Meet the Menagerie
Dec. 21st, 2003 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pantryslutMy parents have a menagerie. I don't know entirely how they managed to accumulate so many animals. "Stupidity," says my mother. "Soft-heartedness, soft-headedness, maybe both," says my father. "It's not my fault!" says my 13-year-old sister.
The dogs:
Grover is the oldest dog. He's a smooth-coated golden retriever. Mom says that if you leave his crate unlatched, he'll sit in his crate all night anyway without a fuss.
Zack is the youngest dog; he is also a golden retriever, but with a curly coat. He's also the biggest dog, and the most rambunctious.
Cleo is the smallest, and a part-Lab mutt. She's also the boss dog, in a big way. She likes to herd the other dogs sometimes, which means that my sister is convinced (probably incorrectly) that she is part Border collie. This is helped by the fact that she's spotted black and white.
The cats:
Licorice is the old lady cat that I mentioned in a previous post. She's 18 years old, she has cataracts, and she lives entirely outdoors. We got her as a kitten when I was a teenager to succeed my very first cat, Odessa of legend and fame. She used to live indoors, but she doesn't like the new house (my parents moved ten blocks when I was in my 20's) and actively resists being brought indoors at this point. She is fat and tortoiseshell, with significant tabby admixture and a white patch on her chin. Her mewl sounds like an unoiled door hinge.
Sasha is the other outdoor cat. He was rescued from a megastore parking lot as a kitten, and his famous mellowness is credited to this early trauma. Sasha was kicked out of the house when he took to peeing on vinyl in an obsessive sort of way. Now he splits his time with my parents and the neighbors two houses down, who let him in their house (guess they don't have any vinyl to worry about). In fact, the woman living there says that Sasha was a great comfort to her when her elderly dog died a year or two ago. Sasha is a beautiful huge black cat.
Fluffy is the eldest indoor cat; she's a British calico, I think, which means she's got grey tabby patches on a white background. She's the most talkative of the cats, and fortunately has a mellifulous voice. Her name is the consequence of letting a three-year-old name a pet.
Cyrus is the next oldest. He's gigantic and white, and barely escaped being renamed "Snowball" by the abovementioned youngster. He suffers from megacolon and is on a special diet. He is also the shyest cat, living almost exclusively beneath my parents' bed.
Smokey is a big grey tabby boy. He acts shy, but really he's quite affectionate. And when he relaxes, he turns into a puddle of grey fluff.
Max is a black tabby with orange undertones, a "Halloween cat." He's only a year old. I should say more about him, but I remember him best as a little black kitten. He sleeps on my sister's bed, having apparently displaced Fluffy in this duty.
Lily is the baby, still a kitten in temperament if not in body. She's a classic tricolor calico, though with a lot of tabby showing through. She is hugely affectionate, and likes eating hair and nibbling on earlobes. She seems to purr constantly.
The rest:
Mr. Floppy is a rather sad bunny. He was a whim of my 13-year-old sister, but bunnies just don't have a lot of personality, so he's mostly ignored at this point. Mom says that when he's out of the cage, he tries to hump the cats.
There is also a fish in a tank in my room. A single goldfish in a tank. I don't know if this one has a name or not; I haven't asked. Seems happy enough.
Amazingly, the house does not smell like wet dog or dirty bunny or cat pee. It's a big house. But try walking up the stairs at night and you'll have to navigate the gauntlet of draped cats.
After being home for a while, having a mere three cats in my apartment seeems entirely reasonable.
The dogs:
Grover is the oldest dog. He's a smooth-coated golden retriever. Mom says that if you leave his crate unlatched, he'll sit in his crate all night anyway without a fuss.
Zack is the youngest dog; he is also a golden retriever, but with a curly coat. He's also the biggest dog, and the most rambunctious.
Cleo is the smallest, and a part-Lab mutt. She's also the boss dog, in a big way. She likes to herd the other dogs sometimes, which means that my sister is convinced (probably incorrectly) that she is part Border collie. This is helped by the fact that she's spotted black and white.
The cats:
Licorice is the old lady cat that I mentioned in a previous post. She's 18 years old, she has cataracts, and she lives entirely outdoors. We got her as a kitten when I was a teenager to succeed my very first cat, Odessa of legend and fame. She used to live indoors, but she doesn't like the new house (my parents moved ten blocks when I was in my 20's) and actively resists being brought indoors at this point. She is fat and tortoiseshell, with significant tabby admixture and a white patch on her chin. Her mewl sounds like an unoiled door hinge.
Sasha is the other outdoor cat. He was rescued from a megastore parking lot as a kitten, and his famous mellowness is credited to this early trauma. Sasha was kicked out of the house when he took to peeing on vinyl in an obsessive sort of way. Now he splits his time with my parents and the neighbors two houses down, who let him in their house (guess they don't have any vinyl to worry about). In fact, the woman living there says that Sasha was a great comfort to her when her elderly dog died a year or two ago. Sasha is a beautiful huge black cat.
Fluffy is the eldest indoor cat; she's a British calico, I think, which means she's got grey tabby patches on a white background. She's the most talkative of the cats, and fortunately has a mellifulous voice. Her name is the consequence of letting a three-year-old name a pet.
Cyrus is the next oldest. He's gigantic and white, and barely escaped being renamed "Snowball" by the abovementioned youngster. He suffers from megacolon and is on a special diet. He is also the shyest cat, living almost exclusively beneath my parents' bed.
Smokey is a big grey tabby boy. He acts shy, but really he's quite affectionate. And when he relaxes, he turns into a puddle of grey fluff.
Max is a black tabby with orange undertones, a "Halloween cat." He's only a year old. I should say more about him, but I remember him best as a little black kitten. He sleeps on my sister's bed, having apparently displaced Fluffy in this duty.
Lily is the baby, still a kitten in temperament if not in body. She's a classic tricolor calico, though with a lot of tabby showing through. She is hugely affectionate, and likes eating hair and nibbling on earlobes. She seems to purr constantly.
The rest:
Mr. Floppy is a rather sad bunny. He was a whim of my 13-year-old sister, but bunnies just don't have a lot of personality, so he's mostly ignored at this point. Mom says that when he's out of the cage, he tries to hump the cats.
There is also a fish in a tank in my room. A single goldfish in a tank. I don't know if this one has a name or not; I haven't asked. Seems happy enough.
Amazingly, the house does not smell like wet dog or dirty bunny or cat pee. It's a big house. But try walking up the stairs at night and you'll have to navigate the gauntlet of draped cats.
After being home for a while, having a mere three cats in my apartment seeems entirely reasonable.
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names
Date: 2003-12-22 05:51 am (UTC)Not much happening here - power was out for 12 hrs yesterday, but we only missed it when we went to sleep - no cpap and no water bed heater.
Re: names
Date: 2003-12-22 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-22 06:49 am (UTC)Humph.