Wednesday's Question Of The Day: Most Expensive Purchase

Wednesday's Question Of The Day: 

Most Expensive Purchase

Hump day? Well, I'll give you something to ponder.

Yes, it's time for Wednesday's Question Of The Day.

Each Wednesday, a new question to give you the opportunity to do a bit of self-examination.  Think of it as a way of getting to know all about you and a chance to learn a little more about me. 

That's right. You know me; spill that tea! For I am the king of over-sharing!

Oh, and please leave your responses in the comments section. 

Why, think of this as a little blogging kiki!

Okay! Ready, set... 

Here's today's question:

Aside from real estate or a vehicle, 

what’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever purchased?

So, I am not one of those people who consider animals property.

But the health of two of them? 

The most expensive thing I've ever purchased.

In a way, it was purchasing life - for them. They were brought into mine and I felt I owed it to them to be the best owner I could possibly be. So, when the chips were down and it was make or break time... my commitment didn't waver because of the price tag attached.

Did I do the right thing?

Yes.

One is still with me. Mama Rose. Her vet bills, when all was said and done, exceeded $4,000. 

She's the tiny mama cat who came walking down a tree branch as we were rescuing her kittens. They were all so skinny. And you could tell by the way she sauntered over to the kennel where two of her kittens were waiting that she was ready to surrender. I believe Mama was a feral kitten who got pregnant way too young. Providing nourishment for her four kittens took a toll on her health.  

Shortly after the kittens had been adopted, in December, she became quite ill and required hospitalization. It became very expensive, very quickly, but I felt I couldn't deny her a chance at a good life. Fortunately, it all turned out well and she got to come home with us once her kidney levels returned to normal. She only has one good kidney which is running at 10% - just enough to ensure a good life. Because of the expense involved - and the possibility that there may come a time when we have to do it all again - we felt we couldn't adopt her out. It was a possible financial burden that I didn't entrust to anyone else. 

She's a love. And I wouldn't trade her for all the money in the world. 

And then there was Beau, my first pup, a little Chihuahua who gave my life purpose when such a focus was needed. I spotted him in front of a Menards - cutest thing I'd ever seen. I told them I was going to go into the store, make a couple of purchases and would be back. However, when I got back, an older woman who'd recently lost her dog, wanted him. I gave her my phone number in case things didn't work out. They didn't. I got the call and went and picked him up. When I climbed into my Bronco, I set him on my lap and told him that he never had to worry about anything, that I would always take care of him. 

We began vet care. During the deworming process, something odd began to occur; he would walk backwards. He couldn't control it. He'd have such a look of panic on his face. Then he would have a seizure. It was heartbreaking. The second time it happened, I called my Mom, who was living 45 minutes away, and asked her to help me get him to a vet. The original vet said there was nothing they could do and suggested we go to the U of M. $5,000 later, we still had no idea what was wrong with my little guy. He had one more episode. And then... grew out of it. 

I adored him. Took him everywhere I could. He was a love. He had issues with his legs and, at the age of sixteen, eventually twisted his back so badly that we had no choice but to put him down. It broke my heart. But we did have sixteen good years. 

And... I would do it all again.

Will, I guess. 

Money doesn't mean much to me. I mean, yes, you need to cover the basics, but the rest? I never want. And I have no needs. And, yes, there are those who would say there are probably better ways that money could be spent. 

But not in my eyes. 

People do it for their children all the time. 

And I take pet ownership that seriously. 

I understand that not everybody can... but, at the very least, they should want to.

--- ---

Cats And Dogs - The Head and The Heart

Weekend Onesie: STFU, Uptonking

Weekend Onesie: STFU, Uptonking

The question posed was... "Do you want your life?"

My response was: "Don't you threaten me."

And his reply was: "Do you want your life?"

As he sped away, I was physically shaking and wondering...

When did it come to this?

Just over two years ago, when the Covid-19 pandemic began to be taken seriously and I began to work from home, I took the opportunity to enrich not only my life, but that of my 13 year-old dog, Hercules, by taking him on a daily walk before heading over to The Boyfriend's house to work out and check on the cats. 

It was a win/win. Hercules got some much needed stimulation and exercise, while I got to check out the neighborhood and get some fresh air.

At the same time, our radical city council decided that they had heard enough complaints from their constituents and that it was time to do something about all the cars speeding through residential neighborhoods, endangering the lives of pedestrians and children playing. 

They lowered the speed limit to 20 mph. 

Signs began to appear everywhere: '20 Is Plenty.'

