A little update on my personal life

I've been writing less than I'd like to; I have loads of notes and ideas, but when I have the time to write, I don't have the energy, and vice versa. Hurricane season is always a rough time for people with problems like fibromyalgia, arthritis, and similar issues, as, even up here in New York State, we experience the rapid progression of pressure changes that wreak havoc with joints and sinuses.

Additionally, I've had a very busy month with my business; when I'm not directly involved with a client, I still have to do promotion, taking care of the animals, and fielding requests to adopt unwanted reptiles. We JUST took in a beautiful adult Savannah monitor, and while I'm glad we will have him for presentations, it means I have another cage to build or buy, another type of food to keep on hand, and more poop to scoop (and boy, is it some nasty poop!). We also adopted some blue-tongue skinks, and we'll be working on a breeding project for them, and we've been asked to take in an adult boa constrictor, which I may decide against.

Of course, we're still fostering cats and kittens, and at one point in the past month, we actually had eleven fosters total, including the family of cats and kittens mentioned in this post. I am very happy to say that the situation discussed in that post worked out very well. The head of the rescue bent a few rules so that we could help those cats, and we were able to find homes for all of them! The family did want one of the cats returned to them after her kittens were weaned and she was spayed, which is something we don't usually do, but that particular mama cat really wanted to be with her original family anyway--she was very happy and relieved when I brought her back to her people. One of the kittens turned out to be deaf (as are 60-80% of white cats with blue eyes), and was adopted by a wonderful young woman who has experience living with a deaf cat. Two of the cats were adopted by another friend of mine, and they integrated very nicely into her family. The remaining kittens were adopted by great folks, and it's all worked out very well.

There have been ups and downs, of course. In the past week, both I and the foster coordinator ended up with FIV positive cats in end-stage liver failure. If we hadn't been there for those cats, they probably would have died alone and outside, slowly and painfully; instead, we were there to give them loving hands until the very end. Our boy purred from the moment we met him to the moment he passed, despite the fact that he must have been feeling terrible. We gave him love, and received his love, and that, really, was all he'd wanted in his last moments. I have no regrets about meeting him and being there for him; our time with him was a gift to both him and us.

Finally, we currently have five very crazy, bouncy, purry, adorable kittens. We kept them for an extra few days to make sure they were healthy; I don't like sending them out for adoption right after they're spayed and neutered if I haven't had them in my care before--I'd rather hang on to them and wait to see if they have an upper respiratory infection or some other issues, than send them home with an adopter potentially ill. So, until Saturday, we have some WILD THINGS in the foster room!

Things here have been busy, but not really bad, just lots of stuff going on. I've been neglecting my poor camera, so I don't have any decent pictures of the babies to share. I do have a lot on my mind to write about, and when I've got my head together, I'll put together some decent blog posts for y'all. I hope everyone is doing great out there.

For the love of snakes

A few days ago, a gentleman in Texas had his beautiful boa contrictor stolen from his car. After searching high and low, and offering a reward for her return, he received an anonymous phone call that led him to her destroyed body. She had been bludgeoned with rocks, then torn in half.

I'd imagine that whoever swiped her had no idea what they were stealing when they grabbed the bag from the seat of the man's car. He'd left the window open as he went into the Circle K to get a coffee. Less than two minutes passed betweent the time he parked and the time he came back to his vehicle. It was probably some stupid piece of shit looking for guns, money, or drugs. Instead, the thief opens a bag containing an 8-foot-long albino boa constrictor. I suppose for a non-snake-lover, that is probably shocking.

However, no matter how much you fear snakes, the entitlement a person feels to kill someone else's beloved pet simply because they didn't know what they were getting into when they ROBBED that someone's car, is really galling. They had choices they could have made at that point--they could have closed the bag and dropped it somewhere, snake intact. They could have anonymously left it on the doorstep of a pet store. Instead, they CHOSE to torture and kill it, for no reason except perhaps their own fear, or their own amusement.

