#just like I am not the person who cropped my rescue dog either

[doberbutts]

lisam7chelle @lisam7chelle

It's almost as if this is a breed standard and dogs that are cropped/docked properly are indicative of a good breeder... what a thought.

I say this as someone who does not like cosmetic procedures and if I had a choice would not have it done for my dogs because I dont see the point. That said, there are reasons a dog might be cropped and docked.

Me: I did not crop and dock Creed and if I had had the choice I would not have done it but he was done long before I knew he existed and at the time the only way to get a doberman from a good breeder was to at least have a docked dog even if the ears were left natural, and my next doberman will be fully natural because the breed is in a different state than it was 8+ years ago.

Me: *deliberately gets three dogs from completely natural breeds in short order*

Me: *already knows who I will get my next doberman from and that dog will be fully natural with intact ears, tail, and dewclaws*

Anon: FUCK YOU, YOU DOG MUTILATOR

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Time for us to take care of you; Queen x teen reader (platonic)

*Author’s note*

This was a request from my Wattpad and this is also a cute little platonic fic in honor of Brian’s birthday (since in this fic I kinda lean towards Brian here in favorite band member) now this one’s a little different because here and as warning we’ve got you being the assistant for Paul Prenter (UGGGGHHHH!!! DX) but have no fear, the crazy queenies will save you from his tyranny! And you shall find out soon.

So besides the warning for Prenter, there’s fluff, swearing, situation regarding migraines.

Queen taglist:

@geek-and-proud

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@coolcxt

@queendeakyy

__________________________________________________

I was going through some files trying to get everything that Paul told me to organize properly and have ready for Mr. Reid while they all went over to meet with Ray Foster, the record producer for the band.  God even though he’s my ‘boss’ I wish that he would do his own work instead of handing it down to me, especially when I hear Mr. Reid telling him to do this certain task but the second he goes away, he just places the work right on my desk just before I would clock out sometimes.

I paused my work and rubbed my face as I groaned tiredly before placing my chin on top of my hands as my elbows were leaned up against my desk.  Suddenly I felt hands cover my eyes and I let out a small squeak but before I could fight back, a voice said in my ear.

“No, no, no darling no peeking you cheeky thing.”

“Freddie what are you doing?”

“You ask so many questions darling.” I waited for a moment before saying,

“Can I look now?”

“Hold on, not yet.”

“Now can I look?”

“Ever the impatient teenager, thinks work is better than being spoiled. Especially by us, wouldn’t you agree Deacy?” I heard Roger’s voice say.

“Yes indeed. She works much too hard.”

“Alright Fred uncover her eyes, it’s ready.” Brian’s voice spoke up and the second Freddie’s hands uncovered my eyes, I saw before me a tray of food and a cup of my favorite flavor of tea.

“Aww you guys.” I said as I twirled around in my chair and turned to face them.

“You just work so hard love and we know you probably didn’t have time for lunch. So after the meeting with Foster, we slipped past Reid and Prenter and got you your favorite.” Brian explained.

“Ohhh you guys do too much for me. I should be doing stuff like this for you.”

“You do too much of that already. Time we did something for you for a change. Get your mind off of work for once.” Roger said as he playfully ruffled my hair. I shoved his hand away from my head and tried to readjust my hair before I reached for the fried rice first and asked them.

“So, how did the meeting go?” I know I shouldn’t be asking questions like these but throughout these past 8 months since I got this second job to get some extra money for—personal reasons (please don’t ask), the boys of Queen had really become like a second family to me.

Even though they’re bigshot rockstars who most people would believe wouldn’t care much about people who help them behind the scenes, the lads had been nothing but supportive of me.  As a young 15 year old assistant, this whole lifestyle can be intimidating but thanks to John Deacon or as I had the privilege of referring him by his nickname “Deacy”, he’s helped me out by pulling me aside whenever the scene got too hectic especially for someone my age.

If you had to ask me who I’d pick as a favorite it’s really hard to choose but if I really had to and I hope and pray the guys never hear about this but I would have to say it’d be Brian May.  Not because of his rockstar abilities or just due to the fact that he’s the guitarist of this famed group.  No I’m talking about the Brian May fascinator of the stars and the rights of animals.

See once I get to University I’ve always had an interest in becoming a veterinarian but not just for domestic pets, but exotic animals as well.  When I was just 9 years old I saw a family of hedgehogs nesting in my mum’s garden and for weeks on end I helped fed them and made sure the family dog Yaz never went near the nest as to not harm or scare the mama hedgehog and her babies away.  And when Brian first heard about my dream, he was so proud of me that he even gave me an offer.

He vowed that one day if he ever got the chance to run his own little ‘animal safe house’ I would be his personal veterinarian for all sick, injured or orphaned animals he would take in.  We began to bond over our love for the animals and we both shared that the laws of Britain should change on animal rights.  It’s cruel and inhumane that badger baiting is still performed here in the UK even though its illegal. One day Bri and I hope to change that, to make sure that all people that still do stuff like that is truly put to justice no matter what animal they harm.  

Now I won’t say that I either do or do not like it; but in secret when it’s just us two, he sometimes likes to call me his little ‘fox kit’ because he always compared my cuteness to a baby fox kit.

And of course there’s Roger and Freddie.  The two famed troublemakers as I like to call them.  But even with their high energy and true rock and roll spirits, they like to have their quiet moments.  Like I’ve cat-sit for Freddie before and got to go over to his flat to meet them (all of them) as well as his lovely lady Mary Austin.  While Roger and I like to have some talks about cars and boats.

I knew a thing or two about cars thanks to my uncle who owns a mechanic shop in downtown London.  He’s taught me a thing or two about fixing engines, changing a tire so I’m not like most women who just seem to want to sit there in the middle of nowhere in their short jean pants that barely cover their buts and crop-tops waiting for someone to come to their rescue.  Hell I even once got to change one of the tour buses tires when Deacy or any other of the roadies couldn’t seem to get it.

And of course when it comes to fashion, these two try to take me with them when it came to their shopping trips and try to get me in the most outlandish and insane clothes that even I thought were ridiculous.  But I enjoyed spending time with them, plus seeing them make fools of themselves is always a good way for some juicy blackmail should the time ever arise.

“Well we’ve got the approval for the new record.” Deacy said.

“Really? That’s amazing. Congrats guys!”

“Yes. However there is a catch.” Brian added.

“What is it?” I asked worriedly.

“Unlike any other album, they’re sending us out of London. Actually far from any distractions. We’re going to a recording studio called what—Stone farm?” Roger said.

“Rockfield farm studio Roger dear.” Freddie pipped in.  Oh wow.

Now that is a long away from here, actually it’s out of England far.  I’m told that studio is located in the intense farm country of Wales.  Pure agriculture and not rural location.

“You guys have any idea how long you’ll be gone for?” I asked.

“Foster’s giving us a nine week deadline.” Brian answered.

“Oh.”

“Well there’s no need to be sad darling. You’ll be coming with us.” Freddie said as he lightly patted my shoulder.

“What?”

“Oh come on (y/n). Did you really think we’d leave you behind for nine weeks. We’d go mad without you around.” Roger said.

“Honestly I think we’ll try to murder each other without you there to keep us in check.” Deacy answered bluntly.

“But—but I….guys I’m honored you’d think I should go with you to this recording studio but unfortunately Paul’s my boss and I don’t go anywhere unless he tells me it’s okay.”

“Oh no need for that darling. I gave him a full rundown on why you should come along with us and he gladly accepted the reasons.” Freddie said.

Honestly Fred I know why he said he’d take me and it wasn’t because of your reasons. Yes I am well aware of how my boss looks at the frontman of Queen and let me tell you I’m not saying this as ‘unnatural’ for a man to love another man.  I just worry for Freddie’s safety.  

I knew Paul was no good, I don’t even see why he would even advert for an assistant when he hardly gives me the time of day and belittles me every day.

“Okay well there’s also my mum. You….you know how conservative I’ve told you all she is. I doubt she’d let someone my age who with a bunch of guys twice my age to Wales all on her own.”

“We can assure her that no harm shall come to her beloved daughter. Even if we have to chain ourselves to her car in order to prove our point.” Roger said.

“Please say you’ll come with us darling. Please?” Freddie said as he placed his hand on top of my shoulder, looking at me with pleading eyes even through his shades. I set my rice down and said.

“I don’t know guys……”

“Well we know there’s one surefire way to get you to say yes darling.” Oh bugger not again.

I felt both John and Roger’s hands grip both my wrists pulling me out of my seat and I was soon sandwiches between them.  Their arms imprisoning me between them making sure that I wouldn’t get out.

“Still don’t want to change your mind darling? You’ve already gotten the approval might as well take it.” Said Fred.