It seems the members of the Minneapolis City Council believed that the way to get people who were driving 40 and 45 miles an hour through residential streets where the speed limit was posted at 30 was to lower that speed limit to 20. 

But you know what happened instead?

People got pissed off. And now, instead of going a mere 10 miles an hour over the speed limit, they decided to go 30 miles an hour over the speed limit. It was their way of saying, 'you're not going to tell me what to do.'

Now, about this same time, George Floyd was killed over in South Minneapolis. The council acted swiftly: 'Defund The Police' became their new battle cry. All the resulting turmoil led to a mass exodus from the MPD. Some retired early. Some simple walked off the job. Suddenly, we have 300 plus less officers patrolling our neighborhoods.

This meant we now had new laws, but no one to enforce them. 

So? No police presence. Check. Angry people who do not give a fuck. Check. 

Growing up, I was taught, if you see something - say something - do something. So, when I see people racing down the street while walking my dog, I yell at them, "Slow down!"

Most ignore it. And for the longest time, that is the way things remained. 

But I must have gotten a taste for playing neighborhood traffic monitor, for, before I knew it, if I saw speeder, and I was driving (the speed limit, because, it turns out I like driving 20 mph,) I'd give my horn a little tap. And if they ran a stop sign? Why, I'd lay on that horn a little harder. 

Sometimes I'd get a response. Words I don't like to type, but for the sake of this post, I will. 

Hercules and I pass through two crosswalks where there are stop signs posted. I can't tell you the number of times a car would be approaching as Herc and I would be stepping into the street, only for me to have to rapidly yank Hercules, who typically walks a few feet ahead of me, back to the curb because  - turns out that car was not interested in doing the right thing.

I began to say something to those people as well. Only, I never yelled it, I would simply speak it. "You had a stop sign."

About three weeks ago, it was a nice day, a man, with his car windows rolled down, decides not to stop, and I yank Hercules back to the curb. He turns to the left and as he does, I say, in a normal speaking voice, "You had a stop sign." 

He stops. 

"What did you say?"

I repeat what I had just said.

"I did. I did stop."

"No. No, you didn't. You almost hit my dog."

"Fuck you."

"Just stop at the stop sign next time, okay."

"You want your life?"

And time stands still. 

This is about stopping at a stop sign. That seems like a bit of an over reaction. I decide, 'this is ridiculous.'

"Don't you threaten me."

He begins to speed away, and yells, again... "Do you want your life?"

I immediately think of the baseball coach who lost his life in a road rage a year ago because he tapped on his horn when an SUV began to drift into his lane. The driver of that SUV pulled out a gun and killed the man, point blank. The driver of the SUV was just convicted of first degree murder and is awaiting sentencing. 

When I tell The Ex and my mother about the incident, their reactions do not surprise me. 

"You have to keep your mouth shut!"

My work wife agrees. 

And so, I try. 

But there I am at a neighborhood intersection. My direction has no stop signs, but those that cross it from the other way do. I am halfway in the intersection and a couple step off the curb to cross in front of me, so I wait. I don't inch forward, that's rude. I wait. A car approaches to my right. They have a stop sign. He pauses, sort of, but then moves to continue. The people are in the middle of the walkway. I am in the middle of the intersection. I tap my horn and indicate that I am waiting. He looks at me quizzically. "You have a stop sign," I say. 

The couple has reached the other side and I move through the intersection.

The car that I honked my horn at follows me. I pull over and he sidles up to me. He is super angry. Calling me every name in the book. I raise my palms to the sky, as if to say, 'what is the big deal?' 

He drives away.

Two days later, I am in my car, in front of The Boyfriend's house, just pulling away from the curve. His house is only three houses down from the corner. This same vehicle whips around that corner, onto the street I'm driving on. As he passes, I say, out my open car window, "Slow down!" 

I drive to the corner. Come to a full stop. Make a right turn, travel the length of the block and come to another stop sign. I come to a full stop. I turn right, heading for home. Here, barreling toward me, is that same little white car. I'm going about 18 mph when he pulls up beside me and screams, "fuck you, you fucking bitch..."

I don't stop. As I drive past him I say, "Just slow down."

Fortunately, he doesn't do an illegal U-turn and follow me. 

As I write this, I realize, any one of these scenarios could have ended very badly... for me. For my loved ones. 

So, I am going to take the advice I have been given. 

I am going to STFU. 

Because I realized: I am not the neighborhood traffic monitor. And people who have so little regard for the rules and the safety of others, have no regard for my life. To them? My life means nothing. 