I know that many people do not understand that some of us really love and have relationships with our snakes. Maybe you're afraid of them, and you don't like them, but we do not feel the same way you do. We have invested time, and love, and care into making these animals a part of our lives. We know their individual quirks, their personalities (yes, they DO have personalities), and the physical things that make them different from others of their kind. I look into Julian's yellow eyes, and watch his black tongue flicking, and I feel warm and fuzzy inside. I watch someone hold Tez, my Honduran milk snake, and they soften from anxiety to delight, as they enjoy his gentle movements over their arms, and they realize that they have overcome some of their deepest fears. I have seen Gregor go from terrified face-biter to simply wary and mildly trusting, after he learned that we, unlike his previous owners, meant him no harm.

They do have personalities. We DO love them. Even if you can't imagine that, at least respect it--snakes don't deserve abuse and destruction any more than other, more "charismatic" pets, and their owners don't deserve to suffer their loss, no matter how weird or creepy you think liking snakes is.

Friday

It's Friday, so instead of writing something, I'm just going to post some pictures I've taken recently.

My festivum cichlid:


Aakhu, my ebony ticked silver ocicat:


Gumballs!


Ptera (white) and Anya (ginger), my kittens:


Steel-cut oats:


Brian cuddling with foster kitten Owl:


Awesome tofu stir fry I made the other day:


Ptera and Anya's paws--Ptera has extra toes!

The Kitten Whisperers?

Yesterday, we had a wonderful breakthrough with Owl. I went in to spend time with him, pulled his growling, hissing little body onto my lap, and started petting him. Previously, he would grrrrr grrrr ssssssss at us. The growling ceased, and I heard a strange popping noise that evened out into a loud, contented purrrrrrrr! He began rubbing his face on my hands and feet (I was sitting cross-legged), and he eventually rolled over to get belly rubs.

When he was done being social, he climbed down from my lap and went back into the little box I set up for him. The box is on its side, so he has a roof and three walls, and I put in a a big fleece shirt that I'd worn before putting it into the box. The shirt's presence was to help him get accustomed to my scent, and he spends most of his time curled up on or in it.

Before this breakthrough, the little doll would try to make himself as small as possible, tucking his head downward to glare at us. We were certain that the only body parts he was capable of moving were his eyeballs, because he wouldn't move anything else, even when we picked him up! Now he will walk, eat, play, and do all kinds of things in our presence. It was a glorious moment indeed when Owl leaned up to rub his cheeks on my face!

I have a few pictures of his adorableness, and one video to share with you of him getting cuddles from Brian. He spent a lot of yesterday evening lolling about on Brian's chest, getting cuddles and belly rubs.

I do want to say one thing about this. I was really worried that maybe he was not quite right somehow. His proportions are a little odd, and his behavior was really weird. Instead of aggression, he was just a tight ball of fear. We hadn't made a millimeter of progress with him, and yesterday afternoon, I was in my room, thinking about our beloved Teya. I asked her, if she was still with us in spirit, if she would help Owl to trust us and be happy. I don't mean to offend anyone who has different beliefs, but it was not even an hour after that when he completely changed his behavior. When he climbed back into his box after purring at me, I thanked Teya out loud for her help.

Now, on to the pictures and video!

(Click on these pictures if you want to see larger ones)



I did take a couple more videos, but I have not yet uploaded them; my computer has been super-wonky lately, and it was acting freaky while I was trying to get these uploaded. I'll get them in and post them at a later date :)

As to the title of this post, I wrote to Robin (the founder and namesake of the rescue) to tell her the good news, and got this response:
"This is fabulous news! You and Brian are the kitten whisperers!"

Maybe--but, I will give the credit to the unseen helper as well.

Rituals of loss

She's gone, on the couch, covered in a cream-colored towel. My favorite towel, soft and thick. Our kitty, his kitty first; our beautiful black cat named Teya, who was only nine years young. Too soon.

Brian's outside, digging her resting place, a spot against the house, by the kitchen; she'll be as close to us as possible.

I awoke around 3:15am, after having slept several hours. I had encouraged Brian to spend the night on the couch with her. She had looked not too bad when we brought her home; a little shaky, but perked up, and she was willing to eat.

I'm moving around the house, searching for the right container. A cardboard box will not do. I find a piece of upholstery fabric from the couch, her favorite place to hang out, and I tuck it under my arm, along with some black felt.

