The Cat Whisperer

So my own cat hates me.

He exists to destroy me. I wish he wasn't so cute. Maybe then I could hate him back.

But other cats generally like me. A lot. It's strange, and I have been referred to as "The Cat Whisperer" more than a few times.

One day at the vet clinic, I was taking care of the cats that were boarding. I always tried to play with them and pet them some as I cleaned out their kennels. One of them was especially affectionate, so I loved on him for a few minutes. I got the feeling that I was being watched, though, and looked up to see a group of the vet techs gaping at me from outside the room.

Noticing my look of confusion, one of them explained that the sweet, loving cat I was playing with had been boarding with them all week, and his nickname was "Satan Cat". All week they had to put heavy gloves on just to change the cat's food. He literally tried to attack them every time they even got close to him. They couldn't believe I was still in one piece much less snuggling with this cat.

I thought maybe he had just changed his attitude, but no. He still hated everyone that came near him. Except me. I guess I'm just awesome.

And then there was this guy:

He was abandoned and was living at the clinic until he found a forever home. He loved riding around in my pockets.

 I don't know why, but this story reminds me of another, more unfortunate story. A different day, same clinic, an older man brought in his cat to be euthanized. He was bawling his eyes out as he handed me the cat. It was wrapped up in a towel, and I knew immediately that something wasn't right. Regardless, I did what I was told and put the cat in one of the holding cages so the vet could look at it and do the deed.

"Is this the cat I'm supposed to euthanize?" The vet asked me as he walked by the holding cages.

"Yeah, but I'm not so sure that will be necessary..." I replied.

The vet opened the cage door and picked up the cat. Its eyes were glazed over, one side of its body was flat, and it was completely stiff. It had been dead for quite a while.

"It was dead when he brought it in, but I don't think he realized... he was pretty upset..." I explained.

The vet just stood there holding the stiff, dead cat by the neck. Then he started laughing. And I started laughing. And the vet techs that walked in to see what was going on looked confused and slightly disturbed, but then they started laughing, too. Vet clinics are weird places.

Lubing up lizards.

Working at camp over the summer was the most amazing experience of my life. It was hectic and stressful, but I learned so much, made so many wonderful memories, and met some awesome friends. One of the most stressful parts of my job was being the go-to animal-fixer person. So anytime anything weird was going on with an animal, people came to me. I'd do what I could, but if it was too intense, I'd call the boss (and owner of the camp). With over 300 animals and just as many kids and counselors running about, some days were pretty crazy.

On one of those crazy days, I was in the process of having a sizable chunk of my hair ripped out by an overly playful ring-tailed lemur when I heard one of the campers calling my name. One of the leopard geckos was stuck! So off to the reptile room I went (as soon as I got the lemur off my back and told the kids to stay out the lemurs' room until the silly thing had calmed down a bit).

His sweetness makes up for his rambunctiousness.

I wasn't sure what to expect because "stuck" is a surprisingly vague term when referring to animals. They get themselves stuck in more ways than you could imagine. Luckily, this leopard gecko was just the normal kind of stuck. Somehow he had managed to squeeze his head and body through a hole in his log-shaped hide, but his back legs and tail were just a little too fat.

Isn't this the cutest leopard gecko shedding you have ever seen? I'm so glad I caught this adorableness in action. And you can see why the tail might be too fat to squeeze through small holes...

I picked him up and gently pulled and pushed, but that thing wasn't budging. It looked like his legs were starting to swell a little, which just made things worse (and meant I needed to move faster).

"I need some lube!" I said to the growing group of hovering campers and counselors. Lube is a wonderful thing. So useful, even in the strangest of circumstances (and especially when trying to re-sheath pig penises).

"Will this work?" Someone asked as they handed me a bottle of Shed Ease. It was oily enough, so I dripped some on, gave him a little lizard massage, and gave his butt a small push. Sure enough, he slipped out and crawled away like nothing happened.

Of course, many sexual jokes were made by the counselors (not in the presence of the kids, thankfully). By some, I will always be known as "that girl that lubed up Dino".

 And I just laugh, knowing that I've done much stranger things. If only they knew...

Toothless.

