Smokey the Hamster

Smokey the HamsterYou might recall the bunny fiasco a while back. Fiasco probably isn’t the right word because Jack was cute and really sweet but he pooped a lot. So much that I couldn’t keep up with the poop. I also had a really had time leaving him in the cage all day. It just didn’t seem right for one animal to be locked in a cage while the other two roamed free. Of course the other two didn’t eject poop like a slot machine (every pull is a winner!). So, we found a new home for the bunny. It was heartbreaking to say the least.

Every day there were tears about how much a certain someone in the household missed Jack and how we really, really needed to get him back. I spent a great deal of my time explaining why Jack was much happier on the farm chasing chickens and pooping freely but to no avail. We needed a new pet to stop the tears.

Along comes Smokey

Smokey is awesome. Smokey likes to be in a cage and Smokey’s poos are small and don’t go shooting out of his butt like the rabbit’s did. So without further ado I introduce you to Smokey the Hamster.

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My Daughter is Going To Be a Crack Addict and it Will Be All My Fault

Bunnies poop a lot, rabbit poo, rabbit pills, Flemish giant poo

As a single mother I worry about my kids and how they are going to turn out because they don’t have a dad around 24/7 to keep them on the straight and narrow. I can be a bit of a pushover at times and sometimes I let them do things that aren’t always the best for them because it is just easier for me to say ‘yes’.

I don’t want to have to put up with the screaming and crying and temper tantrums. Besides, if they start crying and whining after five that can totally ruin my buzz and we don’t want that to happen.

It looks like my son might be turning out alright. In spite of everything (growing up in a single parent home, having his dad walk out on us and his step dad walk out) he seems to be doing okay. Even if he isn’t I only have two weeks left and then if he does something stupid it’s his problem. Which really means if he does something illegal he goes to jail and not me because he is going to be 18.

Woohoo.

The daughter has a long way to go before she is considered legal so I still have to make sure she does the right thing so I don’t have to go jail if she does something wrong.

Not that she does anything illegal yet but it could happen.

She has informed me that if I go through with my decision she will become a crack addict.

What decision is that, you ask?

I’ll tell you.

Last week we got a bunny. Actually my son got the bunny but ever since he brought it home I have been the one doing all the bunny work.

Bunnies poop a lot. Bunnies also chew on things (like the phone cords) and they poop a lot.

We got the bunny on Sunday of last week and by Thursday I had decided that it had to go. I can’t even call him by his name, which is Jack, because that personalizes him too much and already I am working against the cute card he keeps playing. And I am losing.

Jack is cute. But that is all he is. His cuteness goes far, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t do anything else besides being cute. The dog, as dumb as he is, barks when the evil mailman comes and whenever any of those liberals show up during election season trying to get me to switch teams. The cat, who keeps me awake all fucking night long for reasons only she understands, kills mice in the garage. She also kills rabbits and the mutherfucking squirrels who dig holes all over my front and back yard. They both serve a purpose and justify the expense they both incur such as food, treats, toys and doctor bills.

The bunny serves no purpose whatsoever except to look cute.

Worse, the bunny is like a slot machine and every one is a winner. You don’t even have to pull the handle, poop just always comes out. Sometimes it’s one and sometimes it’s 20 but you always pull a winner.

So I have been floating around the idea that maybe we should take the bunny back to the farm (they will take him!!!). This idea has not been met with any kind of enthusiasm from my daughter. At all.

I’ve even offered up a new kitten in exchange for the bunny.

Now let me just say here that I like the bunny. Jack is cute, Jack is very friendly and watching him chase after the cat so she leaps up five feet in the air in one fell swoop almost makes me want to keep him around. The cat is a bitch and she deserves to be picked on. Jack eats the veggies that the daughter refuses to eat (and that the dog doesn’t particularly care for but will eat if he has to but then he gets all kinds of gas and that isn’t good) but whatever goes in comes right out so I spend a good part of my day chasing after him with a broom and dust pan because, call me silly, but I don’t like little bunny poo all over my house.

So the daughter doesn’t want the bunny to go away. In fact she has informed me that having Jack here has helped her in life and if we got rid of him her life would be really bad.

“How does having the bunny help your life?” I asked

“Because we have Jack I write stories about him in school and I draw pictures of him. Because I am writing about him I am practicing my writing and will get better grades. If I get better grades I will get in to a better college and if I go to a good college I will get a better job and my life will be better because we had the bunny”.

I’m not making any of that up.