He's running hot water to melt the ground. The stump from a catalpa sapling is in the middle of where he's digging, and it's being stubborn. We'd had to cut it down; it was not thriving, and ants were making it worse. It's too bad; I love catalpa trees.

I came downstairs after waking up and asked how she was. Brian said she'd moaned a lot throughout the night. I sat at my desk so I could drink some water and take a Vicodin. I wish she could have had something like it; I knew she was in pain.

I glide down to the basement, my long skirt swirling around my bare feet. I'd been looking for a certain box, but my eyes settled on another one--a better one. A wicker box that I've had for nine years, with a brass clasp. It's big enough that she won't be cramped, but not too big. The box goes upstairs with me.

He's digging away at the stump. I go outside to check on him, and we come up with the idea to use the kitchen sprayer to get hot water onto the frozen ground instead of trekking buckets in and out. He helps me pop out the screen, and we give that a try. It works.

I sat with her, and I tried gently to give her the medicine, but she's not having it. There was something about the way she's clenching her jaw that just seemed wrong. She'd been sleeping, and I had awakened her. We stroked her and held her feet, her head, her ears. I cried, while Brian just touched her. She started to cry out in deep howls that seem to take every effort, and her breathing was labored, so I called the vet's emergency number. We were instructed to take her to the emergency clinic in Latham, so I gave them a call.

I'm taking time out to sob uncontrollably. We're out of facial tissue, so I'm having to use paper towels. Tip: Bounty paper towels are less scratchy than toilet paper.

He's still digging. It's cold and sleeting a bit. It's 5:30 in the morning.

I threw on some clothing; a favorite skirt, and a sweater over my chemise. I brought him a shirt when I came down. He got his shoes on, and he was getting some things together. I looked at her, and I called him into the room. I told him to turn on the light, which he did. I told him to sit down on the other side of her. He looked at me, and sat down. Her breath was coming in gasps, and she'd stopped crying out. I took hold of her paw, her beautiful front paw, with the wrist shaved from her IV the night before.

I line the wicker basket with wax paper, then with the black felt. I tuck a red towel in, then scoop her up and gently settle her into the basket. It's tearing me to shreds. I fold the ends of the towel over her, then close the lid without latching it.

He's nearly done. He scoops the water out of the hole and pours it downhill a bit. I go outside to check on him, and ask him to come in and see.

We had our hands on her, and we told her we loved her, and that we were sorry, so sorry. I cried and cried. She stopped breathing, and had a couple of convulsions. Her pupils became dilated. We tried to close her eyes, without much success. We stroked her for a while after that, not ready to let go. Never ready.

We open the box, and stroke her fur for the last time, saying goodbye. I'm nearly throwing up with grief. He's so stoic, so strong, and I'm a wreck. I tuck in a packet of food, and he puts a couple pieces of bread in the container. Bread is her favorite thing to steal. I also tuck in a towel anointed with violet oil. The lid closes, and is latched.

We went outside with the box and lowered it into the grave. Brian removed it, wanting to dig just a little deeper. While he shoveled, I went inside to get the bulbs I'd procrastinated about planting. When he was satisfied with the depth, he had to climb in to place the box on the bottom. He refilled the hole slowly, and when he was nearly done, I sprinkled the bulbs over the disrupted soil. He put a layer of soil over them, and I went inside and returned with a partial bag of cypress mulch, which we spread over the ground.

We came inside; I made tea to warm us, and I sent him off to shower. If I was cold, I didn't feel it. If I was hurting physically, I wasn't aware. And I did the only thing I know to soothe my soul: I sat down and began to write. And now, I'm done.

Book Review: The Nine Emotional Lives of Cats by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

The Nine Emotional Lives of Cats: A Journey Into the Feline Heart by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson: A review

The very first thing I must say about this book, because it is the most important, is that the author is horrifically irresponsible in not just advocating cats living outdoors, but also claiming that it is cruel to not allow them unsupervised access to the outside world. The reasons this is a bad thing are myriad and well-documented, including danger to the cats in the form of cars, predators, incurable diseases for which there are no vaccines, and, most disturbingly, sick and cruel humans who torture and kill cats. Additionally, cats do a number on local wildlife, and in places like the author's home, many native species do not stand a chance against domestic cat predation.