“I—I—”

“Still not wanting to go I see? Well Roger, Deacy time to step it up my darlings.”

“Awww no not the bunny nose! Deacy please it’s—oh not the double bunny nose!” The famed Queen sandwich plus bunny nose tactic.  Whenever the boys really wanted me to join in on something but I’d try to get out of it, no matter which combo they did.  

Two members would sandwich me in their arms while on either cheek I would feel their noses twitch like a bunny giving me bunny kisses, but if I still refused then I would get passed on to the next combo of whomever was left.

“Ohh please I can’t take it! It’s too cute when I get you both doing it!”

“Then say you’ll come or you’ll get it from Brian and I.”

“Okay! Okay I’ll come, I’ll come.” They all cheered and of course Roger and Deacy began kissing me all over my face and head as Brian and Freddie now came in to complete a royal Queen group hug as they liked to call it with me at the center. “When do we leave?”

“First thing tomorrow morning.”  Well hopefully I can convince my mum to let me go.

With the help of Brian and Deacy (since they were the most responsible of the band, and at this point Deacy was about to become a father at this point since his wife and soulmate Veronica was pregnant so hearing a future parent talk with a current parent seemed a bit easier to understand. Instead of four adult rockstars asking a teen girl to come along with them for her job) my mum allowed me to go.

I spent the next few hours packing and ended up getting about 5 hours of sleep since the cab I would be taking was coming around 6am to pick me up.  My mum kissed me goodbye the next morning and made me promise to call her every single day and night when I got up and before I went to bed.

Finally after a long 3hr. drive we finally arrived.  And let me tell you Rockfield farm definitely lived up to its name.  As I was helping with the unpacking of the band’s stuff Roger was the first one out of the car wearing his fur coat and shades as he said.

“Recording studio?”

“Well the idea was to get away from all distractions.” Paul answered as he held two suitcases in hand.  I grabbed one of the suitcases but as I walked around the car, I slipped on some mud and nearly fell to the ground had it not been for Freddie managing to catch me in time.

“Thanks Fred.”

“No need for thank yous darling. Need any help?”

“No, no I’ve got it.”

“(Y/n) I ain’t paying you to stand around and sell yourself out. Take that suitcase into the studio over there while I show the lads their rooms.” Paul snapped. Dude you hardly pay me at all.

“Yes Mr. Prenter.” I said as I headed in the opposite direction and set the heavy suitcase down.  For the next couple of hours I was helping unload the guys’ guitars, amps, and drumkit into the recording building.  

And of course Paul insisted that since I would figure out cars and talk about stuff that no other girls talk about then I’d have no problem unloading everything, so I was left alone unloading everything without the guys’ knowledge. Paul also had me set up Roger’s kit and have Brian’s guitars all set up and ready for him when it came time to record tomorrow.

By the time everything was set up and I was finally able to leave the studio I turned to see that the sun was just setting.  I walked in to see everyone gathered at the dinner table just finishing up their supper.

“Oh there you are love, we were wondering what was keeping you.” Paul made sure to keep his eyes locked right at me.  Because he had threatened me once that if I ever told the guys of how ‘overworked’ he was giving me, he’d fire me and make sure that I would never be admitted into another Queen concert again.

“Just—thought I’d look outside at the marvelous view we’ve got. I know you guys are gonna have a lot of time to write here.” I said.

“I will admit it defiantly provides no distractions.” Brian said.

“Well I’m gonna give Veronica a call and then probably head to bed.”

“Yeah I think I’ll hit the sack myself.” Roger agreed.

“True my darlings, we’ll take an early start tomorrow.” Freddie said.  With that the guys all decided to turn in for the night.

“(Y/n).” I turned to see Brian still at the table with a plate of fresh food. “Managed to save you a plate.”

“Brian you are my angel, thank you.” I said as I sat down.

“Next time don’t get too lost staring out into the fields, okay. Even you must eat my little fox kit.” I groaned at the nickname and playfully slapped his arm as he laughed softly. “Now eat and don’t stay up too late. Goodnight love.”

“Night Bri.” I said as he kissed the top of my head before heading towards his room. “Oh hang on, we weren’t clearly told. Where’s your room going to be at?” Actually I have no idea. Paul never mentioned a room for me.

“I’ll—I’ll talk to Paul after I talk to my mum. Don’t worry Bri I’m sure my room’s here somewhere.” He looked at me skeptically and said.

“Well just so you know in case he has you sleeping on that dirty old couch, you can always come up to my room. It’s the first door on the right. It doesn’t matter what time you come in, just wake me up and I’ll make room for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Bri. Goodnight.”

“G’night love. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.” He then proceeded up the stairs.  After I finished up my dinner, Paul soon came in from the bathroom and I asked him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Prenter.” God I hated calling him that. “Where will I be sleeping at while I’m here?”

“Oh sorry (y/n), but I’m afraid all the rooms have been reserved by the band, Rory and myself.”

“So there’s—no more rooms?”

“Afraid not. But there’s always the couch. Unless you don’t think you can handle staying here, you can always go back to your mum’s place and I’ll tell the lads you were homesick and couldn’t handle being away from your sick mum for too long.” God I really hated it when he used my mum against me.

“The couch will be fine. Goodnight Mr. Prenter.”

“Goodnight lass, and be sure to have breakfast up and cooked by the time we all wake up. As part of the agreement you’ll be making all the meals from now on during our stay here.”

“Very well sir.” I stated.  Paul sneered a grin before heading upstairs to his room.  I put my dish away and headed to the living room to see my suitcase there on the old, soiled (probably mold or cat piss), torn apart, dusty red couch. It hardly looked like it would fit me and as I lay down on it, it already felt lumpy and I swore something was poking me in the back.

Heading into the bathroom I changed into my pajamas but as I stepped out, it was freezing cold.  God I guess summers out here in Wales just get cold.  I raced towards the couch and tried my best to cover myself up with the blanket but it was so think layered and holes that I was barely able to keep warm.

This was gonna be a long night.

By the time it was morning, I was shivering and my neck and back were in pure agony.

“I thought I said to have breakfast ready before I awoke?” I groaned and peered an eye open to see Paul standing over me.

“You said—to have it by the time the guys woke up.”

“And by that I meant Roy and myself. There are two hungry men waiting for their breakfast. Now get off your arse and movie it lassie.” I slowly stood up and felt my head pounding as I tried to ease up the tension in my muscles.

“Can I at least call my mum? I forgot to do that last night.”

“I’m not paying you to gossip band secrets to your mum. Now go and get breakfast ready or I’ll have a cab come and get you for being so incompetent.” He threatened me. I looked at him and he glared down at me with those icy, soulless eyes of his.

“Very well Mr. Prenter. What would you all like to have for breakfast?” He grinned down at me knowing that he had won the battle.

When the guys came down, I was just getting the last bit of breakfast ready and when Deacy saw me he asked me.

“Poppet, are you alright? You look exhausted.” Tell me about it. I just kept tossing and turning on the couch since it was so uncomfortable.  The cold wind seeping through the old wood texture of the house made it almost impossible for me to sleep since I feared of getting pneumonia.

“Just…..just kept worrying about my mum. That’s all.”

“I’m sure she’s fine darling. You can give her a call later after breakfast. So my beautiful chief what have we got cooking this morning?” Freddie asked as he wrapped his arm around me.

Which I knew Paul would give me hell about it later.

For the next week and a half it was the same routine.  I hardly got any sleep, Paul would drag me about all day making sure everything in the studio was set up and he was smart to keep me away from the guys or forced me to put on more makeup so that my eyes wouldn’t appear as dark and baggy as they were.

But one morning, my head was pounding so hard and my vision was blurry.  At first I thought it was just because I was still sleepy and had unshed tears but when Paul’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard and that chalkboard was plugged to an amp increasing the sound and the piercing light from the sun as well as the lights in the house just made it painful to even look up, I knew it had to be a migraine.

Of course Paul didn’t care and had me immediately go out into the studio building and try to get everything set up for the boys to record.  But since the sun was out today it gave the room an intense brightness than usual.  I could barely keep my eyes open and my head was pounding like how Roger bangs his drums, maybe even harder than that.

As I was setting up, I just felt this bolt of agonizing pain strike my head and I tried to keep my balance but I ended up falling against the wall.  My ears ringing and tears falling down my face.

“Slacking off once again I see.”

“Please Mr. Prenter can you not talk so loud? My head really, really hurts.”

“It’s just an excuse of yours to getting out of work. I’m tired of all these excuses you’ve been giving out. Just like every woman crying out for attention. Now do your job less you want to be fired!” I groaned and held my hands to my ears to try and block out any sound as my head kept pounding and my ears were ringing.