I was sitting on the floor the other day playing with Otto. Suddenly, a strange, somewhat white thing falls out of his mouth onto my leg. He swiftly scooped it up with his tongue and ran under a table with it. He seemed embarrassed, and Otto doesn't get embarrassed. I pulled him out and demanded he show me what he was trying to chew up.

It was a tooth. An incisor, to be exact. When he realized I was trying to get it from him, he promptly swallowed it. I knew then that it was time for another dental.

As you can see, he already has a few missing teeth..

Yorkies are known to have really bad teeth. It's just part of their breed (and a good reason not to spend money on purebred dogs... mixed breeds are generally much healthier). Otto, unfortunately, was no exception (though he is exceptionally well-behaved for a Yorkie). I got his teeth cleaned for the first time when he was 4 years old, and he had to have probably about 10 teeth pulled. Since then, I tried every dental treat/toy I could find. Nothing seems to do a good enough job, and there is no way he will ever let me brush his teeth.

Now he is 6, and this time, only around 5 or 6 teeth had to be pulled (I always assist with my animals' vet visits since I've worked with the vet, but I cringe every time another tooth has to be pulled), but sadly (especially for my wallet), I'm going to have to get his teeth cleaned yearly now (at least).

Here's a rundown of what doggy dentals/teeth cleaning entail: first the dog is given a sedative shot. When it is pretty much asleep, it is put on a gas mask for a short time and is then intubated. Then the mouth is propped open with a little tool that fits between the top and bottom canines, and the cleaning begins. First the tartar is scraped off, then loose teeth are pulled, then the teeth are polished (very similarly to human teeth cleaning), and finally, a sealant type thing is applied to the teeth. Then the gas goes off, the intubation tube is removed when the dog wakes up a little more, and pain/antibiotic shots are given (only get pain shot if teeth have been pulled).

My poor baby waking up. He looked like this for about 5 minutes, and his head was super wobbly. Yeah, I laughed.

To make his mouth feel better after his pain meds wore off, I made him some frozen dog treats. He absolutely loves them. I found the recipe on Pinterest, but I kinda just eyeballed the ingredients. This is what I used:

Two small (single serving size) tubs of plain yogurt
1 banana, mashed
About 1/8 cup of peanut butter
About 1 T honey

You just squish it all up, scoop it out into ice cube trays, and freeze it. It's probably good to limit the treat giving to once a day since these have yogurt in them (a lot of adult dogs become lactose intolerant, but small amounts shouldn't hurt them and can actually be useful in treating diarrhea).

This is basically what they look like. I'm kinda tempted to try one myself...

Cutting out uteri. Also fun stuff.

I posted about testicle removing the other day, and now it is time for uterus/ovary removing (aka ovariohysterectomies or spays).

Spays are much more invasive than neuters, so they take longer and cost more. The recovery time is also greater. The prep and stuff for spays are really similar to neuters, but past that, things are much different.

So pretend your dog (or cat) is already prepped and ready to go. The vet comes in and makes a small incision down the midline of the animal's belly (there is more connective tissue along the midline, so they aim for that because it bleeds less). Vets probably have different ways of deciding where to start and end the incision, but basically, it's a little bit under the animal's belly button, and the incisions are usually about an inch or two in length.

Then it's uterus fishing time. I can't wait to try this on my own (I'm seriously tempted to find a dead cat on the side of the road just so I can practice these things). The vet takes a hook-like instrument and loops it around the animal's uterus without being able to see what he/she is doing. It's impressive. Sometimes they hook intestines or something and pull them out, but they just squish them back in and go fishing again.

One side of the uterus (the whole thing looks kinda like a Y).

When the uterus is hooked (it's a red, fleshy thing), the vet gently pulls one side (or horn) through the incision until the ovary on the tip of the horn can be reached. Then the vet clamps directly above the ovary, cuts and ties it off, and the same thing is repeated with the other horn. So then you have the whole uterus with the ovaries attached just hanging out on the outside of the animal's incision. To finally get rid of that baby making machine, the vet clamps the bottom of the uterus (the bottom of the body), ties it off, and cuts. And that's it (except for suturing the abdominal wall back together, of course).