Masson also talks about his cats roaming the neighborhood, entering his neighbors' property and homes, and he has been informed of their unwelcomeness. Neighbors who do not take kindly to trespassing cats are a step away from poisoning the animals or carting them off to an animal control facility, yet this does not seem to faze Masson at all.

I was also quite disgusted with the author's descriptions of his previous cats. One set of cats was dumped somewhere because of the ubiquitous excuse, "We had to move, and couldn't take them with us." If you're planning to move, then don't acquire pets that cannot come with you. It isn't fair to the animals to get attached to you and their home, and then for you to just shove them off to another life. It's a huge, stressful adjustment, and many cats do NOT handle it well. As a rescue volunteer and cat foster parent, I can't tell you how many times this happens--and with a little planning, it could be completely avoided.

The other cats the author had prior to his current set were squished on the road. The author's response to this seems to be nonchalant, as he blithely declares it "natural" to let cats roam outdoors. When that "natural" world involves roads and cars, though, it's just plain irresponsible and stupid to let them out. How do you think kitty felt as he lay dying on the side of the road? How do you think the driver felt after hitting him? Just because you aren't creative and attentive enough to provide enrichment for an indoor cat? That's just fabulous. Oh, and did I mention that mutt cats aren't good enough for Mr. Masson; he's got to buy expensive purebreds--the squished cats were both Abyssinians. Why spend all that money on a cat whose life you are willing to just throw away anyway?

The other huge problem I had with this book is that apparently Masson's publisher is too afraid of him to have an editor read the damn thing before sending it to the printer. He frequently makes a firm, declarative statement, then completely contradicts the statement two pages later. Any decent editor would have spotted these errors immediately and called him on it. On one page, for example, he claims that cats only purr to communicate with other cats: "Cats do not purr by themselves, which would seem to mean that they do not purr for themselves, either, but for us and for each other, and even for other animals they like." I rolled my eyes at this, knowing that there are many documented cases of sick, injured, or frightened cats purring to comfort themselves. Heck, if you want to get anecdotal about it (which is Masson's favorite form of fact-finding), our Morgan will purr furiously in the vet's office because she's so frightened. So, imagine my surprise when he changes his mind three pages later, stating exactly that: "Veterinarians know that cats also purr when they are in distress. The predominant explanation is that they are self-medicating...We can liken it to when we hum or sing a tune to ourselves..." There are other similar contradictions, including one where he claims that catnip's influence is sex-related, then claims on the same page that it is not sex-related. Good grief.

There was also a fundamental lack of real research. There are claims made that are just plain false, such as "Cats rarely attempt to eat [catnip]." I don't know what cats he has been around, but most cats that are affected by catnip (which is about 1/3 of them, not 1/2 as Masson claims, except in Australia, where the gene for catnip appreciation is relatively rare due to a limited gene pool) do eat it. Another misrepresentation of facts occurs on page 70, where he says that, "[the nictitating membrane] is also found in sharks, owls, and polar bears, who use it to prevent snow blindness." Not only does the sentence appear to say that all of these animals use it to prevent snow blindness, but it is very misleading--it would have been better for him to say that fully functional nictitating membranes are found commonly in birds, reptiles, fish, and amphibians, but less so in mammals. This is just one small example in a book rife with contradictions and poorly represented facts.

I was very disappointed in the book's structure as well. The "nine emotions", a number selected for cleverness rather than anything resembling reality, are arbitrarily named--and with the very first one, narcissism, the author concludes that it doesn't even apply to cats! If it doesn't apply, then why not replace it with another that was not represented, such as embarrassment or sadness?