Through my blurred vision I saw three figures standing in front of me while I felt a fourth figure wrap their arms around me.

“Shhh, it’s okay love. It’s okay. Just lean back into me.” Oh Rog. “That’s it. You can fall into me love, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I whimpered in agony as I fell against him after feeling a stronger and more painful pounding in my head. Even with putting all my weight against him, he didn’t flinch once.  “That’s it, that’s it just fall into me lovie, I’ve got you.” He whispered.

Oh if there’s one good thing about Roger that I also love it’s his soft voice.  No one would know unless they talk with Roger Taylor that his voice is actually really soft spoken, which is shocking because when people hear him sing, it’s either his high falsetto or this gravely, raspy growl.

“Okay love, I’m going to slowly pick you up, okay? I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can.” I whimpered telling him I understood what he was saying. “Alright love, ready? One….two….three. Oh I know, I know love I’m sorry shhh shshshsh.” I then felt something cover my head.  It felt like an overcoat and I heard Deacy’s voice whisper.

“Let’s get her to my room. Hardly any sunlight gets in and it’s probably the quietest bed in that house probably.” Together the two of them took me out of the recording studio.  Roger kept me close to him, telling me to close my eyes before we stepped a foot outside while Deacy handled every door that came in our path to make sure that when they closed, they wouldn’t slam behind Roger and cause my migraine suffering to get any worse. “Shoes off though, there’s not any carpet for these stairs.”

Deacy took his off first and he then said.

“Here, let me take her down so that we can get her on a more comfortable surface and out of this light.” I felt Roger gently try to transition me into Deacy’s arms now and I couldn’t help but whimper as I felt myself being jostled once more. “Shhh, I know poppet, I know I’m sorry. Just hold out for a bit longer. You’re almost there.” Deacy whispered to me as I felt myself being taken down the stairs.

I groaned with every wood creak but Deacy apologized with every step until finally the nightmare was over and I was gently being set down on the bed.

“There we are love, you can open your eyes now. Slowly.” Slowly I opened my eyes and I saw the blurry figures of both Roger and Deacy.

“There she is. Is it helping at all?” asked Roger.

“I still hurts.” I whimpered out.

“Aww we know love.” I felt his calloused fingers brush away the strands of hair from my face.

“Do you need anything poppet? Medicine? Water?”

“All of the above.” I groaned.

“Okay, Rog you stay with her. Make sure she doesn’t move around too much. I’ll go get the stuff.” I felt Deacy kiss my forehead and I saw him go up the stairs.

The hair stroking and gentle scalp massage was now Roger’s job and I groaned out as I tried to adjust myself.

“No, no, no don’t move love. And try to relax your face. Facial tension only causes the migraines to get worse.”

“I thought you were a dentist?” I couldn’t help but tease.

“I was never a dentist love. I switched my major to biology. Got bored with dentistry.” He said as he bopped my nose.  Soon enough we heard the sound of footsteps coming down as quietly as possible but along with whom we suspected to be Deacy, we also saw Brian and Freddie coming down the stairs.

“Hey there’s our girl. How are you feeling now love?” Freddie asked softly.

“My head still hurts but at least the light’s gone.” I said.

“Well lucky for you I’ve found some pills to help with that.” Deacy answered as he came up to me and handed me the pills first.  I popped them into my mouth as I was now being given my glass of water and I took a sip before finally swallowing the pills as well as the water.

“Ohh god my head feels like it’s gonna explode.”

“Just give it some time my dear.” Freddie soothed as he sat down beside my feet. All was silent for a moment till Roger soon spoke up.

“(Y/n), why didn’t you tell us Prenter was treating you to that degree?” I looked down shamefully but before I could answer Brian spoke up.

“I think that’s something that can be spoken about later. Right now she shouldn’t talk or even be thinking right now. Let’s leave her to recover for the rest of the day.”

“But—what about…..”

“A but-but-but. No buts about it love.” He insisted softly as he lay close beside me stroking my hair softly.  “You lads go on ahead, I’ll take the first watch for our girl.”

“Get well soon darling.” Freddie said gently with a pat to my knee.  Both Rog and Deacy patted my shoulder or hand and the three of them quietly walked up the stairs as best as they could.  Once they were gone, I closed my eyes and moaned tiredly.

“Are the pills helping at all?” he asked me softly as I felt him still stroking my head.

“A bit. I just feel bad about stealing Deacy’s bed.”

“He understands. He wouldn’t have offered for you to take his room if he didn’t.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, now no more talking little fox kit. Time to sleep. That’s what you need.” I moaned tiredly and shut my eyes and for the first time in over a week I was able to sleep peacefully.

When I woke up, I smelt eggs and bacon all the way from downstairs.  I opened my eyes to feel that my migraine was finally gone but I did feel a bit dizzy and woozy.  I slowly got up and wobbled for a moment before getting the strength and mobility to walk up the stairs.

Once I reached the top and saw the sun shining through the house, my head wasn’t pounding as much as it was before and the light didn’t hurt as much.  I headed towards the kitchen and that’s where I saw the guys sitting down eating breakfast.  Deacy was the first to spot me.

“Well look whose finally up.” The other three members turned toward me and they all greeted me with a soft and warm good morning.

“Mornin guys.” I said as I walked toward them.

“How you feeling love?” asked Roger.

“Better than what I was.”

“Here, drink some water. We need to keep you hydrated.” Said Brian as he held out a glass filled with water.  I softly gave him a thanks and took a sip.

“How long was I out?” I questioned.

“Ohh darling, you were out for three days.” Freddie stated.  My heart dropped, I felt lightheaded and I swore if this were a cartoon, my eyes would be popping out of my sockets right now probably inflating bigger than my body.

“What?” oh my god I feel like I’m about to pass out, puke and scream all at the same time. “What? Three—three days. Tell me your joking someone please tell me Fred’s joking.”

“As much as I love a good joke I’m afraid he isn’t love. You’ve really been asleep for three days.” Roger said.

“Here darling, come sit and eat first. Then we’ll explain everything. Plus we’ve got some questions that need to be answered on your part.” Fred added to Roger’s statement.  I walked over toward them and Deacy scooted a chair out and had me sit there which lay between where he and Brian were sitting.  Bri set down my breakfast and my stomach let out a loud growl.

And of course the guys took every advantage to softly laugh at me and I simply flipped them off before digging into my meal.  Oh lord this tasted like heaven! As I ate, Deacy spoke up first.

“Love, why didn’t you ever tell us how hard Paul was making you work?” I paused eating my sausage and swallowed it down before I said.

“You guys don’t understand how men treat women in the music business. Especially if they’re just assistants. I—I wanted to prove to Paul that whatever he gave me I could do it. He’s….he’s always belittled me and had my mum as an excuse to fire me telling me that if I couldn’t handle it, then I could forget the extra money for her.”

“You could’ve come to us. We’d would’ve helped you.” Said Roger as he rubbed my back with his hand.

“But I don’t want to take you guys hard-earned money.”

“No not that. I mean we would’ve helped you out with your work, especially here. We could’ve set up our own equipment, you didn’t have to do all that.”

“He was working you too hard. Barely giving you a break. You know if you had told us the extent he was forcing on you, we would’ve helped you, right?” Brian said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.  I looked down shamefully fiddling with the remaining bits of my eggs and said shamefully.

“I’m sorry guys. I just—thought I could handle it.”

“You’re a hard worker poppet, but you also need to realize you’re still a kid. You don’t need to work till you drop, no one your age should experience things like migraines until you reach college.” Deacy said.

“I’m not a kid Deacy.”

“Ohh come off it, you may be a teenager but you’ll always be a kid to us.” Roger teased as he playfully poked my cheek making me whine out and slap away his hand. It was then I finally noticed that Paul had yet to show his face.

“Uhh guys, where is Paul?”

“He’s out darling. I fired him.” Freddie spoke.

“What? But—but then that means….Fred if he’s fired then I’m fired! Why would you—”

“Darling relax. Everything’s going to be okay.” He tried to assure me but I was frantic as I yelled back.

“How!? You do realize he was my boss! Sure I never liked him hell I hated the bastard but if he’s fired then I have no job!”

“Love, relax. If you’d let us explain you’d know that you’re no longer a manager’s assistant.” Brian spoke up as he cupped my face in his hands.

“What now?”

“We made some called to Reid and after explaining the grueling amount of work and harm Paul was causing you, while he’s fired. You’re now moving up the ranks.”

“Huh?”

“From now on darling you will be our day to day manager. Keeping an eye on us and making sure we don’t kill each other. Hell you’ll be remembered as the youngest manager in history.” Deacy said as he gently nudged his shoulder against mine.