Same side of the same uterus. You can see the ovary better here (the round thing at the tip). It looks like the vet is getting ready to go fishing for the second half..

I've gotten to assist with quite a few spays, and the majority of them have been completely routine and normal. There were some, though, that were a little more interesting. For example, I helped remove a very infected uterus from a very smelly and poorly cared for cat. Like, you know when you walk by a usually heavier set person (usually in a motorized shopping cart) in Walmart, and it's obvious from a distance that they don't take the greatest care of themselves, but when you finally have to walk by them, you can smell this horrible stench creeping out from under their crusty, unwashed fat rolls? Yeah, that's what this cat smelled like. Like it had been living in one of those fat rolls. But back to the surgery: its uterus was purple and so filled with fluid that at first we thought it was the cat's bladder (only seeing part of it through the incision). It was nasty, to say the least, but removing that thing saved the cat's life (the owners hadn't even realized the cat was sick, and I felt horrible about sending the poor creature back home with them).

I have other fun stories about spays gone weird, but I'll save those for future posts.

Fun facts:

Dogs in heat bleed WAY more during surgery than dogs that aren't in heat. I've been sprayed by them. So keep that in mind.

Cats bleed way less than dogs during surgery. I don't know why. I guess because they are smaller, but it's nice because things don't get quite as slippery.

A pig's tail isn't the only body part that is curly...

Pigs have corkscrew-shaped penises.

Would I lie to you?

This isn't a random fact that I just stumbled upon via internet. Oh no. This is a fact I learned first (lubed up) hand. 

One day when I was job shadowing at my favorite mixed-practice vet clinic, someone brought in a pot belly pig. He wasn't too old yet, and they wanted to have him neutered/castrated. I was pretty excited. It was the first neuter I got to help with that wasn't just a dog or a cat. So we knocked him out (carefully, though, because pigs are more sensitive to sedatives than dogs and cats are) and got him on the surgery table to be prepped, which wasn't very pleasant because he was a pretty stocky little dude and his nether-regions had some unfortunately strong odors emitting from them.

Then in came the vet, who said, "Hey, did you guys know that pigs have corkscrew-shaped penises?" We (the vet assistant and I) shook our heads "no".

"Do you want to see it?" He asked. I enthusiastically shook my head "yes".

So the vet gently tugged the sleeping pig's penis out of its sheath to show us the spiraling action. I thought he'd stop after the first inch or so, but no. He pulled that thing all the way out. It was probably a full 10 inches, which was ridiculous because that pig was only 20-30 pounds.

After we "oooh" and "ahhh" over it for a minute or two, the vet tried to slide it back into the sheath, but it wouldn't go. I guess it got a little dried out while we were examining it, and now, it was stuck. This poor, sleeping pig's 10 inch, flopping, spiraling penis was stuck.

Well, the vet wanted to get started on the testicle removing, so he tossed the vet assistant and I a tube of lubricant and said, "Work that thing back in there, will you?" And to work we went, lubing up the penis and slowly inching it back into its sheath. We may have lubed a little too well because when we finally got done, and it was time to put the pig in a recovery cage, gravity slipped a few inches of the penis back out, but you know.. we did our best.

I still feel a little bad for that pig. He didn't just lose his testicles that day. He also lost his dignity. You could see it in his eyes when he woke up. Poor guy.

Removing testicles. Fun stuff.

The first surgery I ever got to assist with was a neuter, and I loved every second of it. Seriously, if I could just remove testicles from things all day, I would be completely happy. My boyfriend probably doesn't need to know that...

It's just awesome. How could anyone not think that is awesome?

I can't remember if the first one was a dog or a cat because all testicle removing surgeries are pretty much the same, and they are all really simple. Thus far in my career, I have gotten to assist with dog, cat, cow, pig, sheep, lemur, ferret, rat, and camel neuters (some of those are generally referred to as "castration", but whatever). I might have even missed a few animals in there.

Camel castration aftermath.

Anyway. This post is mainly just informative, so when you take your dog or cat or something to the vet to get neutered, you know what's happening (and this might not be 100% correct because all vets do things a little differently, but you'll get the basic idea).

