Pajiba

That really is a great commercial.

I wanna dragon. I WANNA DRAGON NOW!!!!

I want a Mogwai. I would take really good care of it I swear! I'd even make sure my clocks always had batteries so I don't feed them after midnight. Although...hmm, what happens when the clocks go forward/back? Do they just automatically know and so it's ok to feed them? And what about travelling, can they never leave their time zone? How would you keep it straight so you don't end up with gremlins? Christ, they're high maintenance aren't they?

Alternatively one of those weird little aliens from Flight of the Navigator. It's so cute!! And as far as I'm aware won't create havoc if I accidentally spill on it.

Hippogriff.

Combination transportaion and bodyguard. I am thinking it would also kill all of the groundhogs, rabbits and squirrels that like to destroy my landscaping.

At the Smith household, we love that commercial. We say "You didn't say I could have a REAL pony" at least ten times a day. Mostly because we are so disappointed by everything.

Anywho, we already have the best pet ever... a Lurcher. Google it.

Conversely, our neighbors own two totally useless dogs named Bandit and Smokey, whom we regularly taunt by calling them Banjo and Sh*thead. We've also accidentally broken the invisible fencing wire twice just because it's so fun to watch the neighbors run around like crazy trying to find the breach and getting white hot mad at us for being so irresponsible. (Yes, the wire is on our property.)

Well, for the dream/fantasy pet, a griffin is it. I WANT ONE SO BAD.

In the Real World, I have 3 dogs: Tanker, a golden retriever/lab mix who's 11 and who will crush me, heart and soul, when I lose him, and I fear that day is not far off; Kahn, a German Shorthaired Pointer, who is beautiful and sweet and eternally sad-face-cute and won't stop jumping over the damn fence; and Pyre, a dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks lab/pit mix, who's a big bundle of sweetness all the same.

I also have 3 cats, a 3ish year old tortoishell named Twister, after a roller coaster, because I found her in a parking lot at the amusement park I work at, and she's my baby-kitty version of Tanker; Furball, who goes by Furby and lives for food and sleep and is HUGE (17ish pounds) and orange; and Beamer, who was my grandmas until g-ma died, and the cat was passed to me. I don't know how she's still alive and kicking at 12-13 years old.

"Excuse me, I was tearing up there for a second."

I am sorry to hear this Tater. We all go through tough times. Here is some internet advice I found years ago that helps me get through the hardest of days:

O.K. This is how it goes. You get an orangutan. I’m not talking a monkey
or some dancing chimp BS, I mean a damn orangutan. Don’t ask me how
you’re gonna get an orangutan that’s not my problem. So the orangutan’s
name is Clyde. This is non-negotiable, all orangutans are named Clyde.
I don’t know why this is, it’s just how the world works. So you and Clyde become man (and ape) about town. You’re seen everywhere together, you make the scene. You and friends
go out in big groups. You talk loud, you laugh louder. Every time you
say something witty you high-five the orangutan. The town begins to
buzz. It gets back to her. “Did you know the guy with the orangutan?”
“You used to date the guy with the orangutan?” “Why would you break up
with a guy with an orangutan?” Next thing you know she’s calling.

“I’m hoping we can still be friends. Wanna hang out sometime?” “Geez I dunno, me and Clyde were going to a monster truck race tonight. (Orangutans love
monster trucks) In fact the whole social calendar seems kinda full. I
tell you what, I’ll make a little note (what was your name again?) and
maybe I can squeeze you in.” “Oh, well you know my number so don’t be a
stra-” “Hey look at the time! I gotta skate, Clyde’s making Mojitos’.”

At this point the upper hand is yours. You can let her twist in the wind; you can draw her back into your life at the pace you decide. Whatever, it’s your life. But if you’re a smart man?
You slowly phase her back in. You’re IM’ng. You’re talking on Live. You
get invited to family functions. You bring Clyde, he becomes like one
of the family. You’re one big Brady Bunch.

Fapfap fapfap FAPFAP YUB YUB!

I have a fish tank, and I have no problem keeping them alive. Tater, do you need a helmet? Even that re-re from A Fish Called Wanda could operate a fish tank.