I looked at them all and they were all looking at me with a unanimous look that they all agreed to this and had no objections to me being their new day to day manager.

“But….but guys you do realize I have school in the autumn and in the spring, right. How can I possible be your manager when I’m not even out of high school yet?”

“That’s where we’ve bent the rule with Reid.” Roger explained.

“Until your graduation we’ve agreed to settle for summer tours so that you can be there for us day to day to check in on us, while when you have school we’ll perform at concert venues and do recordings for our albums. Also when the school year starts back up, you’ll come to the studio every day after school for 5 hours a day just to make sure we’re on schedule.”

“And since we’ve also figured out that Paul had screwed around with your payment contract, Miami is in charge of your payroll. But since you are still a minor about to take on such a task, he’s currently trying to convince your mum and nana to let you have this better job offer. So that way they will also be safely financed and better informed on your performance as a manager.” Deacy stated.

“He’ll make them see reason darling. This is a better opportunity for you to get a better understanding of management. Especially if you wish to one day open up that animal rehab that you’ve been dreaming of so much.” I looked at each of them and just couldn’t believe the extent they were all going to help me out.

“Ohh you guys. This—I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

“You deserve it love, you’re just as much a part of this family as the four of us are. You’ve looked after us long enough, time for us to look after you, my little fox kit.” Brian said as he gently stroke his thumbs across my cheeks gingerly.

“Thanks you guys, I love you.”

“We love you too (y/n) dear. Now I decree there is one remedy we have yet to give you and now it is the proper time for you to receive.” Freddie proclaimed as he got me up out of my chair.

“And what would that be?” I asked.  It was then I saw all of them looking at each other with sparks of mischief in their eyes. The air grew tense as they all grinned at each other and either nodded or winked at one another before looking down at me.

“OTTER QUEEN CUDDLE!!”

“Wha? AHH Hey! Oh c’mon you guys. Ahh Rog, Deacy don’t tickle me!” I exclaimed as I was now put in the middle of a Queen group hug.  But ever since telling them and letting them know how I wanted to help animals, they dubbed this group hug specifically an ‘otter queen cuddle’ since I had shared with them that otters love to stay in groups and hold each other close so that they won’t separate from their families or mates.

Along with being in the middle of the otter cuddle, I felt their noses nuzzle all over my face and even one by one each of them would give me an Eskimo kiss, as well as quick pecks.  Each of them talking about how much they loved me, how they would always be there to take care of me, even calling me animal nicknames since they clearly must’ve heard Brian call me his ‘fox kit’.  So now according to the Freddie I am his ‘little kitten’, Deacy refers to me as ‘chipmunk’ and Roger calls me his ‘hummingbird’.

“You guys are impossible, you know that?” I teased.

“But you love us, don’t you hummingbird?” Roger said as he pecked my nose.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have you guys any other way.” I admitted as I cuddled deeper into their embrace and they all squeezed around me tighter like four little otters.

[ktwrites]

Genre: Modern AU Pairing: Jonerys (of course). Rating: Still T for now. Summary: Dany finds herself confiding in Sansa and Arya while Jon reaches a potential breakthrough with the help of Bran and Sam.

 “Did you change your hair?” Sansa asked as Dany unzipped her coat. She was walking through the godswood near the house with Jon’s sisters and beloved dog, Ghost. It had been cool and gray when they left, but as the sun began to seep through the tree branches the forest floor warmed and their coats were no longer necessary.

 “Since I last saw you? Hmmmm I don’t think so, why?”

 “You just look a little different.”

 “I probably just look tired, that’s all.”

 “No,” the redhead clarified. “Not different in a bad way.”

 “Just different,” Arya added.

 Dany stopped in her tracks and stared at the two Stark sisters. It took them a moment to realize she was no longer walking in stride between them and they both stopped a few feet away and turned to face her. Sansa and Arya were as different as two sisters could be and yet, they were also incredibly similar, but Dany knew better than to tell either one of them that. Sansa’s long red hair was braided neatly over her shoulder while Arya’s brown hair was cropped short, just long enough to be pulled back halfway. Sansa was tall and elegant, but Arya was short and quick. Both sisters were fiercely loyal to Jon. Despite being in an open wood, Dany felt cornered.

 “Thanks,” she said, ducking her head and avoiding their eyes. “But I really don’t know what you’re getting on about.”

 “Arya heard you throwing up in the bathroom this morning,” Sansa blurted out.

 “And?”

 “And you barely pretended to eat anything this morning,” Arya added.

 “Like I told Jon, I wasn’t feeling well this morning. It must’ve been something I ate last night,” Dany said, perpetuating the excuse she had used with her fiance.

 “We all had the same thing to eat last night. Sansa made it. If it had been the food don’t you think more than one of us would have been sick.”

 Normally calm and collected under pressure, Dany felt like she was running out of options quickly. Jon’s sisters clearly suspected something or else they wouldn’t have continued their interrogation level of questioning. She weighed her options.      If     she was pregnant, stress wasn’t good for a baby. Keeping the truth all to herself was nearly impossible. Had they been back in King’s Landing she had no doubt that she would have already confided in Missandei. As it was, Dany had tried to compose a text to her best friend nearly a dozen times but couldn’t find the right words to convey something so personal. What was more, she had scarcely been away from Jon since they left for their trip to the North and she knew Missandei would have called her the moment she read a text. So she kept everything bottled up tight within her. She looked down at the ground and collected herself before looking back up and Sansa and then Arya.

 “Alright,” she sighed. “The thing is...you see, there’s a chance that I might be...pregnant.”

 And then the floodgates opened.

 Dany did not give herself over to tears easily. Years of enduring her brother’s cruelty had steeled her nerves and emotions.      Stop crying    , he would say.      We are the blood of the dragon    . Whatever that meant. He said this whenever they would have to pack up their things and move from one house to another. When she was little, Viserys would tell her that they had to move because one of their father’s business adversaries had convinced their foster homes to give them up. As she grew older, Dany realized that it was Viserys’s erratic and sometimes volatile behavior that was the cause.

 “Seven hells,” Arya cursed. “Look what you’ve gone and done now.”

 “Me?” Sansa argued. “You’re the one who told me she was throwing up!”

 Ghost ambled over to Dany and nudged her hand, as if willing her to stop crying. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and then ruffled his fur. He had taken to Dany surprisingly well when they first met. Jon had told her that Ghost didn’t like many people. He had been a rescue and Jon had taken him in when he was just a puppy. He was small and an albino so the animal shelter told him that the breeders probably didn’t think anyone would want him. Since that day, Ghost and Jon were nearly inseparable.

 And then along came Dany. Ghost didn’t take well to strangers, except for Dany and right from the beginning, too. It was something Jon had never seen before.

 “How about we head back to the house,” Dany suggested, bringing a halt to the sister’s squabblings. “Then I can explain more.”

 XXXXX

 “Here,” Sansa said, handing Dany a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

 “Thanks.”

 When they had returned to the house Jon, Sam, and Bran were all still mercifully gone but Dany, Sansa, and Arya had still retreated to Sansa’s large bedroom. Since the death of her parents and older brother, Sansa had moved into the master suite of Winterfell. Really, it was only fair. As the oldest surviving child of Ned and Cat she had inherited the house and because she went to college nearby she lived at home and oversaw everything. While Dany and Arya tucked themselves into the soft sofa and chair, Sansa went down to the kitchen to prepare tea for them.

 “Does Jon know?” Arya asked.

 “No,” Dany replied, thumbing the handle of her mug. “I’ve only just admitted to myself that it’s a possibility.”

 “How did this happen?” Sansa asked. “I mean...I know      how     but you said-.”

 “I know, I know. I don’t know how other than I thought that it wasn’t something we had to worry about and so we weren’t ever careful.

 “You need to tell Jon,” Arya said softly. “He deserves to know.”

 “I know he does,” Dany admitted. “But I can’t. Until I’m certain I don’t want to tell him and get his hopes up.”

 “You’ve not taken a test yet?” Sansa asked.

 Dany shook her head and took a sip of tea. She had come close not long before they left King’s Landing. She had run to the store to pick up some last minute things for their trip and had wandered down the aisle with the pregnancy tests. It was overwhelming. The multitude of brands and types of tests had left her flustered and fleeing the aisle. And what if she had run into someone she knew? What if the cashier checking her out somehow knew her? What if it didn’t ring up correctly and they needed to do a price check? Instead, Dany bought what she came for and left the store without another thought.

 “Well then you      need     to take a test.”

 “I know.”

 Dany felt like a broken record. Of course she      knew    that all of this seemed improbable, impossible even. She      knew    that Jon should be told, and she most definitely      knew    that she needed to take a test to confirm what she suspected. And yet...and yet a fear held her heart gripped so tightly in a vise that it nearly took her breath away every time she tried to think about any one of those circumstances.

