From Tiger's Perspective

So you know how eventually someone asks you 'if you could know the secret to any question, which would it be'?  Most people say "oh God WHYYYY did Hitler do it?!?!?!?!?" or "does God exist and if he does why did he not make nana give me any inheritance".  Well, my question is quite different, and can be viewed as either extremely enlightened or trivial.
My question is: is Tiger reaaaallly retarded?  Every vet ever has asked if we dropped him on his head of if he was the result of some heavy inbreeding and some of the stuff he does sometimes just... shocks me that he made it this far.  However, there are these moments.  These glimmerry, shiny, wonderful, ethereal moments in which I see a spark.  A spark of some intelligence.  Not going to lie, I hold onto these thoughts like a drowning man holds onto a piercing fishhook in a lake.  If he actually isn't mentally disabled, that means he's been conning my family for extra food and tummy rubs and refusing to walk out of pure evil genius.
Sometimes I fantasize about what he thinks.  I kind of imagine a Great Gatsby-esque, cool, calm, collected character that could be the precarious flirt but the deep romantic at the same time.  His voice would reflect this.  For some reason, I also imagine him as slightly schizophrenic and having conversations with himself.  Of course all of this is out of pure love and confusion of my little pooch.

So, without further ado, this is what I've gotten from Tiger's actions in about the last 12 hours.

Eva and John and Nicole have left now
I only have Danielle and Margie yes
sirree you only have Danielle
and Margie 
The chance of getting my favorite
place scratched is considerably
lower -yes sirree quite considerably lower-
with Eva and John and Nicole gone
So this is what you're going to do
Tiger old chap, this is what you're going to do
You're gonna limp
Left upper paw buddy that's it you got this
Your left upper paw and now flinch when
Danielle presses gently on it
to test if you're injured after
Margie pointed out that you are limping.
Good good she's picking me up
Now I don't have to walk up
the god-awful sticky stairs that
slaps my
tongue as I slave up she's almost there
old chap give her the 
eyes so she gives you that cookie
that she bought this morning on her bike ride
she's staring oh God
does she see through it no she can't 
pretend to fall asleep RIGHT NOW

come on fellow wake up wake up she's getting out 
another cookie okay compose
yourself look
at your paw yes yes yes she's giving 
you a second one old chap!
Wait what is that 
what is that behind her
Is that gauze? What is she saying?
"Tiger, Mom is coming back
tomorrow and I can't take you to the vet 
until she gets here but don't worry I'm going to stabilize
this leg
and then you won't hurt yourself
further"

I detest those pet names don't I
But we have a bigger pro'lem old
chap yes sirree we have a 
bigger problem that is
a woman of about sixteen years
of age is inexperiencedley- yes,
I do say quite inexperiencedley -
wrapping gauze cloth around your left
paw. 
And you are going to the vet tomorrow
and they'll probably
tell Danielle that I am 
overweight and must go
on another stricter horribler 
di-et.

Stay calm stay calm old boy, she
just gave you the
cookie and she's scratching your favorite
spot.
Just stay
calm and give 
her the eyes.  Never
give anything away.



That was actually quite fun.  For anybody wondering if I'm crazy and think my dog is faking it and therefore abusing him by not giving him proper medical care, I am taking him to the vet tomorrow and I have, in fact, bandaged up his leg

^proof that I don't abuse my dog^

I didn't have any tape so I safety pinned it... I actually called my mom and bragged to her, the great doctor, that I managed to help Tiger's leg and help him as any good vet but then Margie pointed out that I had wrapped the wrong leg.

Oh well, c'est la vie!  Right now Tiger and I doing some hardcore cuddling as I settle down to take study for my AP exams.  He's the best study buddy I could have ever asked for.

Tiger Time

My dog is the cutest thing I have ever clapped eyes on.  I don't care if the vets think he is "slow" or "mentally retarded" he is the love of my life.

OOOOOGH I CAN JUST FEEL THE CUTE FLOWING THROUGH ME

Facts About Baby Owls

Baby owls aren't called chicks.  They are called owlets.

When an owlet is ready to hatch, it's mother makes crooning noises and taps her beak all over the egg.  After the owlet has finally hatched, it's mother sometimes cuddles it in order to enhance the imprinting process.

Most owls within a "brood" don't hatch at the same time.  The average is two days apart, and they usually come out at different stages of development.  I think this occurs as another factor in the "survival of the fittest" battle.  The more developed owlet will survive longer than his less developed brother; owls born first have a higher chance of survival.

Most owlets do not eat right after they are born.

When they are born, the owlets are mostly pink with a few white feathers.  It just takes a few hours to grow whitish-yellow fuzz, but it takes over a week for their eyes to open!  This is most likely due to the higher importance of keeping warm while Mamma Bird goes hunting for food than being able to see their surroundings.