I have a mutt who is the unholy creation of several dog breeds (maybe daschund, blue heeler, lab or pitbull)which resulted in her being roughly the same circumference from rump to neck with a tiny little head and short little legs. She is beautiful and perfect and her name is Gidget. My other dog is a very regal and independant beagle. I got him out of rescue seven years ago and while he has reached the dog equivalent of "get off my lawn" age, he is still faster then most humans on the short sprint. Until last Friday I had two cats; Monkey ancient and lovely, she passed from kidney disease and Noodle. Noodle is a Russian Blue with green eyes and is nicknamed S&M kitty because the rougher you are the more she likes it. All of my critters are from shelters and while it is absolutely soul-crushing to lose one, I would pick a rescue cat or a dog over a dragon anyday.

My cat Mungo is the balls. He rules his little cat kingdom (the house) and we are his subjects.

My fantasy pet would have to be one of those pterodactyl looking thingies from Avatar. That would be awesome.

@ Jennifer:

Awwwwww.

pterodactyls well ptero you a new asshole.

ptero story.

yeah the last one was too much and made no sense.

this is what happens when you watch syfy disaster movies for 4 straight hours. brain melt.

Snow leopard.

Damnit, AvB, I was just about to propose to Adventureman myself. Adventureman, don't listen to her, she's pseudo-married already. I'd be all yours.
I have two blue-gray kitties (they are not related and they weren't supposed to match, it just happened). Henry is my fatass sweetheart who likes to be held like a teddy bear (for hours, seriously. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have to shift and feel bad because I have to take my arm off of him). He's the sweetest, most awesome cat ever. Thayli is a bit of a whiner, but she patently adores me, so I put up with it. My dream pet would be the two I have now, except they'd be imortal. Also, I'd kinda like to steal my parents' new cat, Tommy. He's blue-gray too and a total doll.

If I had a pterodactyl I would name her Ptraci. (I think Terry Pratchett would agree.) In other news, I WANT A KITTEN. And a fishtank.

OK listen. here's the thing about "dr." posaster. She's a doctor of, like, science-y stuff. not a REAL doctor at all! you're still gonna have to do your own bandaids and stuff, is what I'm saying. Also, sh'es totally super-smart, and way hot, and has this really awesome tattoo.... which.... DAMMIT. I am totally blowing my case here.

In other news,

Dear dr. pisaster,
will you marry me?
Sincerely,
Anna von Beaverpuppetthingy.

Check here ( ) if yes.
Check here ( ) if no.
Check here ( ) if maybe so.

Bruiser T. Dog, our Mini-Dachshund knows how to sing, but he's really shy and will only do it in the room with my dad, so we have to hide behind the half-wall to hear it. He also loves bananas and burrows under anything he can.

This thread needs someone's "one time my irish wolfhound ate ___" story.

I can neither confirm/deny, but my friend had an aussie shepherd and a wolfhound. Somewhere in the neighborhood was another medium-sized dog (I forget) that was bothering the aussie, pushing her around, biting at her, and causing some visible stress. So he chased this dog off his property a couple times.

Cut to two weeks later, and the wolfhound is pawing and chewing at this piece of something that's making a jingling sound, so my buddy goes over and takes it from his dog's mouth.

It was a dog collar. No more problems.

Bub the Zombie from Day of the Dead. He would make a great pet.

That is all.

I second the dog from Jet Force Gemini, D-Day -Lupus rules. Plus, Hover/Inflato-Tank doggie suit. Badass.

But, for the sake of national pride, I'd have to say a Kiwi. http://hannasworld.typepad.com/journal/images/kiwi.jpg
C'mon, who wouldn't want one of those tearing around the house eating all those pesky spiders. And they are apparently the softest damn things out.

However, I had a bizzaro dream once, and my pet in the dream was a flying sea otter, who could camouflage like an octopus. He was pretty cool. He would just suddenly appear, having been floating stealthily in front of the bookshelf, and get me a beer. Nice guy.

Sadly, I'm the second to vote for Hippogryph. Want.

But since the flying mount for chaotics is taken, I want one of the worms from Tremors (or, you know Shai-Hulud.) Smart, sneaky, fast, carnivorous and ill-tempered. I want a trained tremors-worm, or maybe a pack that patrol together. Whatever I get it'll have to be as badass as the cat we had when I was growing up.

