Scales and Tails

Greta is 10.5 pounds, up a bit, but she was thin when I got her, and after all the surgery stuff I think she’s just about right. Mr. Cody is 9.5; he weighed 7.5 when I got him and was at a good weight. Clearly, his racing career is in jeopardy.

I think the culprit is the cat box, gross as that may be. So, I must set about with a plan to elevate the cat box. The terms of my lease specify that cat boxes must be on linoleum (not on the hardwoods). As I searched in my mind for the perfect poo platform for Pasht, I realized I already had one-the new snake rack. She likes it anyway because it is warm, and flat and the top is up “high”, about 4 feet. It’s wide enough to provide a good solid support for her so I won’t need to add rails. Problem solved.

Getting two wiggly, one fearful (Cody) and one sometimes aggressive (Greta) dogs up a set of steps and into the vets/kennel was a trial. Let’s just say it is not a good idea to start up the steps with one dog under your arm (Cody’s collar was chewed up) and one dog on the lead (Greta) and one hand on the walker. Fortunately, someone saw my plight and came and grabbed Cody, once in inside we got settled and Greta was a good girl, even being handed off to the male vet tech. GO Greta! However, that ordeal sucked out all the positive, calm assertive I energy I have left for the day. Well, maybe not.

Before even leaving the house, I set up a warm, wet hide (revamped dog carrier) for Alfred Hitchcock-who is shedding. He’s not a hissy, striking shedder, instead he curls up in a round fat ball with his head on top making sure that you notice he is uncomfortable and completely and utterly miserable. Too miserable to move to make room for the hide; and completely unable to actually crawl into the hide. Hooking and lifting about 10+ pounds of miserable snake into a box with no help whatsoever from the snake is challenging. He is the perfect picture of someone who has made it to the top of the food chain, he OWNS his space, and expects respect and servitude from those who enter it.

Bette Davis observed this with complete disdain. She’s very catlike, and anything that doesn’t directly impact her must be observed with utter disregard. She also crawls into her water tray and soaks HERSELF when she’s shedding-she doesn’t wait for someone to help her. I love Bette. Her new “husband” is arriving this weekend but I will have to do the same soul searching to figure out if I can actually part with the hatchlings.

The same goes for the Balls-I adore She, and Zsa Zsa and feisty Eva-future brides of Alfred. I am actually trading Alice Cooper to a local snake friend because I can’t bear the idea that he won’t be allowed to breed if he stays with me.

I’m just not cut out for the “business” of animals. I’ll return on Sunday with new tales and pictures of the Spotties and Dolly.