Your life freaking ends 2 seconds from now

"Christ on a cracker" well actually I think you'll find Christ is the cracker. And also the wine. But you wouldn't know that you fucking protestant heathen

painted for the first time on paper in over a decade?

I... I just had to

You did god’s work.

Character who is shown to be a strategic and analytical mastermind in every scene cannot figure out that the two lesbians sitting next to each other are very madly in love

do you boop your paw at us, sir?

i do boop my paw, sir

do you boop your paw at us, sir?

is the law of our side if i say aye?

no.

No, sir, I do not boop my paw at you sir; but I boop my paw, sir.

Do you quarrel, sir?

Quarrel, sir? No, sir.

If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a cat as you.

This can't hide in the replies... everyone needs to see this

dunmesh x hades

morally grey/evil scientist characters are always like biochemical engineers or nuclear physicists or whatever but the people want VARIETY give me a story about a fucked up geologist for once

Mom Adopts a “Dog”

So y’all keep blowing up my notes with the various Family Lore stories I’ve been telling, so I guess I should tell one on my parents now.

My Mother’s Father was part of the United Auto Worker’s Union, and during the 50′s and 60′s, was on strike a lot. My point is, grandpa got himself an entirely deserved reputation for being a sucker who loved animals, so people would dump thier pets on him. Hence, my mother grew up in a house with pets such as Picket the one-eyed tomcat, Tweety the Bald canary, Dummy the cat, Stupid Son of Dummy, Spooky Garbage Dog and Chiquita the Tarantula.  Eventually Grandma put her foot down when Grandpa brought home Gerta the Saint Bernard.

I say all this because it provides some context for how the following occured.

Mom and Dad had just moved in together (my parents dated for six years and were engaged for 13 days, driving everyone on both sides insane), and unfortunately, My mother’s German Shepherd, Cops, has just passed away due to bone cancer.  After mourning for a bit, Mom and Dad decided to get a dog together, as a couple.  

For context, my father had never owned a dog in his life.  His mother had ‘Pretty Bird” the budgie as a child but parrots are alien life forms, not pets.

So they go to the Palo Alto Animal shelter to adopt.  The year was 1987, and at the time, Palo Alto was… not a great place.  Lots of drugs, gangs and poor civic managment.  Mom told me that she learned to identify different types of gunfire while living there. They get there, and mom explains that she’s always had a preference for Big Dogs, and the guy’s face lights up.  Oh Yes, he says, We have a Big Dog.  For expirienced owners, yep, adoptable today, here we’ll give you a discount even-

Somehow my parents were not suspicious about this.

They were shown to the Animal in question, a Gorgeous blue-sable beastie with pretty golden eyes who immediately pressed herself against the fence and gave them the best PUH-LEEEEEEASE TAKE ME HOME puppy eyes 100lbs of canine can do.  Mom and Dad fall in love instantly.  They sign all the paperwork and take her home for $10, and name her “Mazel” as in “Mazel Tov.”

Within the hour, it becomes clear that something is amiss.

Cops had lived with his kibble stored in a plastic garbage can in the garage for six years without incident.  Mazel figured out how to open doors and got the locking lid off the can in six minutes, horking down about four pounds of the stuff before my mother notices that it’s been weirdly quiet.  Most dogs bark at or chase squirrels.  Mazel stalked and caught one the second day, presenting it to my mother like an offering.  Mazel knew all her commands but would clearly stop to consider before obeying, and trained my dad to give her good treats within a week.  The locks on the side-yard gate were undone, and she took a stroll around the neighborhood, but always retuned home for dinner.

After a week of gradually realizing that Mazel was smarter than most of the professors my mom worked with, they took her to the Vet for a routine checkup.

Dr. Hamada walked into the exam room, dropped the clip-board and said “Where the HELL did you get a Wolf?”

