I'm a wife and mom to one daughter, and our suburban home plays host to various pets...some of which people may think strange to consider 'pets'.
For instance the 35 year old tortoise named Geraldine, currently
hibernating on the floor of the kitchen pantry. I'll know when it's time
to take her outside again when she starts knocking over the spaghetti.
Ah, Spring! With my luck that'll be at 3AM and I'll assume it's a hungry
Another strange aspect of our pets is the flock of chickens in the back
yard, who routinely march in any door open for more than 3 seconds and
then tour the house looking for food items dropped by my 4 year old
daughter. One of the hens made sure she was remembered this year by
sneaking up on one of my sisters and knocking a plateful of birthday
cake out of her hands and onto the bird's feathers. Pink icing! No
surprise then, that that particular hen's name is 'Bear'. I was going to
name her that or 'Obstacle'. You get the picture. What Bear REALLY
wants to do is become Queen of the House Chickens and live inside all of
the time. Usually she decides she wants this right after a dust bath
when her feathers are loaded with dirt. For those who don't know, sooner
or later a chicken will remember that their feathers are loaded with 40
pounds of dirt and they will shake themselves like a wet dog. Hilarity
(and some swearing) ensues as clouds of dust fill the air and small
sticks and stones ricochet off of the cabinetry. Watching chickens is
better than watching TV!