Chewers' Pets - Page 14

Meet Higgins...

...a 4year old Herman tortoise, named after Higgins from Magnum P.I.

My fiancee got him for me as a birthday present 3 years ago after an offhand comment I made about thinking tortoises were cool.

As much as I love him, I'd never actually dream of getting a tortoise as a pet - or any other pet really - I'm not an animal person. The thing is, I now have him, he's a member of our family and a great listener, but he does, quite literally, fuck all. Nothing. He occasionally has a shit and eats and lies under a heat/UV bulb that costs us fuck-knows how much per month. And for that he gives us fuck all back - no welcoming wagging tail when we come in, no playing with string, no warmth or love.

He'll live until he's about 70 years old. He will outlive me and be with me forever and a day, I cannot escape him - If I ever find myself destitute I will have a tortoise's welfare to consider too.

But I love him and wouldn't part with him for anything.

The lazy, belligerent little fucker.

Those of you who follow me on Facebook already know him, but here he is, my cat, Chester Drawers:

I got him for my birthday in 2010; he's a rescue kitty who was already 7 years old (his owner dumped him when she finished college and had to move). I was hesitant at first, since I had lost my childhood cat the year before (after 16 years) and wasn't sure how another cat would work with me. But sure enough, our personalities clicked and he became the best thing that could have happened to me at the time--I was reeling from a string of failed relationships, strained family ties, and several dead end jobs with no career path--but here was this ball of fluff who didn't give a crap about all that, he just wanted love. Well, and food. And a clean place to shit. With the occasional belly rub. But I could handle that. And slowly, I felt my life start gluing itself back together.

Back in September, I noticed he was losing weight. I had switched his food to a diet control, since he was a fatass, but he kept losing pounds until finally, I ended up taking him to the vet hospital in the middle of the night because he hadn't eaten in three days. Turns out he had a bile duct infection which was spreading to his liver; it was a vicious cycle because the only way to clear his liver was for food and water to pass through it, but because he felt shitty, he wouldn't eat. 

So he ended up with this:

That's a feeding tube stitched to the top of his head leading into his neck down into his stomach. Three times a day, my roommate and I shared duties of pureeing food and slowly (slooowly) giving him full meals in order for him to get his insides back on track. It was a very long month and a half, full of vomiting, diarreha (including the discovery that a cat pooping directly onto my foot isn't something that makes me hurl), but eventually, he got his appetite back, the tube came out, and I'm proud to say he's back to fighting weight again:

It was a huge leap of faith, though. He came very borderline to his entire digestive track just shutting down on us twice; at the absolute worst of it he only weighed 7 lbs. But there was a realization when it came time to choose whether to fight or to put poor Chester out of his misery: this little jerk, whether he knows it or not, quite literally saved my life. There were so many emotional and mental blocks that were constantly tripping me up in life that he knocked down that I don't know where or who I'd be right now if I didn't have him. I at least owed him that.

He saved my life, and I his. That's love. This works.

I can't top that story. All's I gots to say is that Freddie is the cutest pup ever.

His secret's the ears.

I'm not typically a cat person, Greg, but AWWWWW. I love sweet pet stories.

This is Brix Smith (named for the erstwhile guitarist from The Fall). She was once a stray that followed me around the outside of my old apartment for several months years ago. She was always friendly but I didn't want a cat & she was in pretty bad shape (covered in fleas, tooth missing, ear with a chunk missing). One rainy night, after a year of her meowing at me every time I stepped outside, I saw her shivering alone in the cold & finally said, "Fuck it" and took her in. I've owned a few cats over the years & she is easily the friendliest, cleanest, & no-fuss animal I've been in close contact with. Today. she's like an extra appendage & an ever-present positive presence that I couldn't imagine doing without.

Greg, that's such a beautiful story. 

Art, Stale Elvis and Bendrix, those are lovely animal friends.

