Family. Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them.

[TankDriver]

Hmm, let's see what bits I can chew off this thing next... you call those stripes? Ha!

[Stormbringer]

What a cute kitty

[Meter rat]

Years ago,
I had just finished the Rebuild, the 1st Rebuild of the Heng Long Pershing into the Korean War B50 Tank. 6 months worth of work. (I worked faster in those days) and I had put that tank in the Great Room on the Desk I had bought to display the finished ones on. My Boy, Waylon, came along, he was wearing a muzzle because these were his furniture eating years. He managed to hook the muzzle guard (how about that coincidence) and pull it off the Desk. Busted...Man, I was soooo mad. But I looked at him and he was scared and I realized that the Tank was stuff. It could be fixed and it was. Came out even better...sits in the Tank Room to this day. Waylon sleeps up on a shelf here close to me with his big brother Jack and older sister, Wish. I hugged Waylon that night and made it Ok for him. He knew that I cared more about him than furniture or models or any other stuff. I still do. I'll see all of them again one day. For now, Luna and Luke help me remember that stuff is just stuff. Temporary. Family, whatever form it takes is forever. Thanks for giving me a few. This has been on my heart for a long time now.
regards, all, Happy New Years to everyone!
Painless

Thank you for these caring words.

I know it’s just stuff. Animals don’t do stuff deliberately. Unfortunately the child hasn’t been disciplined, and certainly has never been told no. On the odd time they visit, something usually gets damaged. Last time was the TV as we only have terrestrial channels , so he couldn’t watch something he wanted to.

I remember the pictures of Waylon, Jack, and Wish. All of them had eyes to melt anyone’s heart. As do Luna, and Luke now. With expressions like theirs, I would forgive them if were chewing my leg off.

[PainlessWolf]

Meter rat, Sir!
Good Morning! 1st Friday of the New Year. Thank you, Sir, for understanding. I think it was Rudyard Kipling who wrote a poem about how nothing could tear your Heart like a Dog. I could be wrong since most of my Library is still packed up in Storage. I understand the Trade Off between the unremitting Companionship that is Given and What will inevitably follow after. Shifting Gears. That young man is lucky that my Mother was not his Mother. I think Her middle name was Rod and it were never spared. Helped me to grow up learning to listen to and respect my Elders. Better Days with that issue, Sir. Watch your Health please. No more scares. Looking forward to seeing how the Repairs to the vehicles damaged, progresses.
with every Regard,
Painless

[tankme]

I feel your pain though with the kids. My significant other's grandkids are pretty much equally undisciplined. One of them is constantly breaking phones, TVs, tablets, and laptops. I would have broken him of this anger problem where he breaks things long ago.

[Meter rat]

I think it was Rudyard Kipling who wrote a poem about how nothing could tear your Heart like a Dog. I could be wrong since most of my Library is still packed up in Storage. I understand the Trade Off between the unremitting Companionship that is Given and What will inevitably follow .

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

[PainlessWolf]

Good Morning,
Thank you for posting this. That says a lot using better words than I will ever manage.
Regards, Mr. Rat. Thank you again!
Painless

[Herr Dr. Professor]

And remember, it's not just for February: viewtopic.php?p=380090&hilit=pet#p380090

I still miss the little Schnauz-l-er who got me through a dying wife a decade ago. Ouch and double ouch! And there were two rescue kitties and a big, perfect rescue dog. Oh ouch and ouch and ouch!