It seems that I am giving out the wrong impression of my attitude towards animals. Just because I have indirectly been involved with a cat abortion and I have directly been involved with a hamster slaying, that doesn’t mean that I hate all our animal brethren. In fact, I am a dope for animals. I have had many animals in my day and likely more than you!
I used to have a horse called Angel. She was an arabian and lived behind our house in a rather spacious coral. My mom rode 
her most of the time but I had to clean up the horse shit. If you have a problem child in your future, simulate a horse coral and tell him/her to shovel wet muddy horse shit from the coral to a point that is only about 15 feet away from the coral. They will learn their lesson. Angel was rather feisty, as most arabian horses are, and was a real hoot to ride. You could go directly up cliffs while you held her tail and she would pull you up. I have a box somewhere filled with ribbons from me dominating the barrel racing circuit in Ventura county. Horse riding girls are hot!
My mom was a fanatic for garage sales. At one of them she picked up a huge cage full of ring neck doves numbering about 12. Within 2 weeks they were numbering around 30. There numbers would fluctuate depending on if our cats would figure out a way to open the latch and get inside. On these occasions some would escape and started to populate the surrounding area. Eventually the whole neighborhood was infested with these things that made this perpetual “hooo-hooo-hoo-hoooooooo” sound. I loved how my mom would scream at me to go find the birds after they had escaped and bring them back. I only was able to recover one. I snuck up on it while it was going to the bathroom.
We had several beautiful parrots. The most notorious was an african grey named Zulu. This bird was evil reincarnate, at least for men. He loved woman, and would snuggle into their necks. If any man tried to even get near the cage he would growl. So he claimed his part of the living room and my dad and myself just avoided that area. His cage was a small dome with a single perch in the middle of it. He would just sit on that and observe. And he was damn good at observing. African greys are known for their language learning but this one refused to learn words, likely just to spite us. But he did learn sound effects really well. He could do the microwave going off perfectly. You would be sitting and watching TV and then hear the microwave going off, so you jump up wondering what you were cooking, and check the microwave only to find nothing. He could do the sliding glass door opening and would only do this sound late at night which was very terrifying. The one word he could say was “DICK!!!!” in the sound of my mom’s voice. My dad’s name is Dick so he would come running out of his office thinking something was wrong, only to find the bird. Just sitting there, observing, occasionally snickering.
My animal caretaker growing up was Lili. An overly loving white cat. All she wanted to do was snuggle. We got her when I 
was very young and I am sure she decided that I was her kitten. She knew when I was sad and she knew when I wanted her to keep me warm. She lived a long time but got cancer in her ears. We took her to the vet who decided to remove the ears. This is an embarassing operation I suggest you never perform on your pets. She came back from the vet with no hair on her head and no ears and just some funky looking holes in her head. I picked her up and we looked at each other for a while. She then started convulsing and died in my arms. I got very angry and demanded a dual between me and the vet but my mom calmed me down.
There was Idi who was an enormous black cat and the start of the naming convention that I follow with my pets which is to name them after dictators regardless of sex. Unfortunately there are not too many female dictators. I claimed Idi as mine and opted to make him as large as I could. I would bring him into my room after he ate with the other cats and feed him more food. He eventually got so heavy he could not retract his claws when he walked and when he was on the kitchen linoleum you could hear him clicking his way over. Very scary.
Tuffy was the last of the original trio of cats. Speaking of trio, she only had three legs and 
her full name was Tuffy the Tripod. Another pet acquired at a garage sale. She was quick and generally kept to herself and you could not tell her that she only had three legs. She developed kangaroo like hind legs and could jump much higher than the others, especially Idi.
We then had a series of ragdoll cats. This is an interesting breed of cats mainly due to their 
flexibility and their lack of intelligence. Looking like Siamese, they were double jointed and when you picked them up they would unhinge their joints and try to slide through your fingers. Very weird. Only one came to be a lasting figure in my life, Mao Zedong, affectionately called Mou or Moutzi. He was a rather large a furry cat (bottom of picture) that looked like he was scowling all the time. Him and I would play this game where I would fuck with him until he would attack me. He was quick and most of the time I was quicker but he got me a lot of the time and have the scars to prove it. You could argue that I shouldn’t have done this but he never ran away so I considered it a test of dominance.
The one dog I ever had was Chili Dog. A pitbull-mastiff mix. I really only knew the dog when it was older. She loved to carry
large objects around in her mouth and try and suggest you throw it for her. but when you tried to take it from her, she would never let go. She would hold on to the object until her gums would start bleeding. At that point I would let go and I am sure she thought she was winning 
all the battles on her own accord. She eventually became absolutely deaf and very slow. We lived on a very narrow road and she would love to go in the middle of the road and lay down. If a car came from behind, she would have no idea it was there despite their incessant honking. The people would eventually get out of the car and have to poke her to get her to move. One time, someone came up to the house with Chili Dog in their arms and they told us that they were pretty sure that she was dead. We were all shocked, and then all of a sudden Chili took a giant long deep breadth and wiggled to the ground and wandered off somewhere. I think that happened more than once actually and even resulted in a trip to the vet with her wrapped in a blanket in the back of the truck. Twas a good dog.
The list goes on and is rather extensive. So please, despite what you may read on this blog, do not come to the conclusion that I hate or am cruel to animals. Quite the contrary…