My best friend was a Doberman/Shepherd mix named Elvis whom I adopted while in college, but he's gone -- can't tell that story because it makes me too sad.  I've since had two more dogs pass away.  What I have now is a motley group of three dogs (one pound puppy, one I found on  the freeway on a rainy night, and one adopted from a rescue) and one cat.  Since my comp is in the shop, I only have a few pics.

My daughter's sassy chihuahua/dachsund mix, nickname:  Tiny Beast.  Even though she's small, she is the Alpha Female and basically intimidates my other much larger dogs (a German Shepherd and Rhodesian mix).

Black -- when I found him on the freeway, I put up signs all over my neighborhood but mysteriously someone took the signs down.  Someone who lives about a mile from my house has a bunch of black Shepherds but they're all mean.  My theory is that Black was like the Ferdinand of the family so they dumped him for not being fierce enough.  He's the biggest dog in the pack but, alas, the Omega.

My cat, Love Machine, on a night patrol. 

I've posted pics of her in this thread before, but here's some recent pics of my malamute mix Maya.  She's a little fatter, a little older (she's a rescue, so can't say for sure, but probably about 7 or 8 now), and still going strong.

(She does not like the cone of shame.)

And here's a pic of my brother's cat Scully.  She's gonna be crashing at my place next month, so should be interesting, especially since the 95 pound dog is absolutely terrified of the 8 pound cat.

Well, I don't usually do this, but just drunk enough.  My late, lamented Lhasa:

She passed away Christmas Day after a brief but fierce fight with (what was probably) liver cancer.

A true dog-cat, if you know what I mean.  Friendliest cat I've ever seen.  Even played fetch for real!  First pet I've lost as an adult, I wasn't prepared for how much it hit me.

Anyways, here's my friends' bundle of joy:

They call her Shiraz.  I call it Demon-Spawn.

Quote:

Originally Posted by yt 

 

 

Black -- when I found him on the freeway, I put up signs all over my neighborhood but mysteriously someone took the signs down.  Someone who lives about a mile from my house has a bunch of black Shepherds but they're all mean.  My theory is that Black was like the Ferdinand of the family so they dumped him for not being fierce enough.  He's the biggest dog in the pack but, alas, the Omega.

 

 

My cat, Love Machine, on a night patrol. 

Forgive me for getting poetic, but there is something incredibly...romantic, for lack of a better word, about driving in the pouring rain at night and meeting a four-legged friend by pure happenstance.  Black looks like a total badass. 

Love Machine looks like he/she just got caught wanking.

Quote:

Originally Posted by HarleyQuinn22 

Forgive me for getting poetic, but there is something incredibly...romantic, for lack of a better word, about driving in the pouring rain at night and meeting a four-legged friend by pure happenstance.  Black looks like a total badass. 

 

Love Machine looks like he/she just got caught wanking.

Finding Black was like that!  Black dog in the rain on the freeway - it was meant to be. 

He must have been scared to death, poor thing.  I'm glad you found him!

This is Stella, light of my life and star witness in an animal cruelty case. She's a Papillon, rescued from a puppy mill where her body was used to manufacture yappy purse accessories for rich ladies. Rehabilitating and resocializing her has been our life's work for several years now, but after a lot of patience and love she's almost like a real dog.

It was six months before we heard her bark. We weren't sure she could.

She was afraid of everything at first - she's come so far that her ability to recover from a cruel life has changed our attitudes about our own petty problems.

When my wife and I started looking for a pet, all I wanted was a big, manly dog. Now all I want is five minutes alone with the owners of that "breeding establishment".

Here's a better photo.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lightning Slim 

Here's a better photo.

 

That dog is smiling at me and I like it.

The smile has a story. Her jaw was broken by a cage door (or a boot) during her captivity, and had to be reconstructed by the incredibly generous and skilled people at the OSPCA.

Now she only has three teeth left. Her little tongue sometimes flops out, as there's nothing to hold it in. Like this:

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lightning Slim 

The smile has a story. Her jaw was broken by a cage door (or a boot) during her captivity, and had to be reconstructed by the incredibly generous and skilled people at the OSPCA.