We had an inside / outside cat for years. Very independent. Hunted - successfully - when she felt like it and never brought the prizes to us. What, give that away? That's lunch! She also got into scrapes with various of the wildlife & never complained - those were the breaks. Gave at least as good as she got. After a while I quit worrying about her. Even if she didn't win, she'd make the other guy pay, first, and go down on her own terms.

So the Sinatra cat starts getting on in years. Goes patrolling only during the daytime, now. Not so much with the ramming and jamming any more. But still, walks the perimeter during the day, making sure that all is in proper order.

The neighbors got a dog. A big ole sheepdog. Friendly in an overbearing, over-muscled way. Thing weighed 80# at least, and thought it owned the world.

You know where this is going. Sheepdog the presumptuous wants to play. Come on play. Play now because I want you to. I'll push you around. I'll nip at you ... and ...

I never knew that cats could be trained boxers, or maybe it was some sort of cat-fu. Slow, arthritic and tiny this cat took *one* swing. From the shoulder, back feet planted and *rotating* into the pop. A picture-perfect roundhouse right, except with claws. Right square onto the end of the dog's nose.

The mangled mauler jumped back so fast the residual claw-friction actually got the cat air born. Fido the clueless tore away, paused, then took the slightest angle back toward the feline turf. One step from the six pounds of aged badassery and fraidy-dog trotted away. Never came back.

Our cat was awesome. If I train up the tremor-worms right the best of them might, just might rise to her level of badassery. And I shall lead them into battle upon my Hippogrypy, the one trained in the death claw of cat-fu.

I got an African Grey that I got for free as a kid. Basically I was working at a Vet Clinic at 14 and somehow a kid I knew in class heard about it and asked if I could check on their bird. Basically they had this little pathetic thing, missing all its feathers other than on it's head, covered in sores, locked up in a tiny cage in a dark laundry room. I never even got a straight answer on where they got the damn thing. So I take it into work, with this bird screaming non-stop at the sight of people as it was completely and utterly non-socialized. It was grossly underweight, and basically couldn't hold food down. The people never even gave it a name. So basically I told them how much the vet would charge...and they never came to pick the bird up.

Well for the next year or so, I basically worked at that clinic for free paying off the bills I assumed so they wouldn't just put the bird down. I ended up naming him Kramer because I kept a TV on by his cage to get used to the sound of people. She learned real quick the theme to Jeopardy, and the Andy Griffin Show. Even more interesting, the bird picked up all the names and voices from the show Seinfield...except for Kramer. Never did a thing of him...so that's what I called her.

Well eventually the bird got healthy (after months of basically hand feeding an autistic child with a can opener for a face), she stopped trying to attack me, and all her feathers came back. The only times I have ever not slept in the same room as her was when I was either deployed in the military or the random drunken night where I didn't make it home. So far Kramer is 3-0 against girlfriends that tried to put their foot down and get me to get rid of her. (seriously, can someone explain it to me why some people try to change their significant other on manners as trivial as this? Its not like a sprang the bird out of the blue?)

Fast forward to about 20 years later, still got her. Funny side note, the idiot father of the family that used to own Kramer called me about 3 years later demanding that I either returned the bird or pay him money because he saw in a pet store how much African Greys actually cost. Basically I explained that what he had was an illegal exotic and I had more than enough paperwork to get him a serious fine if he ever tried to contact me again. That dude was the fucking scum of the earth.

I've most like have spent thousands of dollars on this damn bird over the years. She is downright mean to people, will destroy anything she gets a hold of, hates children, and pretty much very self-destructive. She'll even whistle people and animals over to her cage, tweet like a sweet little birdie, duck her head down to make you think she wants you to pet her, and then chomp down on your finger with a vengeance. She fits me perfectly. She did it one time to my ex-brother in law, after I told him to stay away from the cage, and he smacked the cage when she bit him, causing Kramer to fall to the bottom. Well I kind of blacked out so I don't remember what happened but I ended up getting chewed out by my parents, and jackass ended up enjoying Thanksgiving in the hospital recovering from a concussion and a broken ocular socket. Somehow I was the bad guy....

My comment is that the ads on this site are becoming way too obnoxious to make me want to surf here anymore.