So?

Do I want my life?

Yes.

Yes, I would like to keep my life, thank you very much.

Silence Is Golden - The Tremeloes

Weekend Onesie: Which Way You Going, Billy?

Weekend Onesie: 

Which Way You Going, Billy?

I had to say good-bye to one of my dearest friends last week. 

Billy was a Boston Terrier who came into my life because a co-worker was relocating to our Taiwan office and his ex-wife wouldn't take his two dogs. He knew I was a soft touch, so he asked me if I would take them. At the time, I already had two dogs, so I could only take on one. I asked my Mom, who had Pepper, an anxiety-ridden Jack Russell Terrier, if she would take on the other. 

Billy and his older brother, Atula, had been routinely kept in their kennels for up to 12 hours a day. The man who owned them? Not someone who should have been a pet owner. So, both dogs ended up having major issues. Atula had a number of underlying health conditions which resulted in behavioral and physical issues, so my partner and I took him on. 

It would turn out that Billy also had a number of issues. He was overly aggressive and badly socialized. He would also bite people, a rare trait for a Boston Terrier. My mother, along with my partner and I, all worked with him. 

We eventually discovered he was one of the sweetest, funniest, kindest animals with the biggest of hearts. He had this Ernest Borgnine way about him, blessed with an adorable bottom-toothed smile.

Last Friday, I was getting ready to go to the prairie when my ex knocked on my door. Billy had jumped off one of my mother's decks (only a foot high) and had broken his leg. I did not react well. It was a beautiful day and I had been looking forward to getting to the prairie, so I was pissed that life and circumstances had once again conspired to ruin my alone time.

All that anger evaporated once I arrived on scene. My mother was seated at the dining room table, still in her nightgown. She'd just gotten up to let the dogs out. Fortunately, she always watches them so she saw the incident happen. She was crying. Billy was already muzzled and looking sad. 

When people I love cry? I just start giving orders. My mother kept saying it was all her fault and I nicely explained that there was no way that she could have prevented this. Sometimes bad things just happen. 

The ex was outside, pacing and yelling at his phone. Billy's regular vet refused to see him and the emergency clinic was closed. He was getting a list of alternative places to try, but most of them were many, many miles away. I suggested the Broadway clinic. Billy's regular vet had refused at one point to give him a dental, so my mother took him there. Fortunately they agreed to see him. 

At this point, the ex continues to talk on the phone while I am desperate to get going. He keeps saying that the situation is not good and that Billy will have to be put down. My brain refuses to consider that. We don't even know what the situation is yet.

 Again, I start giving marching orders. I take Billy from my mother and tell her to go get dressed and meet us at the clinic. The ex is arguing with me about taking my car, but I already have it parked in front of my mother's house so I simply keep telling  him to get in the car and hold Billy while I drive. The ex tries to tell me how to drive and where to drive, but I'm not taking the bait... I just want to get to the clinic. 

Once there, we need masks and our vaccination record. The ex has neither. I have extra masks in the car, but without his vaccination record, he still can't come in. So, it's on me. 

They are super nice. I, of course, want immediate attention, but there is only one vet on duty, so Billy and I sit in a room. I fear he's in pain, so I keep talking to him to distract him, telling him what a good boy he is - and he is; he's being very still and quiet. My mother mentioned that she thought he was in shock, and that is what I fear now. 

The vet comes in. He's a very elderly gentleman and is very calm. The neighborhood his clinic is in is not very safe and he approaches me like I might yell at him. There is even a sign that says, "If you yell at our staff, you will be told to leave." The vet is very nice. 

My mother arrives and is ushered in. She's a mess, still crying. The vet tries to look at Billy's leg and, for the first time, Billy let's out a cry of pain. The vet barely touched it. He shows us a drawing of a dog's front leg and explains the likely break Billy has experienced. There is this small spur that fits in a hole of the elbow bone. The vet believes this has snapped off. 

We learn that Billy would have to be put under anesthesia in order to even x-ray the leg, let alone set it in a cast. We explain that can't happen. He's only 12 years old (they have a typical life span of 14), but he has a stage four heart murmur. His regular vet told us that Billy would not survive being put under anesthesia after his last dental, so that was not happening. 

My mother pressed for alternatives. The vet said he could be kept in a kennel for five months in the hope that the leg would form, but even if it did, it would be unusable. I told my mother that wasn't happening. Neither of us was in a position to take care of a dog under those conditions for that length of time and I thought the idea cruel. 