 “Are you scared?” Arya asked.

 “Honestly? Terrified.”

 “Scared that it’ll be positive or scared that it’ll be negative?”

 “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

 XXXXX

 “Are you sure about this?” Dany asked as she watched Arya unbuckle her seatbelt.

 “Absolutely. Look, we drove all the way to Hornwood for this. We might as well get what we came for.”

 Once Dany had gotten word from Jon that he and Bran wouldn’t be back from their afternoon with Sam until later that night she was convinced by Arya and Sansa to buy and take an at home pregnancy test. They’d agreed that it would be better to drive out of town and when Dany still seemed hesitant about going in to buy the test herself, Arya had willingly volunteered.

 “I’ll be swift like a Faceless Man,” she had said.

 “Those don’t actually exists,” Sansa protested.        

 “I mean that I’ll be in and out before anyone even knows I’m there.”

 That made Dany feel slightly better. Simply being with Arya and Sansa seemed to put her at ease. It was as if a small bit of weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that someone else knew about her situation.

 “Take this,” Dany said, handing Arya a few bills from her wallet.

 “Gods, how expensive are those things?” Arya asked.

 “Buy more than one, idiot,” Sansa explained with a roll of her eyes. “Buy more than one brand.”

 “Gotcha, I’ll be back!”

 Within seven minutes- not that Dany was watching the clock- Arya was back in the car, brown paper bag sitting next to her in the back seat and Sansa started the engine and began driving back to Winterfell. Dany began drinking the bottle of water she had brought along with her. Within forty-five minutes they were back at the house, following each other back into Sansa’s room and closing the door behind them. Within fifty minutes they were all anxiously waiting for the time on Dany’s phone to tell them that three minutes had passed since she came out of the master bathroom.

 “I feel like I need a glass of wine,” Sansa said.

 “Or a cigarette,” Arya replied.

 “You don’t even smoke.”

 “Exactly, that’s how nervous I am.”

 “You’re nervous?” Dany chimed in. “It’s      my     test. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

DING. DING. DING. DING.

 The three young women fell silent and merely stared at Dany’s phone until she turned off the alarm.

 “I can’t look,” she practically whined.

 “Everything will be fine,” Sansa assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what.”

 “I’m still not ready.”

 Neither Dany nor Sansa had seen Arya get up from her spot on the end of Sansa’s bed and stalk towards the bathroom. She came out holding the test in a piece of tissue in her hand.

 “It’s negative,” Arya said evenly, almost definitively.

 “Oh,” Dany heard herself reply. She felt like someone had ripped a bandage off, leaving her with a throbbing pained feeling.  She knew she should have been relieved, but instead she felt empty. She should have felt like a weight had further been lifted off her shoulders, instead she felt like she had been crushed under an immovable rock. “Wow... I mean that’s good news, right? I mean it’s what I expected, to be honest. I definitely didn’t get my hopes up thinking I might actually be pregnant, that the doctors had been wrong all along. I didn’t lie in bed and think about what our baby might look like or how we’d decorate a nursery or anything like that. It’s for the best anyway. Now we can just go right along with the plan like we always wanted to.”

 “Dany, if you’re disappointed it’s natural,” Sansa offered.

 “I was terrified. Terrified that for once I might actually get something I wanted so badly. Something I know Jon wants and it just kills me that I can’t give it to him.”

 “Well you can,” Arya murmured and Dany’s head snapped up.

 “What?”

 “You can give Jon that. The test is positive.”

 “But you said it was negative,” Sansa said.

 “I know. I saw it on a TV show one time.”

 “Seven hells, Arya! Give it to me,” Dany stood and snatched the test from Arya so she could see with her own eyes that the two lines indicated that she was indeed pregnant.

 Thirty minutes, two bottles of water, a glass of wine for Sansa, and two more positive pregnancy tests later, Dany sat in stunned silence. Her mind spun in thousands of different directions. Part of it dwelled on the impossibility of it all. Another part on how this would change every part of their lives. Still another part on what she was going to say to Jon.

 “What are you going to tell him?” Sansa asked, sensing Dany’s thoughts as only someone as close as family could do.

 “I don’t know yet,” Dany admitted. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

 “But you      are     going to tell him, right?” Arya asked.

 “Of course. Besides, he’s bound to notice it eventually anyway.”

 “Why wait?” Sansa wondered aloud. “I don’t get it. You know he’ll be happy about it.”

 “I know he’ll be happy about the baby,” Dany said. “I’m worried he’ll be upset with      me    . What if he thinks I lied to him? What if he’s mad about the timing? What if I lose-.”

 “Stop right there. Nothing is going to happen.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 Sansa started to protest but seemingly changed her mind. “Do you have any idea how far along you might be?” she asked instead.

 Dany let out a puff of air and tried to reckon the days in her head.

 “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I missed last month altogether. It would be due to come again next week so I guess I’m nearly two months late…”

 “I could see if you feel like you need to wait until you see a doctor before telling Jon,” Arya said. “That’s fair. But then you need to tell Jon.”

 “You two won’t tell him?”

 “It’s not our news to tell,” Sansa agreed.

 “I’m glad the two of you know. I’m glad      someone     else knows. It was eating away at me.”

 “Your secret is safe with us for now. What are sisters for?”

 XXXXX

 “There you are,” Dany smiled at Jon as he walked through his bedroom door. It was late and despite being wiped out from the events of the day she had wanted to stay up and wait for him. “You’re later than I expected.”

 After saying goodnight to Sansa and Arya she retreated back to Jon’s room, changed into his black Night’s Watch shirt, and climbed under the covers. She tried to read one of the books she brought with her, but found that her mind kept wandering towards whether or not she should share her news with her fiance.      It’s our news    , she reasoned.      He’ll be excited about it. He’ll want to go to the doctor with you. Just tell him    .

 “Sorry,” Jon replied, a glimmer shining in his grey eyes. “A lot to catch up on with Sam and with Bran.”

 “Don’t apologize. You look happy. Did Bran find something out?”

 “Not exactly, not yet anyway, but there is some good news.”

 Dany set her book on the nightstand and watched Jon as he moved about the room getting ready for bed. He pulled off his shirt and jeans, removed his contacts, and crawled into bed next to her. Leaning over he kissed her soundly until she pulled away.

 “Well hello to you, too. I have news, too.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, but you first.”

 “It’s all a bit complicated, but the gist of it is that Bran thinks he may be able to track down who my mother is by hacking into hospital databases.”

 “Is that legal?”

 “Not at all,” Jon laughed. “Sam and I will have to pretend it’s not illegal.”

 “How does it work? What is he looking for?”

 “He’s going to try to search for my name to start with and then narrow it down by area based on what we know.”

 “Which isn’t a lot to go off of,” Dany pointed out.

 “No,” Jon agreed. “It’s not, but it’s a start. Even if we can get it narrowed down to a reasonable number we have something more to go off of.”

 “You’ll have a starting point at the very least.”  

 “My mother might be out there somewhere. She might be alive. I might get to meet her.”

 “That’s amazing,” Dany said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “Really, I’m so happy for you.”

 “Your turn. What were you going to tell me, love?”

 Dany wasn’t sure what changed from the time Jon walked into the room so full of hope for the future, but she could no longer bring herself to tell him about the results of the three pregnancy tests she took earlier that evening. He was so excited about potentially finding his mother and she felt her throat tighten at the mere idea of telling him the truth right then and there. Despite what Sansa and Arya had assured her of, she still worried about what his reaction would be. She couldn’t bring herself to potentially ruin the day he had with her news.

 “Oh…” Dany said, shaking her head. “Nothing nearly as exciting. We picked out bridesmaid dresses. That’s all.”

 “Well that’s great,” Jon smiled. “What color are they? You actually got Sansa and Arya to agree on something?”

 “Lavender, just like we talked about before.” she easily lied. “Sort of. They’re wearing the same dress in different style. Missandei, Sansa, and Arya get to pick out whatever style they want.”

 “I suppose the gents should start looking at suits.”

 “There’s still plenty of time. You’ve had other things on your mind.”

 “I was thinking...maybe tomorrow...you, me, and the hot springs,” Jon suggested. “How does that sound?”

 “Absolutely lovely,” Dany smiled, at ease once more.

 Later that night while Jon was sound asleep Dany lie awake staring through the darkness up at the ceiling. His breathing was soothing, yet sleep still evaded her. Slowly, she slid her hand over her still flat stomach, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do until that moment. It was real now. Beneath her fingertips was a miracle, a child she and Jon had created, whether intentionally or not. She would tell Jon soon, she decided. When the time was right.