The book has some cute pictures, and there are some interesting anecdotes, but I really would not recommend this book for information or facts--or to gain any kind of insight into cats' emotions. Masson's point of view is very limited, as his clan of cats at the time of writing this book were young ones, and it does not seem that he has ever had a cat long enough to observe the change of personality and behavior they experience as they age. If you are looking for a good solid book on cat behavior and evolution, I recommend The Tribe of Tiger by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas. If you're looking for something a little more personal, perhaps a book exploring the relationship between cat and human, The Feline Mystique: On the Mysterious Connection Between Women and Cats by Clea Simon is a pretty good read--she describes her cat's journey from kitten to senior and beyond, and explores the relationship between women and cats. Men need not fear this book, however, as it would decently apply to the sensitive, gentle type of men who love cats.

KITTENS!

I haven't been posting lately. Instead of staying inside with the blinds down like a good little fatty, sparing the fragile eyesight of fat-haters, I've been BUSY!

I have been volunteering with a local cat rescue. I participated in their craft fair ("Holiday Furry Frenzy"! Cute!) and have been fostering kittens. Kittens have attracted guests, so I've entertained company many days this past week, spending a lot of time cooking, making tea, baking things for guests to have with tea, and enjoying life (how dare I).

I also had seven more snakes land in my lap this weekend. Long story, to be told later, with pictures.

But, the best reason for this post is, KITTENS! Kittens are good for the soul. They're entertaining, endearing, warm, purry, furry, appreciative of love, and, most of all, in need of help. I was more than happy to open my home to these fuzzy, cute passers-through, and they have provided many photo ops! So, onward with the pictures!

Ptera with her extra toeses:






Charlotte, fluffy and cuuuute and sweet as pie:



(she's such a little princess)

Anya on top of Charlotte; Charlotte tends to let everybody pile on. Anya doesn't have many pics because she is the super active one, and she is a blur most of the time:


My beautiful, wonderful, cat-loving, sweet, cuddly, uber-hawt husband with all three:


A man who loves cats is a man worth keeping.

He can't be this old!

My best friend and soulmate turned nine today. Aakhu, my beloved ocicat, is the best companion a girl could ever want. He has been there for me through thick and thin, and my life would have been crap without him in it.

I had to take some photos to mark his special day!

Cats are ridiculous

So, the spouse and I were away for MAYBE 36 hours total this weekend. Our very kind, gentle, kitty-loving friend KT came by to dispense cat food and cat cuddles several times during our absence.

When we returned, the cats acted like we had left a cat-beating maniac in charge of them. The girls were, of course, fine. They always are. But my boys, Dom and Aakhu, were total jerks.

Aakhu refused to even look at me. If I picked him up, he pretended I was not there. He has this amazing ability to completely deny my presence even while I am holding him and kissing him on his head. This is accomplished by staring pissily over my shoulder, refusing to make eye contact, and being a total dead weight in my arms. It took him a full day to decide I was worthy of being acknowledged again.

Dom wasn't quite as bad, but almost. He'd make eye contact, but in this feral, wary, "omg are you going to try to eat me?" way. If I touched him at all, he had to immediately back away and frantically lick the spot I'd touched, all the while eyeing me warily. If I picked him up, he struggled to get free and quickly groomed himself. He was mostly fine in the morning, but damn! NOBODY can do passive aggressive like these two. Not even my darling husband*.

*love you, honey :)

BABY SNAKES!

Today, we found a pile of yellow rat snake eggs! They are Cornelia's, and I doubt that they are viable, but it's nice to see that my girl is healthy and happy!

Cornelia is one of four yellow rat snakes in this household. Rat snakes are a fairly easy snake to keep, and they are relatively intelligent snakes. My experience with them is that they are very good for handling, as long as they are raised well.

One of my rat snakes, Gregor, was abused, so he is defensive, fearful, and bitey. He's better than he was when we got him, but he still occasionally gets upset and nippy. All other rat snakes in this household, though (We have seven total*) are very friendly and easy to handle.

