have given a home to a set of slightly less desirable and therefore harder to place cats, but instead we got two 4 month old kittens that won our hearts over. The foster people didn't even bother listing the kittens on PetFinder because they knew how quickly they'd be adopted. One of the older cats we were looking at is still at the foster, and has since been separated from his brother because he was a bully. Our house is big enough that they would rarely have had to interact. I know the bully-cat is not in danger of being put down, but I feel bad every time I think of him. I also never brush my cats' teeth and don't brush their coats nearly enough.
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I don't take any of our three dogs for walks; they are all leashed trained, but the old Rott Jess forgets she is the second her leash is on her. My excuse in the summer was that it was still 100* come 8pm. My excuse in the winter is that it gets dark at 6pm. Spyder the German Shepherd is a rescue who was abused and starved, and she is so loving clingy it makes me insane. If she can't see you, she assumes you've abandoned her, which has led to no shortages of her running amok and smashing into walls to find you if she wakes from a nap and you're not there. She also wants you to stand and pet her while she eats her dinner but then doesn't want you to touch her, then wants you to pet her only here and here when she eats. Loki is another rescue, a chi-mix, who forgets she is housebroken every time she comes in the house. I bought way too many bettas at the last Petsmart sale and have two of them in small Kritter Keepers until I can get another wrought iron stand to set up a divided 10 gallon for them. I only clean the litterboxes once a day and they could probably use it once more. Our blue tongue skink Jackie is in a 40 breeder tank. It is too small for her and has been for a bit. Tomorrow I plan to break down her tank, and do a ton of rearrangement: her new cage will be the custom-built for a green iguana cage I got from a vet, that houses our ball and het albino ball python. They will go from this huge cage to another 40 breeder, and the snakes in THAT 40 breeder will go into Jackie's old cage. And perhaps the worst, some of my snakes live together. Alien, Ripley, and Mouse are a trio of balls we got about ten years ago and they have been together since then. If we separate them out, they don't eat. So their tank has several basking/night light spots and hiding places. I also have a group of year-old Kenyan sand boa babies (4 total) in a 20 long. And then there are the other balls, the albino male Drac, the het albino female Vanna Hellsing, and the spider female Crackle who live in the huge custom cage built to house an adult male iggie. Forgive me, PI, for I sinned and caved and told my mom to get the snake she really wanted at the Tucson herp show, a great looking albino female ball named Luna. I thought my mom knew what Luna's diet was previously, but apparently she didn't ask, or asked and forgot. Luna doesn't want rats or mice, live or prekilled, and hasn't eaten save for one mouse when we first got her. Though in separate cages and rooms, I've noticed her and Drac going gaga crazy active at night, but I know she can't be in breeding mode this time of year.
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Cowslips Warren posted:I don't take any of our three dogs for walks I'm going to join the bunch of you who judge people by the dogs they own. I'm incredibly judgmental of people who own brachycephalic breeds or pretty much any other breed with exaggerated physical traits like chondrodysplasia, extremes in size bad enough to cause problems (dogs that are prone to random bouts of hypoglycemia, why the gently caress would you want one?) etc. If you believe a ridge is essential for a Rhodesian Ridgeback and ridgeless dogs shouldn't be bred from, I'll burst out laughing. I can understand moderate Boxers for example (with regards to their faces, not the fact that they all die of cancer at a young age), but the extreme brachycephalics just make me angry. Our neighbor has an English Bulldog that I thought was ancient because he moves so badly it hurts to look at him and you can hear his breathing from a block away. The dog is two years old and they're going to get another EB in the summer because of ~*the breed's wonderful personality*~ Lady, I don't think you know anything about your dog's personality because he's physically unable to express it!!
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A lot of poultry shows are held in large metal buildings that trap and magnify sound really well, chickens when startled/angry/happy/whatever will cackle and squawk and make really annoying sounds until they calm down, if there are two they will both start and if there are 1200 they will all start. Sometimes when I get bored of all the racist old chicken people at a show I will sneak into a back corner and start fake cackling just to make all the birds start. I think a thousand cackling chickens in a giant metal box is hilarious,most people get annoyed and go outside.
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Mostly because we have a large backyard and the dogs are always leaping over the ponywall that parts their 'side' from the tortoise side. Since they never bother the tortoises they have free range over both areas. When I did take Spyder out on walks, she tended to freeze up and would constantly try to walk behind me, leading to a great amount of trips. She used to be a stray in addition to being in an abusive previous home, so I don't know if going out reminds her of that time, but she doesn't seem to miss going out. Loki liked walks, but she far prefers being in the cat pack (when she is supervised inside). Holy crap I've never seen a dog act like a cat so much; she plays with their toys, she chases them, they chase her, she is leaping up and off the couches and eventually exhausts herself. Oh, and she bosses Spyder around so they are always running around the yard. And none of the dogs will wear dog booties; Spyder and Jess freak out when we clip their nails, and tear off any booties we put on; hot cement burns the gently caress out of feet and I don't want to have them suffer in the heat.