[ezatluba]

AUG. 17, 2020

Can I Interest You in a Dogshare ?

Rachel Levin

Maybe I’m a monster, but all the posts of pandemic puppies have annoyed me. As have the calls from friends that precede them. “I’ve got news!” no longer applies to just engagements and pregnancy but rescue mutts and $4,000 bernedoodles. It’s not that I don’t find all these new dogs adorable — I do. It’s just that with everyone I e-meet, it feels like I’m one step closer to succumbing to my family’s command: that we get a dog, too.

Thirty-one days into quarantine, they ambushed me after the 31st dinner I’d cooked in a row, with a PowerPoint presentation entitled “WHY WE SHOULD GET A DOG,” littered with pictures of irresistible pups and prayer-hand emoji. My sweet little 11-year-old daughter poured her heart and soul into these slides and argued her case like an extra-small RBG, and still: Being the cold-hearted mother I guess I am, I remained unconvinced. And told her so. And made her cry.

I didn’t want a dog pre-COVID, and I don’t want one post-COVID, though I admit I can see the appeal of a dog mid-COVID.

The begging continued. My kids told me I’m “ruining everything.” In the heat of quarantine bliss my husband said he wants a dog so that when we get divorced he has someone who loves him. Around Day 120, I semi-acquiesced: Okay. We can get a dog, I said, on one condition — and one word: DOGSHARE. Part-time. Splitsies. A cuddly King Charles or bark-y beagle, maybe even a giant Newfoundland (please God, anything but a golden retriever) that will shuttle evenly between two loving, likeminded homes, like the child of an amicable divorce. My friend Samantha is onboard. She lives by San Francisco’s Ocean Beach. Our urban dog would have a beach house!

It’s an idea I’d been chewing on for a while. It sounds dreamy. All that puppy love and affection for half the price. The pros appear plenty. Week on, week off. No $35/hour dogsitters. No pleading with friends to pleaaase watch Wobbles. We could hike any trail! Loll on any beach! Rent any Airbnb. Fly back east to visit family without spending money to board a dog and a plane. The cons seemed nonexistent, until I started talking about it. “Once you have a dog, you’re not going to want to share her,” warned Nina, snuggling her new Cockapoo the other night on Zoom. “It won’t know its true owners,” counseled Maddy. “The dog will get confused.” Bullshit! (Which, I declared, I don’t want to pick up either.)

I rang a professional dog person. “Am I being selfish?” I asked Clive Wynne, a behavioral scientist, founding director of the Canine Science Collaboratory at Arizona State University, and author of the 2019 book Dog Is Love. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he assured. “Dogs experience strong emotional connections, but they also come into and out of relationships easily. I see no reason at all that a dog couldn’t find it tremendously satisfying. I bet the dog would be thrilled!”

In his three-decade career, Dr. Wynne has never known anyone to dogshare, he said, but it sounds like a decent antidote to the modern ill of dog loneliness. In normal, non-quarantined times, “We bring dogs into our busy lives, then treat them like Wii consoles,” he said. “Alexa doesn’t get depressed if you don’t speak to her for a week, but a dog does.” A dog shared across two parties, he reasoned, is better than a dog too often ignored by one. After all, what will become of all the pandemic pups once the pandemic ends (if it ever ends) and their owners get back to their busy lives?

After mulling it over, Cameron Woo, co-founder of long-running magazine The Bark, agreed. “The traditional concept of the nuclear family has been turned upside down … What we consider a traditional dog’s family could, too.”

Woo certainly has a point. Why, in a world where we share cars and houses and clothes, hasn’t this clearly win-win notion of dogsharing caught on?Services like Copuppy and Let’s Share a Dog cropped up several years ago, allowing strangers to enjoy a furry fling for a walk or a weekend, but neither ever really took off. Breakups often lead to embattled co-custody of pets, and the legal contracts that go with it. So why not two families willing to share a Fido — forever — from the get-go?

“It’s not the dogs, it’s the humans,” said Dr. Wynne. Consistency is key for dogs, which calls for agreement among people. How many walks a day? Is the dog allowed on the couch? At the table? Is that $7,000 surgery necessary? Dogsharing wouldn’t work for everybody, he warned.

It works for Heather McIlhany. “It’s the freaking best,” said the D.C.-based marketing executive. She and her ex-boyfriend share two Jack Russell mixes, swapping every week and splitting all expenses. Just because she loves having her dogs half time doesn’t mean she loves them any less, she points out. “A dog shouldn’t be treated like an end table. When I’m with Cora and Crash, we go for long walks. But they also puke on the couch, bark at every falling leaf. If I had them every week, it might feel like a burden.” Sure, she gets “a little pang” watching the dogs run into her ex’s house, nary a look back, and since the pandemic began it’s been lonelier. But then they’re reunited and it feels so good. “I tell everyone they should set their life up this way!”

Not all experts think such a set up affords a good dog life, though. Crossing town every two weeks would be “disruptive” for all but the most resilient dogs, said Dr. Stephanie Borns-Weil, a veterinary behaviorist at Tufts’ Cummings Medical Center. “You have to think not just how it’s going to be for you — but how it’s going to be for the dog.”

For Lulu, a French bulldog in San Francisco, it’s been fabulous. “She has two families,” said Suma Gona, a psychiatrist. For the last ten years, they’ve split the week with another couple. “I thought it was crazy, but they just fell in love with Lulu. They take her to acupuncture! She has this whole other life!” At 14, it has also been a long life. No doubt due, in part, to all the attention that’s come from their unique arrangement — which will likely expire with Lulu. “The kids want to get another dog, but I don’t know …” said Dr. Gona, considering the full-time commitment. “That would be a lot.”

My fear exactly. Dogs are work! I whined to Dr. Borns-Weil. “Well, I also have a ball python,” she offered. “They like to wrap around your arm and you only have to feed them once a week.” (Albeit “a defrosted medium-size rat.”) I floated the option to my family.

They prefer a dog. “But I’ll take a snake,” said my 8-year-old, “if we don’t have to share it.”

Rachel Levin is the author of Look Big: And Other Tips for Surviving Animal Encounters of All Kinds.

[drferox]

20 Questions with Dr Ferox #20

Sometimes it blows my mind how many questions and comments you all have and want to share. This makes 400 we’ve got to in this format. Once again I’ve tried to tag people, but if you sent a question on Anon you’ll have to look yourself to see if you were answered.

@crazy-aquarium-lady said: Do you have any experience with farm or large animals in general? Goats for instance?

I spent the first few years of my veterinary career working in mixed practice, which included large animals and goats. I really did enjoy goats, though they often weren't kept as seriously as other livestock, but I'd have to admit I'm somewhat out of practice with large animals.

Anonymous said: omg all of your animal names are incredible. i once met two cocker spaniels called Beans and Trousers and that was pretty amazing

Bean and Trousers are great names too

@sketchingblanks said: Hi there Dr. Fox! Thank you for your wonderful blog and all that you do. My dwarf hamster recently passed away at the age of 3 and I'm a wildlife rehabilitator who has dealt with animal death many times before, but it's never quite the same when it's one of your own. However it did make me wonder what is the smallest animal you have ever worked with? Was it more fun or challenging? Question tax: How do you take your tea? I usually have something herbal (like peppermint/spearmint) with honey.

The smallest patient I've personally dealt with was a mouse. But the finch with the broken leg was pretty close. Believe it or not I don’t actually drink tea.

Anonymous said: Question: have you ever treated an arthropod (specifically tarantulas, because they can rupture their abdomen pretty easily) or know someone who specializes in that? Because I'm quite interested in knowing if vets provide care to arthropods, or if its better for the owner to perform medical care to their tarantula at home (ICU's, helping a bad molt, treating hemolymph leaks, etc).

I haven't personally treated an arthropod, though I learned a bit about them during work experience at the Melbourne Aquarium, most of their medicine seemed to be 'just don't make them sick'. There are vets that will treat them though, the Bird & Exotic Animal Clinic is my go-to for exotics (you should check out their facebook page).

Anonymous said: You dont have to reply to this if you dont want to, i just wanted to say i have rats and i love them so much and i will do anything they need at the vets. Because idk i thought maybe you might need encouragement that there are people who prioritize exotic animals health. I hear a lot of stories of people that wont get vet care for their rats but not a lot about people who do. Thought it might give you a little bright light amongst all the dark. Have a great day youre amazing.

People like you are definitely out there. Thank you for your comment.

Anonymous said: just needed to blow off a bit of steam because this still annoys me, but my father told me that taking a hamster to the vet to make sure she's healthy before taking her to college with me as a support pet was "a waste of money." granted, he hasn't taken the family cat to the vet in about seven years, so he generally seems to think that veterinary care is a waste of money. i love my hammy and i just want to make sure she's healthy, but since she isn't a cat or dog, she's "not worth it"

Anon, sounds like your father would think any dollar spent at a vet clinic is a waste of money, regardless of what sort of animal it was. There's not much you can do to change people's minds about this, so just do what you need to do.

