Drum roll please!

We got approved for a house. Now it's shopping time so that we can make an offer!

Whooo hooo! I am excited!

You are driving me blinking crazy!

Personal pet peeve:

What would Jesus do?

He would use his blinker!

Bumper stickers of the world: I am in agreement!

Is your tail wagging today?

Yes, I have seven pets.

No, I am not crazy.

Meet Baxter.

Baxter is the epitome of what a bunny should be. He’s gentle. He’s soft. He’s laid back. He lives outside (unless it’s cold) in a HUGE rabbit hutch that takes four strong adults to move. He will hop around the yard sometimes to get some fresh grass and really have a chance to stretch his legs. Every Easter Baxter goes with me to church or a preschool to visit with the kids. Baxter is a rare pet for me because there was no rescuing to it. I wanted him so I paid for him. And I am so glad I did.

Here he is with my niece, Meredith last month:

Next in line is Brie. Brie is my six year old cat. She taught me about SPCAs. In college I went with an old roomie to “look”. Anyone who is an animal person has no right to be there unless they intend on adopting because that is indeed what you will do! When we went into the cat room, there she was.

She was twelve weeks old and a bright white kitten with blue eyes and dark spots on her nose, tail and paws. I fell in love…and so she is most likely sleeping on my pillow right now, six years later.

So here she is, my Brie-baby:

She has darkened up over the years, but her eyes are as crystal blue as it gets. She has my heart and she knows it.

Then, five years ago, this couple brought in an itty, bitty, baby bunny to the emergency clinic. She was so small she could just about sit on a post-it. And staying in the office theme, her fur was the color of the brightest pink highlighter you could find.

This couple went to the pet store to get their daughter a baby bunny for Easter, but thought it would be cute if they dyed the bunnies’ fur pink. Bright pink. Oh my. She went into grand mal seizures due to the dye.

After seeing the estimate of what it would take to save her, they decided to put her down. My heart swelled up and I took over her care. Given the name Gracie, she is now a very fat and happy rabbit. Unfortunately, because our first few weeks together I injected her, place iv catheters, and force-fed her medication, she is not my biggest fan. But man is she a fan of Baxter.

I wish I could describe to you the level of love that exists between these two. It’s something to be in awe of. So, I love Baxter and because Baxter loves Gracie, she is a part of our family.

And they came two by two.

After tragically losing my first dog, I was at work the next day at the clinic. A man brought his six-week old yellow lab pups in for their first vaccinations. After talking about the love of his dog to the vet, he had me in tears and I had to leave the room. When I came back in the room, the conversation pretty much went like this:

Client: The doc tol’ me what happened yesterday.

(I nod.)

Client: You really loved your dog, didn’t you?

Me: Yes sir. Very much so.

Client: Well then, these puppies need a good home and it looks like I am looking at one. Take your pick of the litter!

Wow!

But then, the next few moments I am chalking up to lack of judgment because of my personal tragedy.

I turned around and picked the only puppy that wasn’t sleeping peacefully.

In fact, I picked the young female pup who was doing her very best to leap out of the box to see me.

Leap.

Hmm.

That doesn’t quite describe it. Let me try again.

She was impaling herself on the side of the cardboard box towards me. (The movie Marley and Me should have been out that summer.)

Now let me make this very clear. I love Lilly the lab. Love her. I am committed to her more than you can imagine. It’s just that for the first year or so of her life, I didn’t really like her at all. She was hard!

But she is beautiful when she's calm.

And smart. Oh! She is so smart. And since she has turned two last March, I have noticed a big change. And I like it.

Lilly is coming full circle and I have my hands on a really great dog. At this point, I still love her and I am starting to like her too.
I had not yet taken home Lilly since she was only six weeks old. She needed to stay with her mother another two weeks…in the mean time…

Meet Atlas.

Atlas is my spunky, funky fun kitten. He’s two years old, but hey. He’s still my kitten. Atlas’ mother was a beautiful Persian cat. She had a rendezvous with an alley cat and 42 days later (yep, that’s all it takes) produced 6 beautiful, fluffy kittens and then…Atlas.

