Meet my furbabies!

You've met my cat, Angus - and you've heard a little about my dog, Riley. So I thought I'd introduce the rest of the gang and tell you a little about them.

 

Xander

This is Xander - better known as Fat Cat, Fat Boy, or Fatty (I know, we're not very politically correct). He'll be eleven years old in a May. We adopted him from PetsMart when he was three. He was a scrawny thing when we got him, but now he's a big boy (which explains his nickname). He waddles like a big fat groundhog, he's grumpy, and he likes to pick fights with the other cats & the dog. He has all of his claws, so he could really open a can of whoopass on them if he caught them. Fortunately, he can't run very fast or jump up on anything higher than the couch, so the others get away 99.9% of the time. When he meows he sounds like an old man who has smoked too many cigarettes and had too many shots of whiskey. He also has to eat pumpkin everyday - it's like Metamucil for cats. He really is a grumpy old man.

Patrick

This my daughter's cat, Patrick. He'll be five years old on April Fool's Day. He was born in a garage and was pretty much an outdoor cat for the first couple of months of his life. He was attacked and had some injuries to his stomach & eye, so my daughter took him to keep him safe and give him a good home. His nicknames are Pat-reeky and Pat-rick. Patrick is pretty. If Patrick could have one wish, he would want to be a princess. If he could play a game, his favorite would be Pretty, Pretty Princess. His favorite songs are 'Roxanne' by The Police and 'Wake Me Up Before You Go' by Wham. He loves the color pink. I know they say that animals can't see in color - but if you give Patrick a choice of items in different colors, he will always choose the pink one. He's very affectionate and loves to be held. Patrick gets his feelings hurt easily and is extremely melodramatic - he's a diva. Patrick is also very smart - he is the only one of the cats who learned how to open our doors. He will stand on his hind legs & use his front paws like hands to pull the lever handle down & unlatch it - then push on the door with his body to open it. Which is great if the door opens outward. If it doesn't, then he has now shut himself in a room & will cry until someone comes to get him out.

 

 Angus

This is Angus - you've already met him. He will be five years old in a May. I've already told you a lot about him, so I'll just add a few more details. He's the aloof kitty of the three - and he doesn't like to be held. He will let you know if it is acceptable to pet him and if it's not, he will nip at your hand. If he determines that it is acceptable to pet him, you must continue to pet him until he decides you should stop - if you don't, he will nip at your hand. And always beware of the thwacking paw. He's a big marshmallow on the inside, but he subscribes to the Clint Eastwood school of manliness, so he doesn't show it very often.

   

Riley

This is Riley. He's a miniature Australian shepherd, and he's 3 years old. He's really smart and full of energy. He's also very territorial, which is annoying , but we will never have to worry about a stranger coming to the house unnoticed. Riley can sit, lay down, roll over, shake, jump, and spin on command. He also knows where farts come from - if you ask him if he farted, he will turn his head around & sniff his butt. I don't think that will win him any awards, but it's pretty amusing, LOL. The part that isn't amusing is if he did fart, he would clear the room. Riley takes his job as guardian very seriously. He likes to keep an eye on everyone, including the cats. He's the one who lets us know if Patrick has shut himself in a room. He also guards the yard. Our backyard is fenced, so when he goes outside, the first thing he does is check the perimeter. He would be a good Marine.

Gracie

And this is Princess Gracie Belle. She came to live with us when she was 6 weeks old, in December 1999. She weighed 15 lbs., LOL. When she was full-grown, she weighed 150 lbs., which is actually pretty small for a St. Bernard. She was the best girl. We crate-trained her, but after she was house-broken, we never had to use the crate. She would sleep the entire time we were gone, never bothering anything in the house. There was lots of drool though - I'd find dried slobber in the oddest places - even on the ceiling, LOL. When she was almost 7 years old, she started limping. Unfortunately, it turned out to be bone cancer, and we opted to have her euthanized. That was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do in my life. She's been gone almost 4 years and I still miss her.