We've taken Cornelia's eggs and put them in the incubator. They didn't look terribly good because we found them too late, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

* Cornelia, Lucius, Marcus, and Julian: Yellow rat snakes
Claudia and Gregor: Everglades rat snakes
Elanor: Baird's rat snake

My menagerie

In case anyone was wondering, these are the creatures currently in my household. If you have any questions about them, please let me know--I love talking about them. Also, if you want to see what they look like, I'll be happy to snap a recent photo.

male.female.unsexed
0.1 Baird's rat snake (Elanor)
3.1 yellow rat snake (Julian, Lucius, Marcus, Cornelia)
1.1 Everglades rat snake (Gregor, Claudia)
1.0 Honduran milk snake (Tezcatlipoca)
2.1 ball python (Prowler, Renenet, Jerry)
0.1 Central American boa constrictor (Luna)
1.0 Jurassic milk snake (Hobbes--Cali king/Honduran milk hybrid)
0.1 Chinese smooth green snake (Yu-Mei)
0.0.1 rough green snake (Olive)
0.1 speckled kingsnake (Sophia)
0.1 rubber boa (Hecuba)
0.1 eastern milk snake (Seska)
1.0 Malayan box turtle (Fig)
1.1 diamondback terrapin (Toby, Nate)
0.0.1 house gecko
0.0.2 Argentine horned frog (Blinky, Inky)
1.0 human (Brian)
1.2 domestic shorthair cat (Teya, Morgan, Dom)
1.0 ocicat (Aakhu)
0.0.lots Lobster roach colony (want some? I give them away for free!)

Aquarium:
2 Leopard ctenopoma
3 red-tailed chalceus
3 Synodontis eupterus
1 Synodontis angelicus
1 Synodontis alberti
1 Synodontis ocellifer
1 Synodontis longirostris
1 grey leopard/Sultan (L-264) pleco
3 clown botia
5 weather dojo
3 ropefish
3 Neolamprologus brichardi
1 crown jewel cichlid (one-eyed)
1 yellow labidochromis
1 Frontosa (one-eyed)
2 gold gourami
2 opaline gourami
1 festivum cichlid
2 Arulius barb
1 ruby shark
1 spiny eel
1 brown African knife

Discrimination against black cats

When we adopted our Dom, Purrfect Companions had this article printed out and posted:

Did you know that black cats have the lowest adoption rate and the highest euthanasia rate?

Whether because of superstition, prejudice, or simply because they blend into the shadows in the back of the cage, black cats are statistically less likely to be adopted than more brightly colored felines.

Most often ignored by many rescues because they are so hard to place, these cats are left waiting in pounds and shelters with hopes of finding a loving home, only to be destroyed once their time is up. Rescues are reluctant to take in black kittens, worried that they will not be placed before they reach adulthood. Once they are over 1yr of age, they are usually left waiting and waiting, taking up much needed foster space etc. Many wait for several months even years.

Many adopters prefer the flashier, more colorful cats, and often overlook these regal looking beauties.

I was stunned by this. Absolutely stunned. I had no idea, and I just wanted to cry. They had several black cats there in cages, including Dom. Most of them were either snoozing or being affectionate through the cage bars. Dom, however, was sitting upright in the exact center of his cage, with an expression on his face that said, "Well, this sucks. I do NOT deserve this."

Indeed he did not, and I could not resist the attitude he exhibited. While he is a rotten little brat, I have never regretted taking him home with us. He's funny, smart, affectionate, and sweet. I love him to bits.

Iguana Care

A friend asked me for advice on the care of her pet iguana. It occurred to me that most people who get their first iguana don't actually know much about their needs. Iguanas are probably one of the most demanding pet lizards due to their dietary, lighting, and space requirements. There is a lot of really bad information out there, unfortunately, and it's easy to do long-term harm to a pet iguana by giving them the wrong food, lighting, and enclosure.

The first big issue is to understand that iguanas are diurnal (active during the day) and need to be exposed to sunlight for their health. There are special light bulbs that can help give the right spectrum of light, but they should be supplemental to allowing the iguana to bask in natural sunlight, if possible. If they do not get the right kinds of UV radiation (UVA and UVB), they will, over time, develop calcium deficiencies that manifest as misshapen or broken bones, neurological problems, and other problems. So, it's very important to make sure they get that lighting, and they should also be given a vitamin D3 supplement with their diet.