After a bit of prodding and a very-angry-dr.hamada-calling-the-pound, they determined Mazel was a high-content hybrid, probably with a husky, but was going to be a lil shit her entire life.  OK, said Hamada, I don’t like destroying animals and you’ve got a lot of expirience with dogs, so I’m okay with letting you keep her, but you should keep her away from small children because her Prey Drive could kick in.

Two years later, mom got pregnant with me.

Mazel noticed instantly, and reacted by digging a large hole in the yard and catching even more squirrels for mom, because she needed the protein or something.  That what you do when the Alpha Bitch is preggers, right?  Dig a den and ply her with food?  On the advice of my grandmother, my mom stayed overnight at the hospital once I was delivered, and dad went home with a shirt that had moms and my scent on it.  Mazel spent the whole night puzzling over it.

The next morning, when mom came home with me, there was the sudden and instantaneous recognition of PUPPY!!!!!! :D:D:D!!!!! PUUUUUUUPPY!!!!!!  and Mazel turned into the most aggressively maternal being I’ve ever met.  Playing with me on the blanket, sitting under my chair at meals (I was a messy eater), sleeping under my crib, teaching me to walk by letting me hang onto her fur and shuffle around.

Dr. Hamada thought mom was a madwoman, until he saw me holding Mazel’s mouth open and sticking my face in so i could look at her teeth.  He gave up when my mom announced she was pregnant with my sister.

I’m making living with a Wolfdog sound awesome, but it did come with some drawbacks:

PROS of growing up with a wolfdog, as a small child in the 90′s

When she was 17, Mom and Dad decided to add another room on to the house.  They rigged up the overhead tether so she could be outside but not underfoot for the contruction guys.  One morning, mom came out to notice them all milling in the side yard entrance, muttering worriedly.  When mom asked what was wrong, one of them explained that Carlos forgot to bring the Hamburger.  What do you need a hamburger for?  Asked mom, and they pointed down the side yard to where Mazel was sitting, doing her best Viscious Alpha Bitch Stare.

Apparently they’d never realized that she was on the VERY end of her tether there and couldn’t actually get to them, and had been scamming them for a big mac a day for a month.  Mom had my six-year-old sister pull her away to show she wasn’t dangerous and tired her best not to laugh but kind of failed.

Mazel ended up living to be 19 and a half, and except for some minor arthritis, remarkably hale until the day she passed away in her hole in the back yard while taking a nap.  I maintain that Death had to wait until she was sleeping to get a crack at her, or she would’ve taken his scythe for a chew toy.

My housemate reminded me of a flashbulb memory I have that I really wish I had a photograph of because it would be a magnificent image to inflict on the internet at large with Zero Context, but I'll try to describe it here, and then draw it after dinner.

Image Description:

As seen from about three feet off the ground: Interior, the den of an american suburban house built at the height of the atomic age and still decorated like it years later. There's dark wood paneling about halfway up the walls that offsets the almost neon pink-orange light of late sunset visible through the large window. Every object in the room is highlighted by the last of the sunlight. The only other light in the room is a TV set that was manufactured the same year Howdy Doody debuted on air, now broadcasting PBS Newshour in black and white.

Closest to the viewer, there is a small end table with a Nearly Full Martini glass, and a Half-empty glass Martini Pitcher, indicating that two of the five martinis it holds have been poured out.

Just behind it, an old man sits in a chair that was bright green and yellow when it was new but is now more Grellow. The man is in his mid-sixites, somewhat heavyset, with a full head of snow-white hair and thick glasses. He's wearing a dark brown tweed suit with leather elbow patches, and a white cotton button-up. He's watching the news with a calm and dispassionate demeanor. Tired, but still engrossed with the world's events. He's wearing dark brown penny loafers and garish argyle socks.

Behind him is a couch that is a matched set with the armchair, with the same Grellow chevron pattern, but there is a very large crochet afghan that has been spread out over the back to be decorative and maybe protect the couch from it's current occupant: a 120lb Wolf Hybrid.

