And some people are just so hot and cold/Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde that’s its literally unbelievable. Are you for real?! Are you genuinely secretly two different people?! aweufdjklmasdl

Some people make the most simple things so blindingly difficult and I just want to smack my head against theirs.

baronvonhammersmash:

dirtybetanerd:

kedreeva:

8bitrevolver:

This was meant to be a quick warm up, but it turned into a comic that I’ve wanted to draw for a while. This is something that is extremely important to me, and I appreciate it if you read it.

A while ago, I heard a story that broke my heart. A family went a cat shelter to adopt. The daughter fell in love with a 3-legged cat. The father straight up said “absolutely not”. Because he was missing a leg. That cat was that close to having a family that loved him, but the missing leg held him back. Why?!

Many people have the initial instinct of “nope” when they see an imperfect animal. I get it, but less-adoptable does NOT mean less loveable. 9 out of 10 people will choose a kitten over an adult cat. And those 10% that would get an adult cat often overlook “different” animals.

All I want people to do is be open to the idea of having a “different” pet in their lives. Choose the pet that you fall in love with, but at least give all of them a fair shot at winning your heart.

Don’t dismiss them, they deserve a loving home just as much as any other cat. They still purr, they still love a warm lap, they still play, they still love you. Trust me, next time you are in the market for a new kitty, just go over to that one cat that’s missing an eye and see what he’s all about!

Let me tell to you a thing.

This is Lenore. I first saw her in a little cage at the Petco I frequent (I used to take my parents’ dog in for puppy play time), and she looked like the grouchiest, old, crotchety cat in the world, and I fell instantly in love. She was cranky, she was anti-social, hanging out at the back of her cage. Her fur was matted because she wouldn’t let the groomers near her.

She was perfect.

But I didn’t have a place for her. I wasn’t living in my own space yet, and where I was, I wasn’t allowed cats. So I pressed my face to the bars of her cage and I promised that if no one had adopted her by the time I’d bought a house, I would come back for her.

I visited her every week for over six months while I looked for a house. At one point, they had to just shave her entire rear-end because the mats or fur were so bad. They told me she clawed the heck outta the groomer that did it, screamed the entire time, and spent the next two days growling at anyone that came near the cage.

A couple of weeks later, I closed on my house. I went back and I got an employee, and I said: “That one. I need that cat.”

They got the paperwork and the lady who ran the rescue that was bringing the cats in told me that Lenore (at the time, Lila) was 8 years old, had been owned by an elderly lady who had died, and brought in to a different rescue, who’d had her for six months on top of the time I’d been seeing her at Petco.

This kitty had been living in a 3x3’ cube for over a YEAR because she was older and “less adoptable.”

I signed the paperwork, put her in a cat carrier, and drove her to my new home. I had pretty much nothing; a bed, an old couch, a couple of bookcases, and a tank of mice I called “Cat TV”. I let her out of the carrier and onto my bed, and I told her “I told you I would come back for you when I had a place. It’s not much, but it’s yours too now.”

Lenore spent the next three days straight purring non-stop. She followed me around the house purring. Sat next to me purring. Slept next to me purring. Leaning into every touch, purring, purring, always purring. She still purrs if you so much as think about petting her. She’s amazing, and I love her.

So, you know, if you’re thinking about adopting, and you see a beast that others consider “less adoptable,” think about Lenore.

FUCKING IMPORTANT

THIS POST MAKES ME SO SAD, I JUST WANT TO HUG ALL THE KITTIES ;-;

When I adopted my two kitties Ralph and Taz seven years ago, they were the last two left out of a feral cat’s litter of six. When I first went to this cat shelter, I vaguely remembered seeing a bunch of grey and white kittens excitedly poking their paws out under their cage but I didn’t give them a second thought because I knew we couldn’t adopt a kitten that young because it’d need round the clock care, feeding, training etc. which we couldn’t give as we all worked full time or were at school (and it would have been unfair to pretend otherwise). Instead I looked at other cats but none of them really stole my heart. We looked on and off for another two months or so until my mum and I went back on a whim one weekend.