His fur gets matted even though it’s short. And even though I feed him the best of the best when it comes to his diet, he always has dandruff and just doesn’t quite look healthy. Since his mother was a purebred, his head is huge, but his body reflects that of a regular cat. Our joke was that “normal” cats have a forehead, then Atlas has a fivehead. Just one notch bigger. But then, normal is only a setting on the dryer.

He is my Charlie Brown Christmas tree, as I felt I had to take him home because I thought no one else would want him.

And when he looks at me like this:

He has me nuzzling into his matted fur every. single. time.

And because Lilly and Atlas grew up together and are only two weeks apart. They are so close.

Here they are sleeping together when they were three months old:

Looks aside, Atlas has a heart of gold. No animal in my house takes the trophy for affection like my Atlas does. Everything he has lacking in appearance, I get back in heart. Ten fold.

A year passed and I met the man who would become my husband. Since I had two cats, two bunnies and one dog he joked with me that Lilly would be lonely. I needed to make my Noah’s ark politically correct and get doggie number two.

At one and a half, Ella, the Boston terrier, had one litter of pups. Because she was a great looking dog, they thought she would be perfect to breed. But boy were they wrong. Ella is such a princess that she simply does not have time to take care of puppies. Not when there is food to eat! Or naps to take! No sir-ree. She is a busy little lady. So they adopted her out to me.


The first time Scott saw her, she was snorting. Or gasping. Or snoring. Or whatever it is that Boston Terriers do. He took one look at her and simply said, “Well, what’s wrong with her?”

Well, nothing. Everything. She’s what she is.

Quickly earning the title of Scott’s baby girl, Ella is truly a princess. Her thick body and big ole’ head has made us call her Cinderblock. Cinderella. Ella. Princess. She can make us laugh in a heartbeat. She is the only one allowed on the couches. She has our hearts. She has found her forever home. Watching her buzz around the house like she owns it, it’s hard for me to ever imagine that she used to live in a kennel.

So then Scott asked for my hand. And we officially had two bunnies, two cats, two dogs and two people.

But wait! There is one more…

Enter Cooper.

Cooper is our 17 week old puppy. Cooper’s mother was a Boston terrier and his father was a dachshund. This mix is called a Bo-Dach. We bought our little mutt from a guy’s truck at an Exxon station. Talk about what not to do when purchasing a dog.

But look at him.

Man, I am in love with this little puppy. He’s so gentle. So tiny. So sweet!

And that’s it. And according to my husband. That is it. Period.
(But according to me, you never know just who might cross your path. But...Shh! Don't tell.)

Blach, ick, phooey.

I have been married for only 18 days. And since we have come back from the honeymoon Scott has been working non-stop. This change to manager is sure testing me. It's Thursday and I kid you not, I have eaten alone every meal every single day this week! Blach, ick, phooey.

Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. We both work for at a local airport that completely overhauls planes - nose to tail - for specific aerial work. For instance, if the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) wants a plane with large windows to see fire from the air and large tanks to hold fire retardant, here we come. We deliver the plane according to all specifications, pilots and mechanics to wherever.

This is a picture of a King Air(plane) fighting fire out in California. You can see more about what exactly the company does that Scott and I work for here.

But anyway, back to my whining...

The problem is that the BLM guys really did want those planes and a WHOLE lotta of them. They need to fly out by tomorrow. My new husband worked a 27 hour shift earlier this week. (I promise!) and it is now nearly 11:00pm and he has been at it since 6:45am. I miss him! But It's the nature of the plane contract world. Work alot, fly alot, sleep a little.

And the killer is I used to love being alone. I love the productivity of being by myself. The peace of it. The time I have alone with only my God. The time I have to be an idiot and feel zero embarrassment.

And then I met Scott. Being my strong other half, I will act nerdy in front of him and he laughs or acts nerdy right back. So here I am at an hour I should be sleeping, blogging angrily at the lack of husband in the home.

Blach, ick, phooey.

Goodnight!