Anonymous said: It's amazing how many people don't understand how economics works. They seem to expect vets to do everything for free or for cheap, but if they did that, how could they afford to eat? And besides that, you guys DESERVE to be paid for your time and effort. I wish more people thought about it like that instead of just looking at their bill and thinking that their pet's life isn't worth that much. Thank you for everything you do.

Veterinary medicine is one of the fields where people seem to think it's criminal for a practice to make a profit. Most other professions are not vilified for making a wage, but we're expected to like our jobs enough to work for free. Partly this is our own fault because we start to believe it after a while but we do frequently undercharge, do desexing surgery at cost, and treat strays and wildlife for free. The difficulty is most of this charity is invisible

Anonymous said: I want to say thank you as well because I thought I wanted to become a vet for the longest time, but reading this blog among others has actually taught me that it probably wouldn't be right for me. Now I'm more interested in something like a research professor. The amount of respect I have for you is boundless. I love seeing your work and following you and I think it's a good thing that I stumbled across this blog. This way I won't be stuck in a career that I wouldn't like.

Being stuck doing something you don't really like isn't a fun place to be. I'm glad you've found some more options and hope everything works out great for you.

Anonymous said: My favourite part of your blog has always been your vet stories, so I've been curious -- What kind of case/problem gives you the most satisfaction to solve?

Anything where I actually find a treatable diagnosis. Animals that get better 'mysteriously' are great and all, but I want to know why. And getting the answer is only bitter sweet if the answer is catastrophic or terminal. EPI, Addison’s and reconstructive cases are my favourite, because you can do so much good for them.

@daedricprincessxoxo said: Cute story for happiness: So a nurse-for-people brought in her dog for a sick visit. Unlike most human med people I've met, she was so respectful of those of us in veterinary medicine, and absolutely fascinated by how similar it all was to human medicine. Not only was she a dream client, her dog had freckles on its nose, which the vet adored too. What was funny is when she referred to the dog's spay as a hysterectomy instead.

It's great when you get a good one instead of a know-it-all. Technically a dog spay is an ovariohysterectomy though, we take those pesky ovaries out too.

Anonymous said: Im a vet assistant at a local shelter, and while helping a family look at dogs they remarked to me, "yeah our daughter is allergic to dog FUR but not dog HAIR. Do you know which dogs have just hair?" Needless to say, i was a little speechless and just recommended a poodle. Theres no real difference....right?

It's only semantics but some people like to use it to feel special. Hair and fur are chemically the same, if you're really allergic to one you're allergic to both, but hair is finer and typically longer so either doesn't shed or sheds much more rarely. It's weirdly common for poodle owner to be proud that their dogs have hair instead of fur. As long as they end up loving the dog, it doesn't really matter.

Anonymous said: Here's one: I work at a pet store. A man came in asking for a remote electric shock collar for a 3 lb Yorkie. Told him we carried nothing small enough to be safe. He told me it wasn't for barking - he and his wife had cattle, and when they went to visit the herd the dog would go pelting towards the cows. He said, "I just need something to drop er so she don't get stomped." I suggested a leash. He replied, "Nah, she don't like leashes."

Nothing the general public does or says surprises me anymore.

Anonymous said: I have a natural English Cocker. Her tail is heavy, constantly wagging, and a hazard to any legs in the vicinity :) Where I am there's a lot of working cockers, and hunters will swear up and down that docking is necessary because they'll ruin their tails in the brambles, etc. I'm not convinced - my (pet) dog loves diving into thick cover and this has never been an issue. Their ears are surely more of a risk, I'd think, but no-one's trying to crop those. Is there any real merit to docking?

No, there is no real merit to docking healthy tails and you're correct in assuming the ears of cocker spaniels are far more problematic for these dogs. Cocker Spaniels are the most notorious breed for difficult, drug resistant ear infections, with quite a few of them requiring lateral or total ear canal ablation surgery, but nobody would even think about docking Cocker Spaniel ears. This is because docking and cropping are done for aesthetics, not function.

@cakeandpi said: A long time ago, I took my cat in to the vet because he was limping badly and did not want to be handled. Turns out, rather than breaking his leg or anything like that, his hip joint had essentially eroded away and - to quote - “looked like swiss cheese”. His leg was amputated and it healed nicely, though he never let anyone close to that part of his body again. He had a long, easy, and mobile life, until he was roughly 18 years old (he was a shelter rescue) when his kidneys finally gave out on him for good. Whatever happened to his hip bone, it was unusual enough that the vet sent a sample to a vet research clinic. It’s been a few years since my cat passed, and even more since his amputation, but it helps a little to think that that sample might one day help, I don’t know, with orthopedic research or something of the sort. Maybe. Question tax: I really like your fantasy-animal science posts!

I of course have no way of knowing where the hip bone went, but I'm sure somebody, somewhere will make use of it. Veterinary Medicine is advancing all the time, which is the best thing about science, and accumulating raw materials and data is critical for us to be able to do so.

Anonymous said: hi dr ferox! i love your blog! earlier today my sister cut our cat's claws with human nail trimmers. i know you're not supposed to do that, but i don't know why. i looked at his claws after she told me she did it and they don't look hurt. should i be worried? thank you so much!

I use human nail trimmers on my cats' nails all the time. It's fine if your technique is good, though they're not the easiest device to use for that purpose.

@gemma-handyman said: Dear Dr Ferox, I've tried to find the answer via google but have come up short. Do you know why some cats have such an affinity for loaves of bread? For instance, my grandmother's cat, Cece, would drag loaves beneath my grandmother's bed and fiercely protect the pilfered loaf. She's not the only cat I've heard of with a strange penchant for gluten and carbohydrates. Do you know why some cats love loaves of bread? Question tax: came for the mythical breed breakdowns- stayed for the irl info

Cats can digest carbohydrates, and from a metabolic point of view they're likely treating it as glycogen in terms of dehydration. Some cats like novel chewing textures, celery leaves is another common thing for cats to like, so may be just chewing it for fun.

Anonymous said: I want to be a vet tech but everyone always says I'm selling myself short... vet techs are just as useful right?

Of course they are. Have you ever seen a human hospital function without nurses?

Anonymous said: So our clinic has a batch of neonate puppies. 10 of them. I'm clearly not going to be able to sleep for the foreseeable future, as I'm on puppy duty. At least they're cute.

Good luck bottle feeding the little squeakers. They'll turn into waddling balls of chaos soon enough.

@fndm-trsh-sht said: my cat is a lil shit- but a cute lil shit- t h a t i s a l l- *slinks awaayyy*

Most cats are buddy, but we love them anyway.

Anonymous said: Something about the angle of trashbags ears reminds me of a goblin. Hes wonderful

He is a bit of a gremlin, he's starting to grow into his ears though.

[biofunmy]

9 Books to Help Calm an Anxious Toddler

These days, anxiety is on the rise in all age groups, and toddlers are not immune. Children’s books publishers have responded to the spike by producing more books aimed specifically at helping kids cope with all this ambient anxiety.

Of this new crop of books, I prefer those that aren’t overtly therapeutic. The best ones do deliver tips and strategies for dealing with oversize worries, but they are sly about it. After all, just reading the right book with your toddler can be a calming experience

[ This list is part of Story Times, a project from our children’s book editor to recommend the best books for young readers across all ages. ]

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This brilliant board book invites a child to “help” someone else who’s upset — which works wonders to induce a calmer state of mind. Little Rabbit has fallen down and scraped his arm, leaving a red mark. Your toddler is invited to “try blowing on it.” Uh-oh: On the next page, Little Rabbit wails, “There’s blood!” A Band-Aid (with bunnies on it, of course) appears. “Can you put it on?” comes next, but tears still stream down the distressed bunny’s face. And so on, until the bunny feels better — and, chances are, your toddler does too.

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‘Quiet,’ by Tomie dePaola

The esteemed creator of “Strega Nona,” who has practiced meditation for years, has made this beautifully spare picture book that teaches mindfulness to children in a non-preachy way. A grandfather, two grandchildren and a dog watch what’s around them: bees on a patch of flowers, a praying mantis climbing a lily stalk, a mother fox curled with her young in a hidden den. “My, oh my,” the grandfather says. “Everything is in such a hurry.” The family sits on a bench in order to relax, notice, see deeper and describe: a recipe for a peaceful state of mind.