The vet left us to make a decision. And there really was only one answer. My mother had a hard time accepting it. I rubbed her back and explained the situation. With the facts acknowledged, we called the vet back in. Billy would have to be put down.

Then there was the matter of what to do with his remains. I always allow them to cremate, but my mother wanted to take Billy home and bury him in the backyard. The vet steps away as we discuss. I want to argue for cremation - it's simple, but my mother is in such a state I decide that it's best to simply do as she wishes.

The vet returns and Billy's given something to help him sleep.

It's a sad process. It never gets easier, no matter how many times I go through it. I stayed near Billy's face and talk to him as the pain med they gave him took affect, telling him over and over again what a good boy he was and how much he is loved. 

And how sorry I am. I am very, very sorry.

Despite his muzzle, he gave me one last bottom-toothed smile. It broke my heart, but at least I knew that he wasn't in pain anymore. The vet returned and gave him the final shot; the one that would stop his over-sized heart from beating. I talk to him the entire time. I never want to let them go without letting them know how much they are loved. 

We wrap Billy in his blanket and my mother sits in the passenger seat of my car, holding him. The ex drives her car. It's surreal. When we arrive at her house, I hold Billy - who I know is no longer bound in that blanket or trapped in that body. The ex digs a hole and I lay him in it. My sister, who is a year younger than me, has arrived from up north. That's a comfort. She'll spend the day with my mother. 

In the coming days, being at my Mom's house is all kinds of odd. Billy is not there to bring me one of his many bones or one of his blankets. He's not there to give kisses or sit on my lap. And there's no smiles to be had. 

Pepper, his companion, is very quiet and sad. She initially refuses to eat, but that passes with time. I give her extra attention. It helps.

The house seems so quiet and empty without him. That's the way with someone with such a big personality - they take up a lot of room. 

Later, my mother apologizes to me for some of the things she said. And, of course, I have to apologize to the ex for how I behaved, too. It seems that as I grow older, I am able to handle a crisis less and less.      

I do go to the prairie that day. And I'm glad I went. I read and walk around. It all serves as a good distraction. But one inescapable truth remains...

I sure loved that dog.

Which Way You Going, Billy?

The Poppy Family

Wonderland Burlesque's For Pet's Sake Quiz

Wonderland Burlesque's 

For Pet's Sake Quiz

They come into our lives and add so much pleasure. And even though we know it's not to last forever, we give them our hearts. 

No, I'm not talking about that trick you just met in the woods or down by the docks... I am talking about pets. 

Cats, dogs, hamsters, gerbils, exotic birds... what have you. And that's what I'd like you to talk about today; those little companions who grace and have graced our lives, giving more than we have any right to expect. 

Oh, and by the way... as cat's only have nine lives? So, too, this quiz has only nine questions!

1/ Are you an 'animal' person?

Yes. And I always will be, though, I must say, I am evolving a bit. There for a time, I would take on any challenge, but as I start eying retirement, with my goal of travelling in mind, I am becoming much more conscious of the commitment being made when taking on a new family member and the fairness of the situation. 

It's not like I will be travelling 24/7. Not at all. But at the same time, I don't feel it would be fair to take on additional animals at this time. 

First, I don't want to be an absent owner. I find that sort of behavior irresponsible. If you make a commitment to care for an animal - you should make choices with your life where that animal is included as a priority, not simply a passing consideration. You have to be present in that animal's life. I'm always shocked at how selfish and blind people are when it comes to pets. If you ignore them, they act out. So, if your pet has behavior issues and you can't figure out why? Look in the mirror, dear. Most issues can be resolved if one simply honors the commitment made when you took the little fella into your home. Spending quality time with an animal? That's part of that commitment. And that's also, typically, an easy solution to any behavioral issues that spring up. 

Which is why, as I look to travel more, I know that there may be a time period when pet ownership is not something I can afford - emotionally or ethically. 

2/ What was your first pet and what was it's name? How old were you?

Back on the farm, I know we had  two different dogs when I was just a wee thing. I don't remember what happened to the one, but the other - a neighboring farmer hated and that a-hole eventually ran him over with his truck. 

Enter Lady - a basset/beagle mix. I was three or four years old. 

The sweetest, kindest dog, Lady had a great personality. When we moved into town, we had neighbors to the right of us; an older married couple, immigrants from Czechoslovakia, who were very nice to us, but they loved our dog. As time progressed, we noticed Lady putting on excessive weight, eventually learning that when the kindly couple had lunch or dinner, they always made an extra portion for Lady! 