So. Dogs. First, that puppy is popped (given a sedative shot). Then there is this hilarious waiting period when the dog is going down. Hilarious because they do some really weird things. Sometimes creepy things. I was a little disturbed the first time I saw it. Then I got all morbid and found the humor in it. Some dogs just start swaying back and forth and eventually flop over. Some puke. Some try to fight it by going on with their normal doggy business (trying to lick their balls for the last time or something) and then fall over in the middle of it. Some get super stiff and lay on the ground with their legs straight out (that's probably the funniest.. and most disturbing). It's all completely normal, though, I assure you. And on to the next step we go...

The dog is taken to the surgery room and put on gas anesthesia to completely knock them out (with gas mask/intubation). Then they are moved into position (on their backs with their legs spread wide), and their paws are tied down. Last step before the vet comes in (the prep is usually done by vet assistants or techs): prepping the incision area by shaving and scrubbing.

Then a single incision is made (on dogs; cats get one for each testicle, and their incisions are left open after surgery), and the vet pops one testicle out, ties it off, removes it, and then does the same with the other. Pretty easy. The incision is sewn up (usually treated with antibiotic ointment afterward), the dog is given some antibiotics and painkillers, and that's that.

Most vets use gloves, but since the testicles are just under the skin, there is much less chance of infection (at least the serious, fatal kind) than more internal surgeries (like spays, which I'll talk about in another post).

If you want to see the whole thing (because it is pretty cool to watch), here's a video I found on youtube (it's slightly different than the method I explained, but the end result is the same, and it's informative): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qHGm8mDQts

Jin, the disappearing cat.

Four or five years ago, I was given a litter of six kittens to raise. They were probably about 2 weeks old when I got them, so I had to bottle feed them (and let me tell you, that's hard enough to do with just one). I was on a bit of a "Lost" binge, so I named them after the show's characters (Sawyer, Kate, Hurley, Sayid, Sun, and Jin). As they got older, they all ventured off on their own (either to new homes or off into the woods somewhere... I wasn't allowed to make them inside cats, and I try not to think about it, but they probably ended up being coyote food). Except for Jin. 

Such a handsome fellow.

The odd thing about Jin is that when I moved out to go to school, Jin disappeared. We all thought he was dead. But every time I came home for the weekend or for breaks, Jin would just reappear out of nowhere. Then I left, and of course, Jin left, too.

Last time I was home (Thanksgiving break), Jin didn't show up, and I was sure he gone for good. I was pretty bummed, but I tried not to dwell on it. I knew it was just a matter of time.

But I'm winter break now, and guess who showed up last night? I was shocked. The poor guy looks a little ruffled up, but I fully intend to give him the love and attention he deserves for being such a loyal, little creature.

I've debated numerous times about whether or not I should take him to school with me, but I'm afraid he would be unhappy being stuck in a tiny apartment when he is so used to being so free. And Otto is also a problem. They have this creepy love affair going on, and Otto literally humps him raw. And Jin encourages it. It's sad.

And he's a toe nibbler, but I can live with that.

So. If anyone knows someone that might like to take this wonderful guy into their home, let me know. Otherwise, I think that as soon as I'm living in an apartment with more than one room (which is quite cramped with 2 people, 2 dogs, 1 cat, and 1 hedgehog already), I think it will finally be time to force Jin to live with me.

"No" means no, Mr. Wallaby.

Wallabies are weird, man. Especially in the genitalia department.

Example 1: Male wallabies generally have bifurcated penises. I couldn't find a good picture of it for you, so just imagine a snake's tongue in penis form.

Example 2: A wallaby's penis is behind its testicles.

Example 3: Wallaby testicles are huge. And they are mobile. So if a wallaby is just chilling, munching on some greens or whatever, his balls will just flop on the ground (to keep them cooler than the rest of the body for sperm productiony reasons), and it's crazy looking. Then, if the wallaby decides to go for a jump-around, he sucks them up so far that you can't even see them anymore (this mode is to protect his goods). It just blows my mind. It's like a superpower.

See what I mean?