Also, iguanas are vegetarians. Giving them animal-based foods can be hard on their kidneys. However, it can be difficult to give them a varied diet of fresh greens, vegetables, and fruits every day, especially when you're a bit low on cash. It's expensive to keep fresh produce on hand at all times. I have just a few tips for keeping food costs down:

1. Collard greens, a great leafy vegetable for iguanas, keep very well if you chop them up and store them in a container that has a paper towel on the bottom and top. The towel absorbs excess moisture to keep the greens from getting slimy, but allows enough humidity to keep them fresh for a while.

2. Dandelion greens, probably the optimum leafy vegetable, can be grown in your own garden (whether you want to or not, even!) or purchased cheaply at the grocery store. This can keep summer and fall costs down. When using store-bought dandelions, leave them whole and only slice as much off the top of the bunch as you need. Unlike the collards, these do not fare well if they are chopped up ahead of time.

3. Frozen fruits with no sugar added are your friend. I keep at least one kind of frozen fruit on hand for my box turtle. They're cheaper, keep for a long time, and the animals don't mind them at all.

4. If you have fresh fruit that's right on the edge of going bad, freeze it. Grapes, berries, and other small stuff can be frozen whole, while larger stuff can be sliced up first. Bananas, apples, and melon do not freeze very well, but most other stuff is fine.

5. Share with your iggy! If you're having zucchini, set aside a small amount to put in your lizard's salad. Having a peach? Slice off a bit and give it to your friend. Whatever you're cooking, if you're using fresh vegetables or fruit, it can save you time when you share.

6. The grater is your friend. I shred sweet potatoes, parsnips, winter squash, and other hard vegetables to make them easier to eat. It's easier than dicing, and you can keep the bulk of the vegetable whole while you store it (especially with sweet potatoes, a favorite of my box turtle).

I very strongly recommend the book "Iguanas for Dummies" by Melissa Kaplan. She's an awesome lady, and her website has a lot of good information as well. I have linked the book below; if you use this link to purchase it, it will give me a small commission as part of the Amazon Associates program.

Learning the ropes

I have a particular fondness for eel-like fishes, possibly because of their resemblance to snakes. I also think that, because they are able to move their heads more independently from their bodies, it gives them more body language and therefore makes them more interesting (even though our interpretation of that body language is generally flawed and processed through an anthropomorphizing filter). It goes without saying that I find ropefish very enjoyable to watch, but I had not ventured into ropefish-keeping until I started my current job.

Other stores would get maybe one ropefish in every few months. They were high-priced, and about half the time were found dried up on the floor. A dried ropefish is a very sad thing. Their little faces are human-like, and it hurts my heart to think of what they experienced when they unwittingly played a nasty trick on themselves. Contrary to what most people seem to believe, fish that jump or slither out of their aquariums are not "committing suicide" or even "stupid". In the wild, fish that find themselves in a shrinking or stagnant puddle of water can often jump out and land themselves back into the main part of a stream, either directly or by flopping around, letting gravity take them to the water (water flows downhill, after all). Ropefish, eels, lungfish, and other similar creatures take this to another level by being able to direct themselves out of their current body of water, not having to rely on gravity and desperate flopping. They move through wetlands that might be a centimeter deep or even less; the small amount of ground moisture being just enough to keep them hydrated as they search for a suitable place to hang out.

In captivity, these creatures are engaging in their natural behavior, but they are in a very unnatural situation. Evolution prepared them very well for life in streams, lakes, and ponds, but not for life in a box of water, four feet off the ground, with the surrounding area dry as a desert. Some fish crawl or jump out to escape foul conditions in the aquarium, while others simply have an instinct to roam. Either way, keeping these fish alive means doing everything possible to seal up the tank. I suppose keeping a shallow pan of water on the floor for wayward eels and ropefish might not be a bad idea, either.

Long story short, my current workplace tends to get not just one ropefish at a time, but ten or so. A tank full of ropefish is an impressive sight; all those little heads peeking out of their hiding area is adorable and amusing. Having ropefish eat frozen bloodworms from my fingers makes me all giddy, too. Their movements are so graceful and deliberate; when they are searching for food, they appear to be very intelligent, looking all around them, carefully inspecting every crevice, and moving slowly and carefully.

We started having problems with the ropefish soon after I started the job. I hadn't realized that they'd had these issues before I came to work with them as well. They would get an illness that would eventually kill every single one within a week. The deaths were protracted and horrible, and none of the medications were working.