Lady taught me what pet ownership was about.

By the time I was a senior in high school, Lady was quite elderly and couldn't climb stairs. She would cry at night at the bottom of the stairs until I went down and got her and she would spend the night in my room. She was terrified of thunder, so I spent many nights under my bed holding her, letting her know it would be alright. 

I went off to college and never really made sure that my two sisters or mother were aware of everything Lady needed. 

When I came home for Xmas break, I noticed that all the rugs which populated various corners of rooms in the house were missing. I asked. Lady had passed away in late October. My mom just forgot to tell me. So, I never got to say good-bye. 

She was a wonderful dog.

3/ In your lifetime, how many pets have you had?

Not counting the cats at The Boyfriend's - one cat, seven dogs. Because I was so involved in theatre all those years? I could not have a pet. I was never home, and having a pet and living that life? Not compatible. And after that I was travelling quite a bit. It was only when recovering from my illness and returning to Minnesota that I took on being a pet owner. I knew it would ground me, and I needed stability at that time. 

That's when Beau, my first Chihuahua came into my life. He gave me purpose and focus. I owe him so much.

4/ Have you ever adopted a pet from the pound, a rescue organization, or a shelter?

Oddly, of the six dogs that I have had since 1998, only one came directly from such a place. 

Beau was found at a Menards lumber store.

Paco (Chihuahua #2) was just a pup and about to be euthanized because the owner, a waitress The Ex used to work with, was having a baby and moving to Sweden and hadn't bothered getting proper papers for the dog to travel - and came to the realization that she couldn't take the dog with her, so she was just going to put him down. So, hearing this, The Ex and I swooped in. 

He was the cutest thing ever. 

Mona's owner married and had a baby with a man who hated her dog - a lovely, rather rare, 'deer' Chihuahua. The man used to kick her and had injured her quite badly. She was only with us a short time (six months). I am still unclear exactly why she passed away - it was a blur of vet visits and medications. It was all very sad, and we did everything we could to save her. She remains the most beautiful dog I have ever seen. 

Atula. The Hun. He was this terrible Boston terrier. Just a monster. I adored him so much. His yowl had to be heard to be appreciated. He was quite elderly when he came into our lives. A co-worker was moving to work in Taiwan and he knew I had taken in animals in the past, so he pressured me to take on both his Boston terriers. My mom took the younger of the two, Billie. And The Ex and I took on Atula - who had some medical and behavioral issues. Turns out most of the problems stemmed from the fact that this man had two dogs and no time. They spent up to 16 hours a day in their kennels. He also lived in apartment, so no yard. He was divorced and hung onto the dogs so his kids would come visit. Both animals were very screwed up. Watching Atula navigate our fenced-in backyard for the first time?  As heartbreaking as it was hilarious. He had these big bug-eyes and was terrified of the grass. He warmed up to it quickly, though. His final two years were as best as we could make them. He seemed very happy.

Millie, whose story I shared in a relatively recent post, was a tea-cup Chihuahua my second youngest sister rescued from people who truly had no idea what pet ownership means - and I'll leave it at that. I simply adored her. 

Which brings us to Hercules... the only dog I have ever acquired through a 'rescue' organization.

5/ Who currently resides at your house? How old? How did you acquire them?

Hercules. After Beau passed away, I got a phone call at work from the The Ex - "I found a dog who looks just like Beau. We have to go get him." Now, I know this is not a good idea - dogs are not interchangeable and you can't 'replace' one with another, but The Ex knew I was heartbroken when Beau died, and this was his way of 'fixing' things. So, I protested, but acquiesced. 

Hercules was at a foster home as part of this dog rescue organization. We get there. The woman has far too many dogs given her tiny house and miniscule yard. Hercules? Looks nothing like Beau (of course) and is, in fact, four times larger than Beau. I look at The Ex like... 'what have you done.' But by then, I knew it was too late... Hercules was our responsibility. Period. If nothing else, he had to be taken out of that home. 

Here's everything we learned after adopting Hercules: he'd been hit on the head with a hammer repeatedly and had suffered a bit of brain damage (he's a sweetie, but not a bright bulb). A child poked out one of his eyes with a ball point pen and the org couldn't afford the surgery required to save the eye. No, that fell to us. Two surgeries and $6 K later, turns out they'd waited too long, and we could not save the eye, so Herc has a glass one, which isn't fooling anybody, but The Ex didn't want the other dogs (?) (Millie, our only pup at the time, was blind.) to make fun of him. 