Come on. Every time I click a link I get a "Break Media" ad. Every fucking time. Are you kidding me?

Most websites give you an ad every so often. You are overdoing it to the point where I don't even want to look here anymore.

Please, fix this before we all abandon your site.

-Mark

Of course SaBrina wants a white animal.

Posted by: Tracer Bullet at January 30, 2010 9:13 PM

HEY. My dad once had a racist dog. I'm just trying to carry on the tradition.

I want a slow loris. Check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLdQ3UhLoD4
Tell me that isn't the coolest, most laid-back surfer-dude pet ever.
I also want a fox. And some cats. And an orangutan, because they are the most awesome looking animals ever. They'll all get along great, I'm sure.
Imaginary pets? Um....maybe one of the tiny swamp dragons from Terry Pratchett? Except it would probly drool and burn holes in my floor before eating my fireplace tools and then exploding. Hmm. I've got it! The poot from the My Teacher is an Alien series by Bruce Coville. It's like a sort of...slime...monster thing. Like gack. But a cute little alien pet. You can stretch it, or you can pull it apart to make more poots, and it's just fine! It sits on your shoulder and says "poot". Who wouldn't want one of those?

Currently I've got two dogs, an 11 year-old German Shepherd and a 2 year-old Doodle. But, while I'm in Scotland working on this PhD-thingie, they live with my mom and her two dogs (a 6 year-old Golden Retriever and a littermate to my Doodle).

When I go home it's dogsville and I LOVE it. There's absolutely nothing more deep down, soul-renewingly wonderful than spending the afternoon trying to keep tabs on three separate games of fetch (the Doodles have more fun trying to take the ball away from each other so you only have to throw one ball for two dogs). And then you get to fall asleep on the floor from sheer toy-throwing, tummy-scratching, head-patting exhaustion with the "kids" curled up around you so you really feel like part of a pack. Maybe it's an only child thing, but they're an absolutely indelible part of our family.

The Shepherd is a rickety old lady now, and I know I won't get to have her around much longer. She's five thousand miles away right now, and I miss her so very much, every single day. So thank you, Pajiba Weekend Comment Diversion, for giving me the opportunity to talk about them some. Makes them not feel so impossibly far away. And thank you, Ellie Mae Shepherd! You're the best dog, friend, guardian, workout buddy, playmate and therapist a girl could ever ask for.

Posted by: BiblioGeek at January 31, 2010 6:09 AM

Don't forget that they also make you psychic, which is a pretty cool side effect.

Snuggie, I've been told (by the lady who gave me some baby guppies and platies because she also has Duggarfishies) that angelfish will prey on baby fish. I don't know if they'd do well in a 10-gallon tank or not, as I'm not sure how big they get or how fast they grow, but one or two small ones would probably get the job done nicely.

Our family dog Cassie passed away over a year ago. She was a great dog, a mutt including German Sheperd, Rottweiler and Corgi (probably). That made her cute-looking, big-eared, barrel-chested and short-legged. Despite her short legs, she was very, very fast and used to run circles around us during walks.

She got almost 17 years old in the end (the running in circles stopped long before that), but she was a sweet, loving and funny dog (it was the clumsy Rottweiler heritage, you see), and I miss her dearly. We had to have her put down because of internal bleeding after she got into a tussle with another dog.

I have one alien - disguised as a Boston Terrier. But more than anything I want a House Hippo.

That Tucker Max ad is egregious.

I'm sure many people hear know of those invisible fence collars...they don't work with Border Collies...or at least the one I had as a kid. Sam would try to herd cars all day long. So we had to do something and a working bred dog can't live inside. We had about 15 acres, and hardly any traffic, but the neighbors were sick of getting stuck in their cars and Sam not letter them go forward or back. Well my mother didn't want a fence you could see for some reason so my folks got an invisible fence.

You know those batteries in the collars, the ones that would last for 6 months or whatever...yeah they don't last a week if the dog is smart enough to just sit in the warning noise area until the collar shits out.

Every time I would walk outside, I could hear the buzzing noise, so I would yell "Sam...GET OFF THE DAMN LINE!!!" and like always, her favorite pine tree would start shacking as Sam would come out from her hiding space. And she would stare at me, until either I stopped looking, or went inside...all the while inching back towards her spot under the tree. And as soon as that battery was drained...BOOM!!! back to herding cars.