 

Now she only has three teeth left. Her little tongue sometimes flops out, as there's nothing to hold it in. Like this:

So much for me liking it.  Poor thing.

Don't feel bad. She's living life and taking pleasure in it, at long last. You want to call it a smile because it gives you one, be our guest.

Stella's a good dog.

Inhumane dog breeders and puppy mills make me mental.  These people should be locked up and the key should be thrown away. 

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lightning Slim 

Don't feel bad. She's living life and taking pleasure in it, at long last. You want to call it a smile because it gives you one, be our guest.

 

Stella's a good dog.

Stella looks like she's come a really long way, I'm so happy you guys found her and are giving her the love she deserves.

Here's another pic of our little monster Moe:

That cat looks fun. Is that Moe's copy of  Eating Animals?

Bringin' it back, y'all, with more cute courtesy of an afternoon nap and a roommate with a quick camera:

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lightning Slim 

 

This is Stella, light of my life and star witness in an animal cruelty case. She's a Papillon, rescued from a puppy mill where her body was used to manufacture yappy purse accessories for rich ladies. Rehabilitating and resocializing her has been our life's work for several years now, but after a lot of patience and love she's almost like a real dog.

 

It was six months before we heard her bark. We weren't sure she could.

 

She was afraid of everything at first - she's come so far that her ability to recover from a cruel life has changed our attitudes about our own petty problems.

 

When my wife and I started looking for a pet, all I wanted was a big, manly dog. Now all I want is five minutes alone with the owners of that "breeding establishment".

 

That's awesome. She's just beautiful. I'd rather not go into what I'd like to do with puppy farm owners and puppy farms in general, you guys might look at me differently.

Quote:

Originally Posted by The Rain Dog 

 I'd rather not go into what I'd like to do with puppy farm owners and puppy farms in general, you guys might look at me differently.

You're right.  I would look at you differently.  I'd hold you in even higher regard.  Anyone who harms a defenseless little animal is a shit-stain on the underwear of the world.

Quote:

Originally Posted by HarleyQuinn22 

You're right.  I would look at you differently.  I'd hold you in even higher regard.  Anyone who harms a defenseless little animal is a shit-stain on the underwear of the world.

Nothing pushes my buttons more profoundly and makes me go all 'red mist'. It's been like that since I was a little kid who was simultaneously in love with and terrified of most animals.

Quote:

Originally Posted by ScottieFerguson 

I've posted pics of her in this thread before, but here's some recent pics of my malamute mix Maya.  She's a little fatter, a little older (she's a rescue, so can't say for sure, but probably about 7 or 8 now), and still going strong.

(She does not like the cone of shame.)

 

And here's a pic of my brother's cat Scully.  She's gonna be crashing at my place next month, so should be interesting, especially since the 95 pound dog is absolutely terrified of the 8 pound cat.

 

The cat looks very similar to my cat SteelyWhat breed is Scully?Steely is a tabby manx mix.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Greg Clark 

Those of you who follow me on Facebook already know him, but here he is, my cat, Chester Drawers:

 

 

I got him for my birthday in 2010; he's a rescue kitty who was already 7 years old (his owner dumped him when she finished college and had to move). I was hesitant at first, since I had lost my childhood cat the year before (after 16 years) and wasn't sure how another cat would work with me. But sure enough, our personalities clicked and he became the best thing that could have happened to me at the time--I was reeling from a string of failed relationships, strained family ties, and several dead end jobs with no career path--but here was this ball of fluff who didn't give a crap about all that, he just wanted love. Well, and food. And a clean place to shit. With the occasional belly rub. But I could handle that. And slowly, I felt my life start gluing itself back together.