My first step was to ban copper-based medications and aquarium salt from their tank. They improved somewhat, but not enough. This last batch was going downhill fast, and I couldn't stand to see it happening. My personal ropefish at home was thriving; he has been with me nearly a year now. I decided to take the remaining fish home and see if I could reverse the illness with some intensive care.

First, they received a dip in penicillin, and the entire tank was treated with a food that contained penicillin (I also have several sickie refugees here that the boss was going to euthanize). I added Maroxy, Melafix, and Pimafix to combat the bacteria and fungi, and I added two powerheads, each spewing a steady stream of bubbles, to circulate and oxygenate the water. Dried foods were suspended in favor of frozen bloodworms and plankton.

The two ropefish that I brought home are 100% better now. They are happy, healthy, eating, and exploring the tank. A big change from the illness that caused the other fish at the store to go from "okay" to "massive internal hemorrhage" within 24 hours. These two were showing the beginning symptoms (skin patches, lethargy, gasping) when I brought them home; the others were already on the brink of death when I made this decision.

I have a couple of products on order from Seachem that I believe will help the next bunch of ropefish. I blame myself for these guys' deaths, though, because I did not catch the signs soon enough. That, and we lost one to the floor; people keep leaving their canopy open. I am learning as I go how to give these guys the best possible start on captive life, but it has been at a very unfortunate cost.

When I get some photos of the ropes in my aquarium, I'll post them. They're extremely difficult to photograph, though, as their heads are very small, and they move quite a bit.

Lucius the Lovely

"He needs to find someone else to bite!" read the ad on kingsnake.com. A picture of a beautiful sub-adult yellow rat snake accompanied the ad. The snake, named Gamma (because gamma radiation penetrates the skin), was a foul-tempered picky eater, and his owner was just tired of the abuse.

How could I resist? I contacted her, and before long, a small white box of snake was headed my way.

"Sometimes, when he's HANGING from my nose like some piece of malicious jewelry, it's all I can do to pry him off and put him back in his enclosure!" she wrote. I couldn't wait to meet him. I can't explain my attraction to the snappish ones. Gregor, whose story will come another time, was love at first bite. The nippy gopher snake in the herpetology lab at school was my favorite.

The box arrived while I was teaching a program at the museum. It almost killed me to keep teaching for another twenty minutes, but I managed. As soon as the kids filed out of the room, I used my keys to cut the tape on the box, opened it up, and pulled out a snake bag.

I carefully untied the bag and pulled out a pale yellow creature who was about three feet long. He curled around my hands, looked at me for a while, then settled down and stayed put. No musking, biting, or tail-buzzing. I figured that maybe he was just chilled, so I put him into a container and gave him a heat pad while I finished the rest of my work day.

I took him home, and over the next few days, he did not react with fear or aggression when I changed water, spot cleaned, or otherwise invaded his space. To this day, he has not bitten me or behaved aggressively. He was named Lucius, in keeping with my Roman Emperor rat snakes naming scheme (we have Julian, Marcus, Cornelia, and Claudia as well).

So what was Lucy's problem? Why was he so angry and ill-behaved for Ms. S.? Do I have some kind of magic snake-whisperer ability? I don't really think so. Prior to his life here, Lucius was kept in a sweater-box type enclosure. Many snake breeders use racks with translucent sweater-boxes as a matter of convenience. Usually, the snakes don't care.

Lucius, though, is different. We use glass enclosures here, because we like to watch our snakes. And, it seems, sometimes they like to watch us! Lucius spends a lot of time looking at the people in the room. He watches me most of the time, and he explores his enclosure, looking all around him. He's a very visual creature, and I think that he was possibly driven mad with boredom being stuck in a translucent enclosure.

He also has roommates here. He lives with Cornelia and Julian, and they spend a lot of time curled up together. Ms. S. had mentioned that he was less aggressive when housed with another snake, so perhaps he just needed some company.

Lucius is a beautiful, adorable creature, and he has the happiness he deserves now that he is with me.
Lucius is the one in the bowl; Julian's on the edge of it.