Precious Pet Stories


Precious Pet Stories

Oh Snitz!

Our beloved and precious Snitz was a vivacious goldfish with volumes of get up and go and a heart as big as all get out. Her high-spirited antics and fuzzy little carbonated smile would keep us all aglow through many a hard time.

That is why when our cat, Fritz, knocked over Snitz’s water and played with Snitz until she was just a limp little reminder of better days, we rushed right out and bought another goldfish.

And even though we have another vivacious goldfish with volumes of get up and go and a heart as big as all get out, we did learn a good lesson.

You really can’t tell one goldfish from another.

Snitz was one (or possibly 450,000) in a million!

A Skunk by Any Other Name

I named my pet skunk Trouble because I could smell him a mile away.

At first I thought it would be cool to name him Maltese in memory of my pet falcon. But then I thought there really wasn’t much similarity between my pet falcon and my pet skunk except they both came running when I called “here kitty, kitty.”

I’ll never forget the day I found Trouble in the park. There was something in his air and manner of walking . . . I knew he had to be mine. I quickly snatched him up and ran down the path and into the street where I was hit by a bus.

Not the exact bus that hit me but one god awful like it.

Trouble flew out of my arms and landed 5,280 feet away and that’s when I noticed that even though all my arms and legs were broken, I could still smell Trouble. So I guess my choice of names was right on!

Oh Danny Boy

I know it has been said that a hamster by any other name would be a rodent and there was a time when I would have agreed with that. That is until Danny saved my life. I was hiking in the Rockies at the time. Of course, I took Danny along because he was a hunting hamster with papers.

I had just sat down to catch my breath when I saw a coiled rattler only inches from Danny and me.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was just the rattler and me. It seems a hawk had swooped down and got poor Danny. As I watched him dangle from the hawk’s powerful talons, I stood up to give Danny a farewell salute.

Just then the rattler bit me. And that’s when Danny . . . wait a minute . . . well, never mind about the part where I said Danny saved my life.

Thanks for nothin’ Danny.

Until next time . . . I love you

40 thoughts on “Precious Pet Stories

  1. Dear Linda, knowing the sex of your goldifsh is a real skill I would think. And I would have to agree when you can smell Trouble you certainly are in trouble. You don’t have a lot of success with animals do you? Have you consider knitting as a less harmful activity?

  2. Well…. I will agree that MOST goldfish you can’t tell the difference but the only pets I had growing up were two goldfish Jack and Jill…. who lived in a small glass bowl for 7+ years and were totally irreplaceable… ‘we would have known the difference’…. Of course when you look at two goldfish for that many years ….. You’ve rekindled a memory!….. I have to tell you a story… My mother had to work two jobs ..one late at night and she came home around 2 am and Jack and Jill were floating on top of the water… She changed the water and stirred it so the oxygen would revive the fish and she succeeded… and btw was up for her day job at around 6 am the next morning…. Diane

  3. Perhaps next you should just get a pet brick.
    Sure, you can’t take it for walks, and it won’t come when you call (often), but it just might be safer for everyone involved.

    Just keep him away from construction sites…

  4. A hamster of any other bane would be a rodent. Oh Mumsy you are to clever for words (or at least MY words anyway).

    I hope you do a post about our poor hamsters which perished by Lucy, cold weather, and Adam next time!

  5. That’s it – I’m giving up pets. We used to have a little frog named Kermit (what else would we call him?) who lived in our kitchen. He would sit on the window sill above the stove and watch Connie cook dinner. One night, when she was boiling water for spaghetti, Kermit decided to go for a swim. Bad decision. He made a pretty rubbery meatball too.

    • LOL! Ah poor little Kermit. It’s stories such as your that not only make me want to give up pets, but also make me never want to order frog if I ever go to France. I wonder if Big Bird would be better eating . . .

  6. I bought a set of pet mushrooms once from Pottery Barn. And they sure looked good sprinkled around on my PB Forest Floor Pine Needle Shag Carpet.

    But then one night Al Gore stopped over to borrow some OnYums. (Borrow… yeah right, Al!) I was only out in the kitchen for a few seconds, but… after he left (munching noisily and trailing crumbs), I noticed my pet mushrooms were gone…

    I think I know what happened.

    And I hope something disgusting grows on his greasy tongue… : P

    • Hahaha! Thank you Mark for warning me. When I open up the next Pottery Barn Catalog and find Al Gore’s tongue I’ll know why. That Al. You really have to keep your doors bolted! I hear he’s worse than Yogi Bear when it comes to stealing pic-a-nick baskets in people’s kitchens! He can smell Funyuns several continents away!

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