 

 

Back in September, I noticed he was losing weight. I had switched his food to a diet control, since he was a fatass, but he kept losing pounds until finally, I ended up taking him to the vet hospital in the middle of the night because he hadn't eaten in three days. Turns out he had a bile duct infection which was spreading to his liver; it was a vicious cycle because the only way to clear his liver was for food and water to pass through it, but because he felt shitty, he wouldn't eat. 

 

So he ended up with this:

 

 

That's a feeding tube stitched to the top of his head leading into his neck down into his stomach. Three times a day, my roommate and I shared duties of pureeing food and slowly (slooowly) giving him full meals in order for him to get his insides back on track. It was a very long month and a half, full of vomiting, diarreha (including the discovery that a cat pooping directly onto my foot isn't something that makes me hurl), but eventually, he got his appetite back, the tube came out, and I'm proud to say he's back to fighting weight again:

 

 

It was a huge leap of faith, though. He came very borderline to his entire digestive track just shutting down on us twice; at the absolute worst of it he only weighed 7 lbs. But there was a realization when it came time to choose whether to fight or to put poor Chester out of his misery: this little jerk, whether he knows it or not, quite literally saved my life. There were so many emotional and mental blocks that were constantly tripping me up in life that he knocked down that I don't know where or who I'd be right now if I didn't have him. I at least owed him that.

 

He saved my life, and I his. That's love. This works.

 

Quote:

Originally Posted by Greg Clark 

Those of you who follow me on Facebook already know him, but here he is, my cat, Chester Drawers:

 

 

I got him for my birthday in 2010; he's a rescue kitty who was already 7 years old (his owner dumped him when she finished college and had to move). I was hesitant at first, since I had lost my childhood cat the year before (after 16 years) and wasn't sure how another cat would work with me. But sure enough, our personalities clicked and he became the best thing that could have happened to me at the time--I was reeling from a string of failed relationships, strained family ties, and several dead end jobs with no career path--but here was this ball of fluff who didn't give a crap about all that, he just wanted love. Well, and food. And a clean place to shit. With the occasional belly rub. But I could handle that. And slowly, I felt my life start gluing itself back together.

 

 

Back in September, I noticed he was losing weight. I had switched his food to a diet control, since he was a fatass, but he kept losing pounds until finally, I ended up taking him to the vet hospital in the middle of the night because he hadn't eaten in three days. Turns out he had a bile duct infection which was spreading to his liver; it was a vicious cycle because the only way to clear his liver was for food and water to pass through it, but because he felt shitty, he wouldn't eat. 

 

So he ended up with this:

 

 

That's a feeding tube stitched to the top of his head leading into his neck down into his stomach. Three times a day, my roommate and I shared duties of pureeing food and slowly (slooowly) giving him full meals in order for him to get his insides back on track. It was a very long month and a half, full of vomiting, diarreha (including the discovery that a cat pooping directly onto my foot isn't something that makes me hurl), but eventually, he got his appetite back, the tube came out, and I'm proud to say he's back to fighting weight again:

 

 

It was a huge leap of faith, though. He came very borderline to his entire digestive track just shutting down on us twice; at the absolute worst of it he only weighed 7 lbs. But there was a realization when it came time to choose whether to fight or to put poor Chester out of his misery: this little jerk, whether he knows it or not, quite literally saved my life. There were so many emotional and mental blocks that were constantly tripping me up in life that he knocked down that I don't know where or who I'd be right now if I didn't have him. I at least owed him that.

 

He saved my life, and I his. That's love. This works.

 

You just put a wide grin on my face. Great story. Yeah, I know my cat is pulling his weight when he sleeps with me and just loves me. Cats and dogs have better morals than most people.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Joslyn Ferguson 

 

The cat looks very similar to my cat SteelyWhat breed is Scully?Steely is a tabby manx mix.

Very cute.  Honestly, I don't really know anything about cat breeds, so I have no idea what Scully is.  She originally belonged to my brother's former roommate, who I believe just got her from some folks giving away free kittens on the side of the road, so likely a mix of some kind.