After my father showed via pen and paper that we would eventually pay for a full fence in batteries alone, my mother agree to a full fence. Sam was...just dangerous smart. She could open doors and when the UPS guy showed up, she would wait for him to go to the front door, and then run into his truck and sit in his seat.

Sassy Rouge beat me to it but I also want a North American House Hippo. I think he would be the perfect pet because I love peanut butter on toast, so my little house hippo would always be fed. Our closet is full of warm mittens, so he could build a nice little nest in there. And I would name him Jemaine because he would be a hiphopopotamus.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TijcoS8qHIE

I have two cats and a dog. The cats are Cisco and Pancho. Cisco aka Titos aka T aka white cat is your average white cat with green eyes that I rescued from the pound after some unbelievably evil jackasses threw him out of a moving car causing him to break his hip when he was only a few months old. He's the oldest of the crew. (He's also justifiably skittish. Getting thrown out of a car by the people who are supposed to love you would make me a little nervous too.)

Pancho aka Panko aka Spancho aka Spanch (pronounced like spaunch) is a Maine Coon who was also rescued from the pound (don't know his back story) when we was a wee gray puffball. I didn't know he was a Maine Coon when I got him so this sweet gray kitten with white eyeliner, who had surprisingly large paws, grew into a 28 pound beast. He was once mistaken for a badger.

The dog is a Chihuahua who was found running hell-bent for leather in a parking lot in Dallas. We don't know who he was running from but we've had him for four years now and he still cowers if we move too quickly. This leads us to believe that some piece of shit used to beat this little dog who only weighs about seven pounds. He has to wear doggy diapers in the house because he doesn't get the concept of being housebroken but we love him anyway and go for a lot of walks. His name is Ziggy so we of course call him Monkeypants. And Monkeyhead. And Monkey. And Bunky. And the Zigster.

I would like a big cat, like a tion or a tiger of my very own. If not that, then Scar from the Lion King. Because, well, scar and Jeremy Irons.

Back when we lived in Detroit we raised Leader Dog Pups and got a strapping young lab that was our house dog. So he would keep the pups in line and teach them the ropes. We named him Gryffin (short for GRYFFINDOR). Well one day my Dad was walking Gryff but we didn't know that the pitbull from down the street was out. And this dog was mean, He was a DE-TROIT pitbull. So he runs up on my dad and the way he tells it, Gryffin was like a lightning bolt the way he kicked that dog's ass. I think it comes from play-fighting with years of puppies.
The real unfortunate part is that my Dad tried to pull him off so he wouldn't finish the job. That's when the cowardly little shit who got his ass beat lashed out and ripped up Gryffie's leg. So our dog was the one who had to get stitches and wear a cone. He still has an obvious scar but I think it adds to his image as the venerable elder dog. Lets the puppies know that he has seen shit that they could not imagine.

D-Day, believe me, I see what you're saying. But it's not about aesthetics; baby fish quickly become big fish, and an aquarium can only support so much biomass before all the residents drop dead from overcrowding.

Now, if it were me, I'd rather let the circle of life (read: bloodthirsty angelfish) take care of unwanted fish babies. In fact, I'm not sure I could commit fish infanticide, so thank heavens my fish haven't yet multiplied, because it's not easy to give away baby fish; even if you do manage to find homes for them, the babies tend to make their own babies in the new owners' tanks. Really, there's only one nice solution....

Spay and neuter your guppies, people!

At home I have a puppy. Lucy. She likes cheese, cheerios, sticks, and blood.

At school we've had fish in my dorm which (aside from being technically against the rules) is quite dramatic.
First we had Joseph, Stalin, Fidel, Castro, Mao, Zedong, and Mussolini (no Benito). But they all got Ye Olde Tater's Fish Cancer and kicked it.
Then we had Jason and Medea, but Jason was an abusive jerk so we got rid of him.
Then we got Thatcher, Chamberlain, and Churchill, but Medea killed them all. Fish are brutal.

We now just have Medea, and spend most of our time trying to train her to behave differently when we play different kinds of music. She mostly just swims lethargically (although I think she's quite fond of Queen).

