The Chronicles of the Angry Geologist

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a pet person. I am always more "myself" when I own and care for some sort of animal. That's the way I am, I've accepted that, and so have my friends.

My parents, on the other hand... well, there's a reason why I put off telling them about Roland.

Case in point: yesterday, I was walking by a yard sale, and I found a 30 gallon fish tank and stand with all the accoutrement for $10. Yes- ten dollars. The stand needed a fresh coat of paint, but I mean... that's giving the damn thing away! It's all glass, very sturdy, the filter even has a built in foamer chamber! Of course, after I got a verbal assurance from my neighbor that everything worked, I paid her the ten dollars and picked up the thing right away.

The stand is mostly repainted. There's a few little things I would like to add, but those can be done later- besides, I need some balsa wood for that (and there will be pictures, so keep your pants on). Today, I added the gravel, the water, the Java Ferns from my old betta bowl (RIP Levi- sorry I didn't catch your swimbladder problem in time), doused it with stress-zyme, and started up the filter. I'm going to let it stabilize for a few days, and maybe start adding fish on Tuesday or Wednesday.

While I'm not an advanced fishkeeper yet, I am not a novice aquarist. To some extent, I know what I'm doing, and if I ever think I'm getting myself into trouble, you can bet I will spam the fora with my issues.

And, like most things in my adult life, my parents seem to think I'm going to be incompetent at this. My bettas have lived at least three years per fish, including the ones that were sick when I got them, and I was working under adverse conditions (very limited space). I didn't tell them about the saltwater tank I had in grad school, because I knew they'd run with this again, though when they saw it, they didn't seem to knock my roommate for taking poor care of "his" fish. The last time that they know that I had a fish tank was when I was a kid- there were two goldfish in a 10 gallon tank- okay, okay, I was a stupid pet owner, but in my defense I WAS EIGHT and I think that at a quarter century I can do a LITTLE FRACKING BETTER THIS TIME.

*huff*

It's okay, though. They've always been way too overprotective of me. I just have to wait them out, and prove to them and myself that I am a responsible adult. They'll come around. Eventually. I can be patient.

Besides, a school of neon tetras are going to look great under that blue light.

Ah. Here's the first little hitch in my relationship with Roland.

He doesn't like the fact that I work. Well, I'm sure that he's OK with me working, but he doesn't like to be left at home during the day.

He shit in his crate twice this week. What could I do? I cleaned it out and gave him a bath each time (necessary, and because he doesn't like it, cathartic). He's currently drying off in the bathroom, tethered to the washing machine. I've shut the door and I'm going to go and let him out after he's been quiet for five minutes. The object is for him to realize that crying doesn't get me to come back, and he'd be better off laying down and going to sleep while I'm gone, because I'm always going to come back eventually.

We started this game at 6:30. It is now 7:18.

I can outlast. I can win. And there is a tarp on the tiled floor.

ETA:

Well, it lasted another 40 minutes before he finally settled down. He had crapped and peed at least once, both times on the tarp, though I scrubbed down the wall near the puddle very well (and before you start, I took him out before the bath, he should have done that outside!). We went for a walk before I put him in his crate again, threw the soiled blankets in the washing machine, cleaned off the tarp, and scrubbed the bathroom down. He was better about it this time, and I didn't have to wait nearly as long for the "quiet for five minutes" to happen.

IwinIwinIwin! I had to clean up dog shit, but I won! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

So... yeah...

I finally found a place to get milk in glass bottles- turns out, that shady-ass-looking grocery store on the corner sells organic rBST free milk from cows that eat what they were supposed to eat from a cooperative enterprise. With an insane deposit on the bottles. Who knew?

Big Project is going along well- I've finished most of my part, but something is screwy with someone elses, so I might have to pick up the slack. Whatever keeps the client happy. I want this to stay with us for a very long time, so I can do more cool surface water-groundwater interaction.

It is colder than a welldigger's ass on a windy hill. If you've never been out at a drilling site, rest assured that that is damn cold.

I've started some of the seeds for my garden! I think I'm just going to make it easy on myself, and get pepper and tomato plants that have already been started.

I had a massive headache and unfortunately missed trivia night. Maybe next time...

Oh... yeah... and I haven't told my parents about my dog yet...






Rollin says hi.

Reds and Hammer were the father and son duo in the beagle rescue. Their former idiot "owner" did nothing except give them food. They were outside all the time in all kinds of weather- not tied up, not fenced in, just LOOSE. Reds and Hammer weren't very well socialized as a result.

They've come a long way since they were at the Huntingdon animal shelter. They still need housetraining, and to be taught basic commands like come, sit, and get the frak off the table, but they're good dogs, love to cuddle, and have beautiful eyes.

They're on their way to Reading now! The adoption was arranged over the week, and the new owner came to pick them up today. I just hope they get used to reading with a beagle on their lap.

We're starting to run out of dogs to show- the fosters are probably going to keep Bandy and the twins, Rob and Roy, so we're not going to show them publically at all. There are other dogs, but Winston is not kid-safe, and Sadie's scared of everyone (even me). It looks like we're getting a few more dogs from Ompah's old pound, so maybe they'll work out.

Ompah is one of the beagles at the rescue I work for. He's been there since I've started, and I've kind of grown attached to him. I was worried that I'd have to take him with me when I graduate, and my parents wouldn't have liked that AT ALL.

I don't have to worry about that anymore, fortunately. Unfortunately, it's going to be two blue moons before I see him again.

He got adopted, right on the spot today! A couple who had taken one named Barney before I started came in to see us and show off their dog. I guess he's got a little separation anxiety, and doesn't like being home by himself. While they were talking, Ompah ran right up to Barney and said hello- normally he's a little snappish around strange dogs, but he didn't mind Barney one bit. That was our first clue.

Then, the couple took Ompah and Barney out to the dog park. They came back to ask us a few questions about him, but they'd already made up their minds. Apparently, Ompah (now known as Opie) fell asleep with Barney on the woman's lap.

Since they'd already adopted from us before, The Head Cheese was more than happpy to let Opie go home with them. They filled out the application, bought a six foot leash, and led him out the door. He didn't make it easy on us- jumped up and said goodbye to all of us- but it's a good home, and good people who can handle a beagle.

I'll miss him! Now who am I going to walk?