See the squinty eyes?  I'm fucking crazy.  :)

I adopted this girl when she was about four months old. That was almost nine years ago. She's batshit crazy. She's got anxiety issues, separation issues, thunderstorm issues. Stranger danger and wall-licking problems. Scarlette is also incredibly intelligent - to the point that she would jump a baby gate, use the carpet, and jump back over the baby gate. She also wants nothing more than to be curled on her back in my lap, all day, every day.


This little girl will be six next month. I adopted her when she was eight weeks, from a friend's boyfriend who left his unaltered female with an unaltered male. I love this girl. She's half pit bull on her daddy's side and her mother is half rottie and half lab. She's absolutely gorgeous. And has the best temperament of any dog that I've ever met. She's not the brightest crayon melted to paper art from Pinterest, but she's the most enthusiastic. I've used her as a blood donor in the past and she'll do what ever you ask. Unfortunately, her health has been her biggest issue. She had hemoratic gastroenteritis (HGE) when she was 11 months, heart worms and the subsequent treatment when she was two years, a history of eating things she shouldn't have eat (I have photos) and, most recently, a lack of bacteria in her bowels that resulted in diarrhea until we got her started on probiotics. Whee! (FYI - she doesn't donate any more.)


Lizzie is the most loving cat you will ever meet. Her idea of bliss to is sit on your chest, purring, while your hands make love to her. And she's got an awesome story.
I worked at a twenty-four hour emergency veterinary clinic a couple of years ago. One rainy Saturday night, a young couple brought in a box. Wrapped in a towel in that box was this little tuxedo kitten, soaking wet, that had been brought in to be put to sleep as she'd been hit by a car. It wasn't the best night and, unfortunately, it took a few hours for the vet to be able to see her. I was standing there when he unwrapped her from the towel and she immediately popped up, purring. Her leg was broken, her neck, face, mouth and eye were jacked up. The vet absolutely declined to PTS her and did a combo test instead. When she passed that, one of the technicians (bless her heart) decided to give little Lizzie a bath. And, due to her injuries, Lizzie wasn't able to be scruffed or restrained in the manner typical to bathing a cat. So the tech got bit.

Fast forward ten days to the end of the little tuxedo's quarantine period, and the owners have declared that they are going to send her to animal control. At this point, she's socialized and she's sweet, but she's got open wounds and a broken leg. She would have been euth'd immediately. I remember opening her cage door, and her popping out. It was love. I called my boyfriend, told him I was bringing home a cat, and went to Wal-Mart after my midnight shift to get cat stuff. We picked her up the next day. She was treated for bartonella and has also been a blood donor.