You know, I do believe a mountain lion would eat a fuck of a lot of baby fish.

Just putting that out there for you to mull over, Snuggiepants.

Well I'm giving away a beautiful blue point Siamese.

He's old, so don't touch him because he doesn't like it. He'll probably hate you for the first three months. After that he will become super possessive. If you sit down, he's there in your lap, your food is his food and your bed is now his bed. Speaking of beds, don't think about bringing anyone home with you. He will hiss and growl at the thought of someone else in your bed. Except it's not your bed, it's his bed.

He's a messy eater. Half the food falls out of his mouth. He throws up when he eats too fast. Sometimes he throws up in your bed... er... his bed. He still hates you even when you think he likes you, he doesn't.

He refuses to poop in his litter box. He'll pee in it, always. But he also always poops exactly 10 inches away from the box. At least he's consistent. Speaking of poop, he's a serious butt licker. He chases my other cat around just to lick her butt. It's disturbing how much he does this and seems to enjoy it. And he still hates you.

He's just an old cranky cat and god I love him. I'm moving and he's too old to fly so I have to get rid of the little bastard. I'm going to miss him so much.

Any takers???

I have four cats:
Lucky: Black and white, 18 years old, had him since I was 8. He spends his days meowing for food, especially after I just fed him, because he's elderly.
Gypsy: Named for robot from MST3K, tortoiseshell, pudge, crabby and mean.
Tiger/Baby Kitty: Big, giant, mutant orange cat, so incredibly mellow that he wrestles with the dog.
Mr. Lily: Mom's long-haired gray cat who she named Lily until she found out he wasn't a girl.

And...two dogs:
Hope: Big, white, loudest barker on the planet, may lose her leg to cancer soon (Sorry to put a downer in there)
Wall-E: New puppy, less than a year old and bigger than Hope, he eats anything at any time and chews on everything. Possibly a Catahoula leopard hound, which is a term I learned from Veronica Mars.

For my dream pet, though, I want a panda. Or maybe a Care Bear...or a Care Bear panda.

You know, I always wanted a monkey!

It's my muthafuggin birthday. And Bill Murray is awesome.

I kinda wanted to let Nieve live up to her moniker but birthday wishes trump. Happy muthafuggin' birfday, Devo! Don't know you but what the hell.

I don't have a pet. I enjoy seeing my friend's dog or my sister's cats, but I'm glad I don't have the responsibility for them.
I had a cat for about a year (a police car ran him over). And though it was nice to have a furball about the place, there's all the paying for shots and operations, and boarding it somewhere if I wanted to go away. Bye-bye spontaneous trips.
Clearly I prefer not to be responsible for another lifeform. So if I did have a pet, it would have to be able to care for itself, be happy alone, not need walkies, and never get ill.
My ideal pet is, therefore, a Pet Rock. That purrs.

Thank you, tob, I will think good thoughts for your doggie as well. My aunt had a cat that had a stroke late in life but completely recovered the use of its limbs (mainly because it was the only way to escape the dog, which she loathed). But 19 years is a good long life for a cat, so I can't really complain and, like you say, every day is a treasure. I just wish someone would start working on making their life spans as long as ours, although I suppose that wouldn't help the overpopulation problem.

I fully expect my heart and brain to break as well. When I last had to put a cat to sleep, I did so quietly, without fuss, and brought him home and dug his grave, tossed in some flowers and marked the spot with a stone, all without shedding a tear. Halfway to work, I got pulled over by a cop, who asked me what my problem was; I promptly burst into tears and shrieked, "I'm late for work and lost and I SPENT THE MORNING DIGGING A GRAVE FOR MY CAT!"

She didn't give me a ticket, and when I got to work I had to sit in the parking lot for an hour while I bawled my eyes out. I hate to think what kind of breakdown I'm going to have this time. I love this cat more than I love most people, and I've had him since 1991.

My sister had a diabetic cat that required insulin; I wasn't even aware that such a thing existed with cats. One week I had to take care of her and God, how I dreaded poking her with a needle. Surely she would spaz out and forever hate my guts, but instead she gave me this look like, "Grow a pair already and give me my shot, I want my breakfast, damnit." She was a tough old broad, too.