She's seated lengthwise on the couch, like she had also been watching PBS Newshour, posed like a sphynx. She's close in wieght to the man, and definitely taller than him if she stands up, with a dark gray agouti coat and a bit of white countershading from the trace of domestic dog in her. She's turned her head to the viewer, bright yellow eyes focused on them, and the fur of her head and neck haloed with the sunset. She is pleased to see the veiwer, which means most of the teeth in her lower jaw are visible in her canine grin. The effect is very menacing if you don't know her.

Clutched rather neatly between her front paws is a second, identical martini glass, only not nearly quite so full as the old man's.

Title: "Oh, I didn't think you'd be back for another hour/GODDAMIT EDWIN"

So the Context for this is that this was the third or fouth time this had happened.

The FIRST time was when my parents decided to take a long weekend up in Mendecino to concieve me. It's apparently highly unusual for people to know within a 72-hour window of when they were created, much less what album their parent's packed (Paul Simon's Graceland) but I have to say, the amount of forethought and planning that went into my creation makes me feel very loved.

One of the things they had to Plan was for someone to watch the "Dog". Mazel had already been banned from two pet daycares and forsaken from three different petsitting services and most of my parent's coworkers in the two years that they had had her, mostly because she was distressingly smart, extremely good at leaving anywhere she did not want to be, and was entirely willing to take people with her when she wanted to go.

She was, however, exceptionally fond of my grandparents, probably because my grandfather could make friends with anyone, and my grandmother was also That Bitch (TM) when needed so Mazel felt very secure that Grandma could handle any REAL problems that might occur, so she was free to manipulate grandpa into doing whatever she wanted. Like going to the extremely expensive Golf Course nearby and letting her stalk the Bourgeoisie for fun.

Now, my grandfather was never drunk in front of his children, absolutely never got behind the wheel of a car if he was not 100% alert and was one of the gentlest souls on the planet, but he lived before they invented SSRI's and so he coped with the Depression, ADHD and PTSD he never talked about by coming home from work, sitting down in His Chair and drinking an entire pitcher of Martinis while he watched the news.

It's what passed for Self-Care the 1950's.

Anyway, before they left, Mom happened to mention to Grandpa that Mazel sometimes liked to sit on the couch and watch the news with her, so don't be surprised if she wants to do that with you.

What my grandfather apparently heard was "She's a sociable creature, you should be sociable too, and in the style of a Silent Generation Irish-American Man, pour the nice lady a drink as well :)"

Both my parents lectured Grandpa extensively about how YOU SHOULD NOT GIVE DOGS ALCOHOL, AT ALL, EVER! WE DON'T CARE IF SHE DIDN'T SEEM TO FEEL IT!!

What my grandfather apparently heard was "It's fine but you shouldn't worry your daughter-in-law while she is carrying your first grandchild, so just don't tell her next time :)"

A few years later my parents took another trip to Mendecino to make my sister and I spent three days with one of my parent's friends and her pet macaw that gave me a permanent and entirely justified fear of parrots, but they came back, collected me and took me with them to collect Mazel. We made startlingly good time for California Traffic, and I, age three, sprinted into the house to see my beloved Lupine Guardian, to be greeted with the scene described above.

Granpa, realizing he'd been caught in the act, decided to pretend the thing my parents were turning red about was him not meeting them at the door and not, say, the fact he'd been lightly poisoning Mazel or the prospect of having to take a drunk wolf to an unfamiliar vet, said "Oh sorry, I thought you wouldn't be here for another hour!"

Which is how I learned my grandpa's middle name was "Richard" and that you could all-three-names an adult if you wanted to, which is an unholy amount of power for an autistic preschooler to have.

(I decided it looked a bit like an Album Cover, so I made it one. Feat songs like "Three-name family" and "Pebble Beach Predator Bedlam")

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A male common agama (Agama agama) basking on a rock in Cameroon, Africa

by Bernard Dupont

spikey knight

This was the most dreamy experience ive ever had. It was so beautiful!!!!!!!

How is anyone supposed to be normal after that. G-d looked back at me for a minute

this is such a hack joke but i had to make it