I have strange pets but then again, everything and everyone in my household is strange.
I can't walk by a wall without the sudden urge to stop and straighten out a picture which is bolted down. I know it's impossible to straighten. Eric hung it up crooked and sealed its destiny forever with some sort of horrifying tape in the event that Thornton, Colorado would suffer a magnitude 7 earthquake. I can't fix it but I insist on trying and it drives me loony in the process.
The birds, my two zebra finches are weird. One is plucked almost naked by its companion and is the oldest living bird this side of the Mississippi by finch standards. It can barely move and sleeps in the food bowl. Most people don't know we have birds but when they walk into the study and investigate the incessant background chatter, they are horrified by the ugly hopping bird that screeches at them when they approach the cage. It would be best for my friends to just leave them alone. Mike, the old ugly one, will drop dead of a heart attack and I'd hate to have that on anyone's conscious as they step out of the room. Not that I would mind so much, but I think it might bother my guests just a wee bit.
My kids are just a little left of center. I've explained their behaviors over the months in many of my blogs. They are sweet and endearing but if you don't know them very well, they can be unsettling. I will not go into detail about the boys today.
Eric. Well, if you don't have something in your hand to drink by the time you enter the front door, you will by the time you move into the kitchen and that's even if you don't want something to drink. "What would you like to drink, we have water, soda, milk, water, coke? I can make some coffee? If you want a soda they're in the frig, just help yourself...can I get you anything? Are you sure? I can make you something? We have beer? I can make you a Margarita or a Virgin Margarita? I can run to the store and pick up something for you? Or you can just help yourself." The consummate host. He wants you to be comfortable to the point of being uncomfortable. He means well but he's a serious nut case too.
And then there are my dogs...friends say that they're spoiled. I can't say whether they are or not. They're certainly peculiar. I can attest to this. Tulip, my Shih Tzu will not eat out of a bowl like other canines. We have discovered that unless she is fed by hand (GROSS), she will starve to death. What we must do is spend at least twenty minutes at meal times and place little bite sized morsels on the tile and coax her gently to eat. Lovely. This is a horrible, time consuming and messy process.
Tank, our Lhasa Apso can not get through the night without going outside at least two times and he will not walk down on his own. He's afraid of the dark. We must carry this 23 pound fluffy beefcake half way down the stairs to give him the momentum necessary to hop down the rest of the way by himself. Once he gets back upstairs, going back to sleep is a game. He must play with my hair, whack my face with his paws, receive pets and assurances that we're next to him (remember, he's afraid of the dark), and snuggle his nose against my shoulder. This is about a 15 minute process all while listening to Tulip just below him snarling and snapping if he crosses her sacred sleep boundary. Finally asleep - three hours later he bats my face again, shakes his body, hurls himself across my back as his subtle request to go outside starts all over again. At least he's telling me now. He used to just pee in front of the door. Both Eric and I are grateful for the advance notice regardless of how little sleep he provides us.
So, are they spoiled? I can't say for sure. But you take look at these pictures and tell me if these were your dogs, how you couldn't spoil them a just a little...just a wee bit. Now I ask you, aren't they adorable?!