Here's a closer view just because I know you guys find this as fascinating as I do. I mean, who wouldn't? Oh, wait.. that's right.. normal people. They wouldn't.

So why I am I telling you these things? Well. This is why:

One day during the camp's off-season, I was going around taking care of the animals (this was when I first started volunteering there). I went into the wallaby area just minding my own business, cleaning out the automatic water bowl, when a male wallaby hops over. Aussie was his name. I couldn't believe that this wallaby was just coming right up to me, so I yelled out to Alex (who was bottle feeding a camel nearby), "Hey, look how friendly this wallaby is!" Then he got closer. And closer. And then he grabbed me with his little t-rex arms. First I was like, "Oh, this is cool. A wallaby is hugging me." Until that wallaby hug turned into full-on, attempted rape, that is.

I tried pushing him off, thinking "He has little t-rex arms. I can take him." I learned that day that one ought not underestimate t-rex arms. He latched on like he was fighting for his life and kept humping away.

And what was my dear boyfriend doing during this unfortunate event? Laughing. Laughing his stupid, Asian face off. Typical.

I wasn't freed from Aussie's grasp until my boss came out and rescued me. She was quite experienced in deterring horny wallabies.

Later, I learned that not all male wallabies try to rape humans. Just Aussie. Because Aussie had neurological problems. Or something. Something was just not right about him. He had a weird twitchy thing he did, and he was obsessed with sticks. And was horny for humans.

So I just want you to know that unless you meet a wallaby named Aussie, you should be safe from wallaby rape.

My Children.

This post isn't going to be as interesting as dead monkeys and ball sacks, but I feel that it is necessary. A pre-vet student is nothing without her faithful companions. So here they are:

Otto

This is his skeptical face. (Ignore biochem and Netflix in background.)

Breed: Yorkshire Terrier
Nicknames: Toten, Totey, Toad, The Ot, Totenbaum, Toto, etc.
Likes: feet, food, belly rubs, burping in the faces of humans, licking things and leaving horrible breath stench behind, puking slime after not eating all day, cuddling, licking his nonexistent balls, being the center of attention, old people
Dislikes: being left behind, not getting the most attention

I got Otto when he was a puppy, and we have been best friends ever since. He has been by my side for 6 years now, and I don't know what I would do without him (probably turn into the biggest zombie bum in the world and not be able to function). It's a little ridiculous how much he means to me. And awesome news: Otto is working on becoming a certified therapy dog! We are supposed to be evaluated as a team in a couple months!

Dorito

He's not the cutest dog in the world, but he's awesome.

Breed: Chihuahua/Rat Terrier/Min Pin/Dachshund??? Who knows.
Nicknames: Taco, Rito, Rodito, Frito, etc.
Likes: Otto, Bosley, humans that he trusts, playing, eating, running, pooping, licking water off freshly showered legs, nibbling on human scabs, cuddling, playing
Dislikes: strangers (especially men), loud/fast moving things, stepping on cracks

Dorito was rescued from an animal shelter by the camp I worked at over the summer. He was going to be adopted out to a camper, but everyone fell in love with him, and people were fighting over him, so we decided to make him the camp dog. He started out being very shy (he was probably abused in the past), but he made HUGE improvements while at camp, and he has continued to get better. He is just an all around great dog, and I kinda fell in love with him. So instead of leaving him at camp during the off season, I took him home with me, and he has become part of the family. I was worried about it at first because Otto has always been the only dog, but they are best friends, and I can't imagine life without him now.

Bosley

Don't let that innocent look fool you..

Breed: Domestic Shorthair, I guess.
Nicknames: Bos-bos, The Cat, Alex's (my boyfriend's) Cat, Jerk
Likes: Alex, being obnoxious, tearing things up, attacking the dogs, biting the hands that feed him, scratching everything that walks by, farting, catnip, sneaking dog food, toilet water, attacking toes when people are trying to sleep
Dislikes: Jessie, not getting enough food, getting claws stuck on things

My boyfriend and I adopted Bosley from an animal shelter (the same one as Dorito.. I volunteered there for quite a while). I had been wanting a cat for a long time, and Bosley had been there longer than any of the others. He also jumped into my arms when I opened his cage to play with him, so I decided I wanted him. And I don't regret it at all, but he has turned out to be quite the little butthead. He keeps life interesting, I guess, and I love him, so he has a home for life. Unless he keeps growing the way he has been. He's not even a year old, and he is bigger than both of the dogs combined. He's a monster cat.