Myth: owls regurgitate their food to their children.  Fact: owls in fact lay very small strips of meat across the owlet's beak.  This process has evolved because it helps produce gastric juices in the owlet's stomach.

Although it is possible that older owlets could hurt younger ones, barn owls are among the few bird whose young actually play together.
Owlets reach adult weight and feathering in 8-9 weeks.

The young owls will stay in the nest box for about 49-54 days before they fly away.  Their first flight is called a fledge.

The survival rate of owlets reaching breeding age is about 24-40%.

I Am Grossed Out but Still Fascinated at the Same Time

I am grossed out but still fascinated at the same time by this picture of a great white shark:

Most great white sharks look super scarred up, in murky water, and have dead fish hanging out of their jaws.  So, this crystal clear photo with perfect shades of grey and white striping this giant finny thing excites me.  I would be totally enamored with it and even make it my desktop background, except....

those gills.  I know there's nothing wrong with them but there has to be something wrong with them.  THERE ARE SLITS IN THIS ANIMALS THROAT.  Like I can see the clear water I so love through them.  That grosses me out.  I can't get the image of someone getting a foot stuck in there or.... ugh.

All joking aside, this picture is amazing.  I wish I knew who took it and if they survived.  Again, I cannot get over the clearness of the water.  Sitting in my stuffy city room overlooking sky scraper apartment buildings I can't stop imagining the refrigerator-cucumberish freshness I would feel as my breath was taken away as I dove in.

Sorry, it's late and I've been studying for +14 hours straight.  Thinks start to get a little hectic in my castle after I memorize 400 AP Biology flashcards in one day.

Baby Echidna- called a "puggle"

"Fospice"

          The idea of fospice has somehow grabbed my attention.  Brought to me by my friend's AP tutor, apparently "fospicers" are foster parents that don't take the healthy, adoptable pets from their shelters.  Instead, they take old and dying pets.  They give them comfort.  They let them die in love and peace.  Fospicers know that their charges will never be adopted, but they rescue and take care of them for months anyway.
          Recently, my mother and I have been discussing fospicing as a possibility next year.  Since I will be going to university in 17 months, I don't have time to adopt a puppy or even middle-aged pet.  The rescue I predominantly work with seems to not have as many older pets as others, so I might have to spread my wings and fly into a different shelter, which slightly scares me, just because I am so comfortable fostering with Wags.
          My new foster dog should arrive in a few days or so, just in time for my AP English Language test! Yay!  Those things should balance each other out though.  Hopefully it's potty trained because if I come back from a 6 hour test and have to clean poop off of my ceiling I'll have a breakdown.

I've decided to add an unrelated, adorable awwwww picture of an animal at the end of every post.
Have a cute goat!  I think it's a goat but I'm not sure!

I've Always Wanted A Pug

          Emperor's best friend.  Thousands of years ago.  Even though pugs' owners have all moved down the social scale quite a bit, they don't whine and still rock on with their little piggy tails, snorting, and obscene amounts of drool.  Like Margo Kaufman said,

"The pug is living proof that God has a sense of humor"

          Why that would attract me, I have no idea, but I absolutely love pugs and have craved one since I was a child.  After some googling I did in preparation for this post, I found a great rescue in my home city, LA, that focuses only on pugs.  I am going to beg my mom to let me foster for them.  And by begging I mean basically offer to sell my soul to the college board if my mom lets me take care of a pug.  

The Holy List of Pugly Facts

1. Pugs are recognized as the oldest breed of dog, possibly dating back to 400 BC.  How regal and majestic.  

2. The Latin phrase "multum in parvo," meaning "a lot of dog in a small space," was often used to describe pugs.

3. A long, long time ago, the Catholic Church banned freemasonry.  A small group of dissenters formed their own group and named it The Order of the Pug, because of pugs' perceived loyalty and trustworthiness.

4. A group of pugs is called a grumble.

5. Adult pugs manage to sleep, on average, for fourteen hours a day.

6. The smushed up faces of pugs classifies these pooches as "brachycephalic": this term means that their head is broad but short.

7. Famous Prince William of Orange was saved from a Spanish attack when his pug's barking woke him up in enough time to flee.

8. Dead royalty that has also owned pugs consisted of Queen Victoria and Empress Josephine Bonaparte.

9. Pugs are horrible swimmers.  They have a huge trouble breathing, and their short legs do not propel their thick tubby bodies very well.

10. Although bad swimmers, pugs can run at about 3-5 mph.  Not exactly cheetas, but pretty good for a peanut with 4 legs.

And Now, Some Photos of Why I Love Pugs:

Mom, if you're reading this, yes, this is my plea for a pug.  Love you!