I came across the following photo whilst perusing the internets late into the night… again (I think I am more of a night owl than a morning person. I am great in bed. I can sleep for hours. No, really. On more than one occasion, I have slept for more than twelve hours. Once, I got up to sixteen. And I wasn’t even sick. You’d think that it would be impossible with the amount of caffeine that I intake – many, many an Americano a day – but I just like to sleep. That is, when I can actually sleep. For a while there, I couldn’t sleep through the night without waking up a million times. Literally. Not figuratively. Literally.). Though, I do postpone the publishing for a more reasonable hour now. How I love that feature.
Anyhow, this man has a freaking hippo pulling him along on a cart. Where did he GET a hippo?! Where would he keep this hippo? I can’t imagine that it would be a great house pet. Though, I did see an animal planet show about strange pets. And a south African family was featured with their pet hippo. I could not find the animal planet episode (though, I admit, I did not look that hard), but here is some video footage of the pet hippo: http://www.flixxy.com/pet-hippo.htm. The episode also featured a buffalo pet and some others that I cannot recall at this late hour.
After seeing this photo and remembering the feature about the pet hippo, I have come to the conclusion that I need a pet hippo. It would be far more suited to pull me along in a cart than my Chomp. Though she is large for a boxer, 80 pounds, I highly doubt that she could pull me in a cart very effectively. Keeping in mind, she IS rather strong. Once, when we ran along ahead of my husband on a walk and then turned to go back, she saw Brian and got overly excited and literally bolted toward him pulling me along behind her. I almost fell flat on my face. If I had, I am almost certain that she would have dragged me along my face behind her with no troubles.
Screw it, I don’t need a hippo. I think I have convinced myself to not actually add to my zoo. I must need to sleep. After all, I ALWAYS want a new addition. Whether it be a new tarantula or a monkey (I am still trying to convince my husband to let me have a monkey… I think I am wearing him down…. only after almost nine years together…. I vote you all leave comments for him to view on the merits of having a monkey and how freaking awesome they are. I figure if it comes from other people, he may actually give in one day.), I always coo at new little animals that I could possibly take home and hug and squeeze and call George (Odd side note, I had to go back and read the first part of the sentence before the interjection about monkeys. My brain wanders too much for some. I, frankly, am surprised that anyone can decipher the shit I write.).Though I have never yet named a pet George. That’s it, I am naming the next addition George (please tell me you get the reference about hugging and squeezing and calling him George…. old looney tunes bit… BTW, why don’t they play the looney tunes on Saturday morning cartoons anymore? Now, there is no reason to get up on a Saturday mornings….. Sunday mornings, yes… Sunday is pancakes day. And I am ranting again….).
I found this picture of a boxer pulling a scottie while looking into carts for Chomp to use to pull me about the town. I could totally see Tweak, my scottie, hamming it up in the seat while she pulls him along. He is, after all, my princess. I fully realize that he is a male, but he ALWAYS needs to sit upon a pillow. Always. Even if my head is upon it, he will curl up and edge me off of my pillow as I sleep. He does this often. I am sure if we put pillows in the cart, he would immediately climb aboard. The cart would no longer be for me. It would be Tweak’s cart… effectively making it pointless for me to get one for myself. Damn it, Tweak, you ruin everything for me. Seriously, he is so very much Brian’s dog.God forbid if I want to cuddle with my husband. Tweak always edges himself in between us and gets on top of Brian’s chest. I am convinced he hates me. he is the mastermind behind Mister’s, the cat, attempts on my life almost every night. I get a claw on the jugular all of the time…. This brings a thought to mind. Does anyone else’s animals try to kill them as often as mine? Note that I said as often as mine, not whether or not they try. They ALL try it. Search your heart, you know this to be true!