Shaymin

Hanging out under the coffee table.

Species: African Pygmy Hedgehog
Nicknames: Shaymi, Shay-shay
Likes: darkness, quietness, digging, t-shirts, sneaking out at night with male hedgehogs (when present), mealworms, having babies
Dislikes: baths, being surprised

Shaymin is awesome. As far as hedgehogs go, she is really friendly. She's been well-socialized, though, because I took her to school with me all the time last year. She's not exactly cuddly, but I am quite fond of her. She keeps me company when I do homework sometimes, but you have to keep an eye on her because she likes crawling into cloths (even pants), and it can be painful. Also, if everything went well, she should be popping out some babies in a few days! Don't worry, pictures will come.

Stanley Cornelius

His favorite spot.

Species: Ball Python
Nicknames: Stan
Likes: hanging out under his rock cave, basking in the sun, curling up in Jessie's hair, swallowing mice
Dislikes: not being warm

My mother almost killed me when she found out I got a snake. She said she would have rather I told her I was pregnant or a crack whore, and she was never going to let him in her house. She's gotten over it, though. I mean, she still won't look at him, but I'm proud of her. Stan's the most docile, awesome, little dude. My friend and I are his co-mothers, and we take turns taking care of him. I think he's pretty lucky to have us. When we got him, he was so thin that his skin was wrinkled, and he couldn't shed properly. Now he's healthy as can be. 

The perks of being "The Testicle Collector"...

When I was little, working cows with my grandpas, dad, uncles, cousins, and brothers (I was usually the only girl) was the most amazing, exciting adventure in the world. I loved getting to be that close to the cows. I honestly had dreams about getting to pet them while they were stuck in the head chute, squirming with fear and discomfort. I mean, yeah, I felt bad that they had to go through that, but everyone assured me we were helping them, so I was okay with it (for the most part).

For those of you that are "city folk" and have no idea what I'm talking about, working cows= rounding up the herd into a big pen, running them one-by-one down an alleyway, and catching their heads in a gate so they can't go crazy and hurt anyone while they are getting their vaccinations and dewormer. It is also when they are sprayed with fly spray, dehorned, checked for pregnancy/general health, and, if necessary, castrated. That was my favorite part because I had the best job that there was; I was the testicle collector.

Just so you get the idea..

Why did I collect the testicles, you ask? To give them to people that enjoyed eating them (not my family, don't worry). But that wasn't the most interesting part of my job (they were just slimy, bloody testicles that I threw in a bucket). No, the things I looked forward to the most were the scrotums. 

That's right, people; I liked the ball sacks. 

When castrating a cow (using the "cutting" method), the tip of the bull's ball sack is cut off and tossed aside so the baby producing treasures can be exposed. I don't know if anyone realized I did it, but I collected those ball sack tips right along with the testicles, and then I saved them (wow... I was a scrotum hoarder...). 

Ah, the memories.. (not my picture; don't worry, I always washed the blood off of them before I carried them away)

Organizing them by color, I laid them out on the table on Grandma's porch, and I kept them until someone threw them away or the dogs carried them off. I even named them (I distinctly remember a red one named Henry..). They were my fuzzy, little, scrotum toys, and I played with them for hours. They were just so soft. I cringe a little thinking about it now, but you know how when something is soft, people have the tendency to rub it against their faces? Yeah...I'm pretty sure I did that with my scrotum pieces. I ever so gently rubbed bovine ball sacks on my face. 

This is another one of those things you probably shouldn't tell people if you want to make friends...

Skeletons in my closet? None! But I do have a dead monkey in my freezer..

Just look at that sweet, little face.

Telling people you have a dead monkey in your freezer isn't the greatest way to make friends. I've learned that the hard way. But this story isn't about me and my naivety. It's about a wonderful Marmoset named Marmie. 

I'm not going to lie, Marmie and I had our ups and downs, but I learned to like that little monkey. I would even say that we became friends.