Herc is a love. During the pandemic, I began walking him daily. It doesn't take long and it's good for both of us. He barks too much and is afraid of everything, but such a sweetie. 

6/ Of course, the ones currently with you are your favorites, but is there one from your past you miss the most?

I do miss them all. I sometimes stare at the backyard and imagine them all there at once. 

I would be hard pressed to pick one, but if I had to? Beau. He was my light. I owe him my life. 

7/ Do you have friends or family members with pets that you adore? What are they, how old and what is/are their name(s)?

My Mom has Billie (the Boston Terrier) and Pepper. Pepper came from an animal shelter. When my Mom and Dad moved across the street from me (because Dad was failing - Alzheimer's) they had a Shih Tzu named Lil who passed away. My Mom thought my Dad missed Lil and wanted another dog. I suggested we go to the shelter. She saw a Jack Russell Terrier she liked and asked to have some private time with the dog. We were led to this large, fenced pen and were told to stand at one end. The dog was brought in and left off the leash. Her name was Pepa, so my Mom called for Pepper... the dog ran across the length of the room and jumped right into my Mom's arms. Well... end of story. 

Pepper has/had terrible anxiety issues which cost my Mom lots of curtains (which Pepper kept tearing off the windows) and Pepper some of her teeth (she would chew her kennels - even metal ones.) Fast forward. She adored my Dad (she would curl up with him in his hospital bed) and has mellowed with age. She's a sweetie. 

Billie bites. And pees. It's gotten better, but we have to watch him constantly. Boston Terriers are not known for biting, but, apparently, while being locked in his kennel up to 16 hours a day, Billie didn't get that memo - and his previous owner failed to mention it. He's a cute, funny little guy. I adore him and he seems very happy. 

The Boyfriend has four, had five, cats. Cedric, I wrote about last Xmas. That leaves: Wonk, a 21-year old black cat who is cranky and a sweetie, LeRoy - a four year old black cat that The Boyfriend adopted as a kitten (he's an odd duck, stand-offish), Theo, the Siamese no one at the shelter wanted to adopt because he has a broken tail (that's all I needed to hear)(he is a stand-offish love), and Tuxedo - who I have written about in the past - who continues to make great strides. I consider myself co-owner of Tuxedo and am very grateful The Boyfriend agreed to take him on. 

My youngest sister has three cats: Boris - a giant black coon-cat, Natasha - a tuxedo cat who taught me about tuxedo cats (very, very stand-offish/everything on their terms), and Molly - who is a dwarf Siamese (some special breed) and is cute as a button. They all came from the local animal shelter, which my sister supports. 

  

8/ If you currently have a pet, could you see your life without one? And if you don't currently have a pet, would you want one and what would it be?

As stated earlier, yes. I see me without a pet for a period of time in the near future. 

Hercules is my last dog for the time being. I am burnt out. Saying good-bye is too hard. Plus, I don't want to be an irresponsible pet owner; I plan to travel and that does not a good pet owner make. 

I can see myself settling down after a point... and then? Yep, I will adopt someone in need of a home. And who knows? Best made plans and all of that? I know if someone came to me with a sob story, I'd have to change my plans.

Honestly? Other than my very selfish pursuits? I don't see a purpose to my life except to be of help to others - and that includes our animal friends. So, if someone absolutely needed a home? 

I'd simply have to change my plans.

9/ If you could have any animal in the whole world as a pet (in a safe and healthy manner), which would you choose and why?

Oh... there are so many cuties. Kohala Bears, Capybaras, Chipmunks, Possums, Raccoons, Ring-tailed Lemurs, Prairie Dogs, Armadillos... 

But I will go with a Meerkat. And of course, you cannot have just one Meerkat. You must have a backyard dedicated to a Meerkat family. And, of course, you cannot have just one Meerkat family, you must have at least two. 

All of which is a terrible, terrible idea. 

Animals that live in the wild? Need to stay in the wild. We humans need to stop thinking we need to domesticate and 'own' everything. That mindset of ours? 

Well, look where it's gotten us?

--- ---

That's it for today.

So much fun. I adore pets. Pet ownership is serious business - so rewarding - but if undertaken? It must be taken seriously. 

Okay... your turn.

Leave your answers in the comment section or post on your blog and leave a link here. 

For those of you who are not a pet owner/animal person? There are still a couple questions you can answer.

Thanks for sharing.

And, as always, thanks for reading!

Atomic Dog - George Clinton

I Want A Dog - Pet Shop Boys