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Since I've been moving and preparing to move for about a week, neither of the dogs have been walked or gotten like any attention except "here, food, now go lay down." Moses is turning into a massive turd and I keep yelling at him for trying to find things to do. He doesn't get destructive, he just stops listening and is all "haha you haven't walked me in three days, gently caress YOU" when I yell at him for the 100th time not to move or breathe or have a thought because he is in the way. I finally caved and stopped what I was doing to let him do some springpole last night but I could only sit around flatly repeating "good dog get it. good dog get it" for him for so long before I had to pack more poo poo. So far we have had two Frankie fights, one completely ignored recall, several ignored "leave it's" at the puppy, and one puppy face mauling. (The puppy is bigger than him now, and was happy about it.) You'd think I would like, stop packing and take my dog for a bike ride but NOPE GOTTA PACK AND YELL AT THE DOG FOR GOING STIR CRAZY. Today after work I'm taking him with me while I make runs to the new house, I'll put some poo poo in bags for him to carry and it'll be like he's helping and maybe he'll go lay the gently caress down for a few hours after that. edit: cant spell @ 6am Supercondescending fucked around with this message at 12:51 on Dec 3, 2012 |
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Tim the Enchanter posted:A lot of poultry shows are held in large metal buildings that trap and magnify sound really well, chickens when startled/angry/happy/whatever will cackle and squawk and make really annoying sounds until they calm down, if there are two they will both start and if there are 1200 they will all start. Sometimes when I get bored of all the racist old chicken people at a show I will sneak into a back corner and start fake cackling just to make all the birds start. I think a thousand cackling chickens in a giant metal box is hilarious,most people get annoyed and go outside. So basically you're like this guy who gobbles at turkeys? http://youtu.be/b1UATVEnFog Awesome.
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My brother-in-law and ex-step-father-in-law participate in cock fights, and I have not called the cops. I justify it by telling myself I don't know the address(es) of where they happen.
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Rixatrix posted:I'm going to join the bunch of you who judge people by the dogs they own. I'm incredibly judgmental of people who own brachycephalic breeds or pretty much any other breed with exaggerated physical traits like chondrodysplasia, extremes in size bad enough to cause problems (dogs that are prone to random bouts of hypoglycemia, why the gently caress would you want one?) etc. If you believe a ridge is essential for a Rhodesian Ridgeback and ridgeless dogs shouldn't be bred from, I'll burst out laughing. My dog freaks out at brachycephalic breeds almost exclusively. I think it's kind of funny, so I haven't made any attempt to curb it.
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My kitten Heidi had a solitary white whisker for a few months, which I didn't like. I kept teasing her about it, saying she was lop sided, made her look stupid, etc. It's since fallen out, the replacement is black and now I really miss it. If I know I'm about to let off a huge fart, I find my nearest pet and let it rip in front of their face. Especially if they're sleeping. I sometimes mix a more high quality pet food with crap supermarket brand food to make the higher quality stuff last longer and save money. Some neighbours think my mother's shih-tzu is genuinely called Thickshit because of me. I could've got an 18 month white cat with blue eyes for nothing but because I'm not fond of white cats, I got Heidi the kitten instead.
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Engineer Lenk posted:My dog freaks out at brachycephalic breeds almost exclusively. I think it's kind of funny, so I haven't made any attempt to curb it. I wasn't home for this so it's secondhand info, but apparently when a friend of my SO brought his pug over our house on his way back from a holiday, my normally very dog-friendly and well-socialized Bengal cat took a great deal of offense to the existence of this obvious freak of nature and took one look at the pug, hissed and spit at it and stalked off into the other room. I wish I would have been there for it. I may have rewarded it if I were. Topoisomerase fucked around with this message at 21:20 on Dec 3, 2012 |
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I don't empty the litter box regularly. I suck at it. The one in the living room drawer I change, because I can watch TV while I do it, but he uses the one in the hall more then the one in the living room. Which means I don't have the effort to change it as often as I should. Honestly, I'm considering removing the one in the hall all together because I just don't want to bother with it. Batman doesn't seem to care much though. I'm pretty sweet to him otherwise, but I laugh when my fiancé lifts him up and does silly things. Batman is just so docile and accepting of everything!
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I'm allowing my cats to eat 9lives. Because my dad bought a giant friggin bag of it x.x. It is however being supplemented with Wilderness. Dad is wondering why the cat box smells so much stronger nowadays. edit: And apparently the rabbit learned to eat chocolates somewhere?! She's probably going to die a horrible death now, having eaten that reeses cup I left out on the bed. Yay. Suspect Bucket fucked around with this message at 01:05 on Dec 4, 2012 |
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benjai posted:I don't empty the litter box regularly. I suck at it. The one in the living room drawer I change, because I can watch TV while I do it, but he uses the one in the hall more then the one in the living room. Which means I don't have the effort to change it as often as I should. Honestly, I'm considering removing the one in the hall all together because I just don't want to bother with it. I know this is the confession thread and I really don't mean to be all PI catlady on you but I would not remove the litterbox the cat uses more often just because it's inconvenient for you to clean it. Once a cat develops a preference, they can be total spergs about that preference and then if he were to develop inconsistent litterbox habits based on its removal that could set you all up for a really tough time trying to get him to go in the box again. Basically if it ain't broke don't fix it. If he doesn't care that you don't scoop it that often whatever. ![]()
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# ? May 28, 2024 15:19 |
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This is the greatest and most terrible secret of my childhood. It has haunted me my entire life. Every time I think about what I did I hate myself for it. And now, I confess my sins for absolution through the cat ladies of Pet Island. Here goes something. When I was very young, before I started school, I killed a kitten. Not even sure where we got him anymore, but he was a little orange kitten, cute as could be, and I caused him to die a slow, horrific death, terrified of curious toddlers. I threw him off my grandmother's front porch to watch him land on his feet. Repeatedly. Even after my grandmother told me to stop, I didn't. I just kept catching him while he was shocked from falling six feet and dragging him back up to the top to do it again. I found him curled up on my grandmother's porch the next morning, still warm but very much dead. I was sad, but didn't understand that it was my fault until years later. I'm so sorry, little orange kitty. I wish things had been different.
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