Marmie was one of three Marmosets owned by my previous employers (I worked at a camp with a zoo, and it was the most awesome job ever, but more on that later..). She was purchased to be the mate for Meeko, the big daddy Marmoset with an attitude (a mate-raping, ball-flashing, urine-rubbing, ear-nipping attitude).  I was little worried that he was going to be a jerk to her, but surprisingly enough, Marmie put him in his place. Sometimes she did that a little too well.

Long story short, Marmie kinda became the new big daddy Marmoset with an attitude (and an appetite.. she was kind of a pig). We even thought she was a dude for a while. Then some kind of freak accident happened (after separating the two bickering lovers!), and Marmie broke her back and became paralyzed. Yep. She was a paraplegic monkey.

When we first noticed her dragging her back legs, we thought Marmie might be pregnant, and the growing baby was pinching a nerve or something. This seemed to make sense because she ate so much, and it did look like her abdomen was becoming larger. So that was cool. Until we found out we were wrong.

Marmie couldn't go to the bathroom, and her poop/pee was just collecting inside of her. So we weren't completely wrong about the pregnancy... she just had a poop/pee baby instead of monkey baby. Kinda gross, I know. We learned that riding around in vehicles made her poop and gently squeezing her bladder made her pee, so Marmie became a very high maintenance monkey (as if monkeys aren't high maintenance enough).

My boss took care of her for a while after we found out what was wrong with her, but soon, the camp-owning family went on vacation for a month, and left Marmie in my care. Things were going great. She was starting to eat well again, she seemed happy and alert, and she was even starting to go to the bathroom on her own. And we got pretty tight, that monkey and I. I mean, she still tried to bite me when I had to squeeze out her pee, but any other time, we were cool. She really liked watching tv with me.

And then she died. On her back with eyes wide open and her cute little hands clutching her blanket. No warning. No indication of deteriorating health. And so, feeling shocked, sad, and disappointed, I sealed her up in a ziplock bag and froze her.

She is frozen for a completely logical reason, I assure you: to preserve her body for a necropsy. I just haven't gotten around to doing it yet... so in my freezer she remains until it is time to thaw her out, cut her open, and find out why she died.

RIP Marmie. I miss you, your ear-piercing shrieks, and your creepy, baby food-lapping tongue. 

(My better judgement suggested that I should probably not include a postmortem picture of her. You're welcome.)

Hello Again...

For those of you that have followed this blog since the beginning:

Sorry if I repost a story you have already read. I wanted a fresh start since I've taken such a long break, so I deleted everything. This blog has died and deteriorated, and now I'm putting it back together and bringing it back to life. But don't worry; there will be plenty of new and exciting stories, so don't give up on me!

For everyone else:

Here are a few things you should know about me before we kick this thing off:

• I am socially retarded. I freeze up in many social situations, which tends to give people the impression that I am not very intelligent. Not even "not very intelligent" really... they usually think I'm mentally handicapped. This happens more than I would care to admit.
  
• I love animals more than most people. Especially my dogs, even if they hog my bed and eat cat poop.
• I've lived on a farm my entire life. It's the best thing in the world and has been the setting of many of my adventures. It has also caused much of my weirdness, I'm afraid.
• I'm really weird. I have a weird sense of humor, and I'm not afraid to say penis. You have been warned. (Seriously, don't read this blog if you are easily offended. I will refer to animal genitalia frequently. It's just what I do.)
• I am a pre-veterinary medicine student with a pending vet school application, and I will not be satisfied with my life until I have become a vet. In other words, I'll do whatever it takes to become one, and you can't say "I'll do whatever it takes" without it taking some pretty crazy stuff. Keep reading this blog, and you'll find out just how crazy.

This blog is basically going to chronicle all of my awesome animal adventures. I won't use names of places, so excuse the awkwardness of trying to describe them. I will only use the first names of people that I know won't mind, and the rest will be given awesome fake names.

Also, any suggestions for this blog, story requests, picture requests, questions, or whatever else is very much appreciated, so don't be afraid to comment.

Thanks for reading, and I promise the next post will be more interesting!