Which means, if you follow her logic, that she will no longer write about the bunny if we get rid of him. She will no longer draw pictures of him which means she will not get good grades (even though she isn’t even getting grades in 2nd grade) and because she will have bad grades she will have to go to community college if she is lucky. She will not be able to get a good job and thus will take up both the crack pipe and the stripper pole.

I guess we have to keep the bunny.

Hat tip to MsDarkstar for sending the image of the bunny with all the poo. Sadly the bunny poos a lot more than that.

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Death in the Family

Caribbean hermit crab (coenobita clypeatus), dead hermit crabs, how to kill your hermit crabs

This is what they look like when they are alive

And it’s all my fault.

I killed the hermit crabs. At least I think I did. It’s hard to tell since they don’t do anything. Hermit crabs aren’t like the cat or the dog. If you forget to feed or water then they make noise, they drink out of the toilet, they throw their bowl around until someone notices and feeds them. I think I subconsciously hated the crabs because every time I gave them water or food they made such a mess I had to clean out the whole cage and that sucks to pick up little tiny poops. They had no respect for their food dish and they didn’t understand that when they moved their little wet sponge out of the dish it just drained into the sand which I was told was a bad thing by the little man at the kiosk in the Mall of America who sold them to us.

It was Friday morning, I had just gotten the kids off to school when I was picking up the kitchen. The hermit crabs lived on top of the vent hood over the stove because the cat couldn’t get up there and there was a heat vent to keep them warm. I noticed that one of them had crawled out from the little coconut shell and was upside down. I didn’t think much of the fact that he was upside down because maybe he wanted to lie on his back. Since I noticed them I took the cage down to give them some water and food.

I decided to flip the little guy over and that’s when he fell out of his shell!

They don’t do that. They hang on to their shell with their back feet something fierce, and he wasn’t moving, he just sat there all limp like. So I checked the other one and noticed he smelled like dead fish that the dog rolls in sometimes when we are at the lake.

dead hermit crabs

This is what they look like when they are dead

Oh the carnage!

It was only 9am, the kids wouldn’t be home until 3:30pm. More importantly the little one wouldn’t be home til that time, the big one could care less even though technically one of them was his. His sister had glommed on to his a day after they came home from the mall.

I couldn’t leave them there, on the kitchen counter, all day. I just couldn’t bare to look at them all dead. The guilt was killing me. I kept reminding myself that they were just bugs but they were more than that. They were members of our family, they had names, even if no one could remember what they were.

I texted my son:

Both hermit crabs are dead. I can’t bare to look at them and want to throw them away. Do I have to wait for Maddie to get home?

His response:

No shes prolly forgot about em its your call, did you get my batteries?

I couldn’t just throw them out but I didn’t know how I was going to explain this to my daughter. This wasn’t just one death, this was a massacre, and worse there was a third one that had died months ago. Maddie was at her dad’s that weekend and I didn’t want to keep a dead hermit crab for two days so I just put it in the trash. She hadn’t noticed that there were only two but she would now for sure. How was I going to explain that?

The worst part about all of this is that while I am feeling horrible for being responsible for their deaths I was also composing this blog post in my head.

I left them on the kitchen counter. I was going to have to fess up that one had died months ago, hell for all I know these two had been dead since the first one died, and I didn’t tell her. I avoided the kitchen.

I was hoping she wouldn’t want to look too closely at them. Hermit crabs smell really bad when dead and she isn’t keen on things that smell icky, or dead for that matter. If she didn’t get too close she might not notice that there were two instead of three and I wouldn’t have to explain my actions regarding the first dead hermit crab.

Actually it was the second hermit crab that died. The first one died last Christmas, we noticed it was dead when we got our Christmas tree with her dad (ex#2). She wanted to show them to him and when she picked it up his legs fell off. Hermit crabs are not for the faint of heart. She was nonplussed about it and suggested we throw it in the trash at that time. I was hoping for the same reaction.

Which is exactly what I got, at first.

I told her about the deaths, let her quickly glance inside the cage and then I took the whole cage outside to the trash container in the ally. I placed them gently in there and then shut the lid. My neighbor was out back doing some yard work so I mentioned the deaths to him.

I went inside and started preparing dinner. 15 minutes later I realized I had not taken a picture of the dead hermit crabs!

Back outside to the garbage I go. My neighbor, who is still outside working on his yard, sees me rummaging through the trash and starts laughing because he knows exactly what I am doing.

“Forgot to take pictures for your blog?”

Maddie wants to get new hermit crabs, of course she does. There is no way in hell I am going through this again. I’ll get a puppy or another cat to pacify her, they might cause more heartache when they finally pass but at least if they aren’t getting food or water they will tell me and they probably won’t lose a leg when they do die.

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