It's Thanksgiving weekend in Canada.
This means that we do 30 hours of work to do 30 minutes of eating.
I know I sound bitter, and I probably shouldn't, but I really, really, really, really, really hate family get-togethers. The only reason that this one doesn't have me cursing --yet-- is because one of my aunts (Aunt Ditz) and her trio of spawn and duo of grandspawn aren't coming. A warning: I may be about to get offensive here, so the faint of heart who are not familiar with my rants should probably stop reading right now.
One of my cousins, C, is younger than I am, and she has two children. One of them about two years, two months (D-1), and the other's just an infant (D-2). I am not good with children. I do not like them, I do not want them, and I will not ever have them. Which is fine, you're probably saying, my choices have nothing to do with hers and they really don't impact me.
So let's take this further. I've done some animal rescue: two of my current zoo are rescues. One of them, Max, is a cockatiel and no cause for concern (although he can bite through leather work gloves. Seriously.). He is extremely hand-shy and aggressive, and I only take him out if it's just me, so I can do his nails and wings, and maybe sit with him for a bit in my bedroom just to interact with him, where he's fine if there are no hands anywhere. His former cagemate, Rocky, was also a rescue, but he's gone to the Rainbow Bridge from a heart attack/stroke/seizure some years ago. He fell from a perch and broke his neck on the fall, and died a few minutes later in my hands.
So that brings me to my second (living, technically third) rescue project. Grady. He is a massive chocolate lab that is made of pure sinew and nervous energy. He was seriously abused in his previous home, has had to have three surgeries on a luxated patella that still freezes up for twenty minutes or so randomly, and has a "it ain't much, but it's MINE" mentality. This is a dog...
[ Continued ]