We asked how often they get young cats in and they said not very often. However, they said they did recently have two 8-month old brothers returned to the shelter. They were the last out of a feral litter to be adopted and their owner’s had returned them after only 10 days because they said they were violent, skittish, unfriendly and wouldn’t sit on their laps. However, they’d neglected all the advice the shelter had given them and had just given up on them and returned them. (Advice such as keeping them in only one room and introducing them to one additional room each week. Think about it - if you’ve only lived in a large cage your whole life, the real world - even if it is inside a house - is mighty terrifying and huge and bewildering with all its scary noises).

It just broke my heart looking at them, thinking how could anyone return two little rescue cats like this without giving them a chance to have a real home and family of their own. However, I was weary at putting our name down for adoption because first up, it was the double the amount of cats we intended to adopt! And I’d only just met these two cats and after being told they’d been returned for being ‘violent’ and the fact that by two months they were the last two to be adopted just made me a little hesitant, so I told the lady we’d think about it and come back the next weekend. Then she said they probably wouldn’t be here the following week because young cats get adopted fast. (Although clearly not this poor pair). So mum asked me and I just couldn’t leave them there for someone else to take so we put our name down and a fortnight later, after home checks and a kitty essentials shopping spree, we picked up our two newest family members!

It’s not been a walk in the park and you have to remind yourself (and visitors…) that they are RESCUE cats and they can be as skittish as hell and will sometimes hiss even at our neighbours when they come to feed them or will jump in fear at butterflies or will leave train track scars up your left arm and hand because someone might have sneezed, coughed or moved their foot at a wrong time and they freaked out whilst you were having a hug. And it took YEARS before one of them willingly sat on my lap (and only now, they will only do it with a bit of coaxing). But they’re my boys and I couldn’t have asked for two better furry friends who are so affectionate and funny (somersaults off the windowsill, batting paper as it comes out the printer, a meow that sounds like a baby frog?!).

And they might not have been the oldest cats or the ‘ugliest’ cats but they were cats that had been rejected, had spent all their lives up until that point in a cat shelter (minus the 10 day ‘evil home’), were traumatised by all their experiences and they were now looking at a third home. I just felt my heart tug for their cute faces and and I thank my lucky stars I didn’t leave them behind at that shelter and that I was given a chance to give them the loveable home and family they deserve, whilst they give me so much happiness and love. Sometimes the best kind of cat(s) to adopt is the not-so-obvious one(s). Wait around for the right furry companion and sometimes you mind end up with two.

THE best pizza I’ve ever had!😻🙏 (at Pizzeria Il Pinsere - Roma)

When “I’m just having one friend back” turns into a full-on 3 hour pre-party with 9 people, swiftly followed by numerous drunken guys immanently smashing their way through the house at 2am. No one thought to warn me because…???

I loathe everything right now and want to chew my arm off in irritated anticipation.

If I wanted to feel like I was in a club and didn’t want to to sleep until 4am, THEN I WOULD HAVE GONE TO A CLUB. 

I wish so much that they’d have to get up at 6am on Monday too, just to feel my pain. Grumble grumble grumble grumble. You have no idea how precious weekend sleep is to keeping my body functioning. I actually fell asleep at work TWICE in the last week. Lack of sleep literally makes me loathe life and everything on this planet.

There will never ever be a Sunday evening where a part of me doesn’t want to curl up and die because it’s Monday the next day and I have to go to work. I literally just want longer than 48 hours each week to sit down and collect my breathe. 2 day weekends are not anywhere long enough to be both productive AND enjoyable!!!! I just want freedom back and to feel like a 20-something and be able to do things for pleasure and RELAXXXX. I kid you not, I am stressed 90% of the time and it’s bloody well taking a toll on my health and well being.

5 months down, 7 more to go.

doodle-elves:

no matter how many times I see the tank man footage from the Tiananmen Square massacre I am still completely overcome by shivers and goosebumps

A not so famous photo of The Tank Man of Tiananmen Square shows the full scale of events

usvsth3m:

In 1989, this photo of an anonymous protester halting tanks in Tiananmen Square went around the world

image

The photograph was taken by Jeff Widener, the day after the Chinese military shut down the student-led protests against the government taking place in the square.

Here’s another photo of the same incident, by Stuart Franklin, which shows the massive scale of the military intervention

image

The identity, and fate, of the protester remain unclear to this day.

Beyond humbling? Brave? Terrifying? Authoritative? I can’t even think of the right kind of hyperboles.