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‘Here and Now,’ by Julia Denos. Illustrated by E.B. Goodale

Full of soft, detailed illustrations, this is another good book to help a kid slow down and become more mindful. It starts with an inarguable statement: “Right here, right now, you are reading this book.” Then it calls attention to events occurring elsewhere: ants building, ideas forming, animals living and breathing. One breathtaking spread shows an airplane carrying people, other people sitting below in a field, and the earthworms, fossils and rocks beneath them.

[ The topics new parents are talking about. Evidence-based guidance. Personal stories that matter. Visit NYT Parenting for everything you need to raise thriving babies and kids. ]

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Inspired by Milne’s own daughter’s struggles with anxiety and repetitive behaviors, this charming tale features a habit-bound dachshund who is called upon to rescue a friend stuck in a pipe. His success makes him so happy, he dares to vary his routine — just a little bit, at first. Little ones controlled by worries may find a ray of light in this pup’s small victory.

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‘Ping,’ by Ani Castillo

The poofy red creature in this wise book is here to demonstrate a crucial life lesson that can help small children with social anxiety: Go ahead and put yourself out there — what Castillo calls a Ping — but remember, you can’t control how other people will react — the Pong. The creature Pings by painting, singing and “expressing feelings that just need to burst out.” Then it’s time to breathe deeply, listen for Pongs and decide what to do in response. So many books these days offer kids social-emotional counsel; this one delivers down-to-earth ideas in a refreshingly direct package.

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For an agitated toddler, this lovely book is like a cool drink of water on a hot day. A child named Taylor, who’s wonderfully drawn to be either a boy or a girl, builds a block tower that falls down. Everyone who comes by to help, including a chicken and an elephant, is full of well-meaning advice. Only a silent rabbit offers what Taylor — like all of us — needs: the comfort of someone who will just listen, laugh and give a hug.

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‘I Am Loved,’ by Nikki Giovanni. Illustrated by Ashley Bryan2

Reading poetry, with its rhythm, repetition and incantational power, is a great way to create a mood of reassurance for an anxious child. This playful collection for children from the distinguished poet Nikki Giovanni and the distinguished illustrator Ashley Bryan focuses on the most reassuring thing of all — love — without being mushy. The short poems float by like feathers, encouraging children to tune into their own self-love as well as the embrace of their families and communities. Bryant’s colorful artwork is warm and welcoming.

‘Most People,’ by Michael Leannah. Illustrated by Jennifer E. Morris

Most people are good: That’s the simple message of this deeply reassuring book, and it couldn’t be more timely, given the conflict, stress and negativity even the littlest kids pick up from the grown-up world these days. Most people, we are reminded, also love to smile and want to help other people — in fact, there are many, many more good people than bad ones. There’s also a story unfolding here, as two characters play out the words we are reading.

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Sometimes a serene and philosophical picture book is just the thing to improve a frazzled mood and set the world right. In this one a bear and a wolf, out for nighttime walks, cross paths and decide to hike together, first through snowy winter vistas, then later through green springtime fields. Nothing much happens. Their peaceful companionship and mutual appreciation of sublime natural beauty are more than enough.

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Sahred From Source link Arts

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[captainschmoe]

I was tagged by @darling-bucky to answer 11 questions and come up with 11 of my own for the next people. Let’s get to it. I swear I don’t mean to write novels for answers but I guess I just looooove talking about myself too much just kill me Wilford

1. How do you feel about the concept of living forever?

         See, on the one hand, I’m scared of death and would love to live a much longer time than I’m currently forecasting I’d live. But the problem is that I don’t know how much my feelings on the topic would change after 30-50 years or so. And I definitely don’t think I’d want to live forever, though perhaps a longer time than normal for humans? I just want to see how the world progresses. That’s something that makes me down. That no one is able to see what the world looks like after they die.

         As far as the whole “but you’ll have to see everyone around you die!” Well... yeah. That is another huge problem. Such a problem could potentially be mitigated by the fact that I could potentially leave a big impact on the world at large, but... would I? Would I be significant enough of a figure to make this whole “living super long” thing worth it? Would I want to be a significant figure in society? Is that pressure I can handle?

         I’ll have to decline.

2. What’s your main fandom and how did you get into it?

         Obviously, my main fandom is the Youtuber communities, primarily Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, and Crankgameplays. They dominate my blog. I discovered Mark in September last year when I was visiting and old friend and she said “you HAVE to watch this guy, he’s hilarious.” And she showed me the Nota-Pe-Nis videos. (She was right.) And I kind of left him alone after that, but months later I saw other people here on Tumblr who would put Youtubers they liked to watch in their about pages, and he and Jacksepticeye, among others, cropped up a lot. For whatever reason (most likely randomly), I chose to watch Jack first, and I got extremely addicted to his energy and binge-watched all 99 episodes of Happy Wheels in a week or so. After that, I still wasn’t satisfied, so I started binge-watching Reading Your Comments.

         I don’t really remember what happened after that, like how I re-discovered Mark, or how I came across Ethan (I do know that I discovered Ethan through Mark, but even then, I don’t remember which video). At the time, my primary fandom was still Hetalia. It wasn’t until mid-April when I fully discovered Antisepticeye that my focus shifted entirely towards Youtubers, where it remains to this day.

         My other big fandom now is Pokemon, which I didn’t into until I was 14 or so. By that time, Diamond and Pearl were almost out. My first game was Colosseum for the Gamecube, because that was the system I played the most. I was inspired to get a Pokemon game after reading the Pokemon trophies in Super Smash Bros. Melee. Which I was inspired to get after watching a skit performed by a group of people for the middle school talent show (I liked them a lot and their skit was really funny).

3. What’s your ideal home? When you picture your future home, what do you see?

         Right here. I’m really attached to this place I grew up and spent my entire life in. I can’t really imagine myself living anywhere outside “the corridor” (what we call the area around Interstate 380). All of my relatives are here. All of my memories are here. I feel like this is just the place I belong?

         I love the countryside, I love the kind of place my grandparents have. Nice and peaceful, where I can run around with no one else to bother me. But that’s not very practical considering winter driving and all that. So I want to live in a more suburban area (which I currently do). I can’t decide whether I like old-timey or a modern aesthetic more, though I’m leaning more old-timey.

4. Storms or sunshine?

         Storms are really pretty and relaxing. I just like the grays and the mist.

5. What’s your earliest memory?

         See #9 below. My entire childhood is a blur. I’m honestly kind of envious of people who can clearly remember events from when they were little kids.

6. What’s your favorite movie, and movie genre?

         I never watch movies. If I had to pick a genre, it’d be either animated movies or nature documentaries. So many weird and wonderful things live in this world!

7. What are you passionate about?

         I have become so passionate about health and wellness since taking a job at the hospital. Disease, diet, lifestyle, mental stuff, you name it, I like it.

8. Night owl or morning person? Or both?

         I sleep from roughly 3:30 – 11:30 am. I’ve always been that person who stays up until the crack of dawn and sleeps until mid-afternoon, if left to my own devices. Plus I currently work second shift at work, which I chose specifically to play into my natural tendencies.

9. Have you ever broken a bone?

         Broke my right pinkie finger in second grade. It was during the winter, and we’d come in from recess, and I’m one of those lazy people who takes off shoes and boots by stepping on the heel instead of sitting down and pulling it off. To balance myself, I put my hand up on the wall. My coat hook – and thus the place I was standing – was the closest to the door, and I’d accidently put my finger in the space between the hinges. It slammed shut, and ta-da! Busted.

         I also broke a tooth in high school. During marching band season, while the rest of the band was outside practicing their formations, I and the other pit crew and the color guard were inside doing our stuff. I got slammed in the face with a flag that one of the other pit people decided to pick up and wave around while I walked behind her to get to the xylophone.

10. Do you have any pets?

         None living with me right now, sadly. I want a cat. Although, my folks have a dog that I still call my dog because I’m so attached to her. She’s a yorkie/chihuahua mix and she’s my favorite dog and I’m her favorite human. She’s the reason I love chihuahuas so much. They’re so cute and funny!

11. Free space. Tell me what’s on your mind!

         Endigo’s Youtuber songs are stuck in my head. The only way I can get one out is to put another one in.

         Also, fuck gnats.

And now I ask of you:

1. Any little quirks of yours?

2. What type of scenery appeals to you the most?

3. We all have them. Any cringey things you did as a tween?

4. Would you consider yourself philosophical?

5. I had to bring it up. Pineapple on pizza Y/N?

6. If you had to move to another country, which one?

7. What is your favorite name?

8. When was the last time you cried or got choked up for positive reasons?

9. Are there any bugs you think are actually kind of cute?

10. What is your dream job?

11. Are you a bad enough dude to rescue the President?

I ask these of @thatonebubblebitch, @crazilyawesomeme, @fear-is-nameless, @hufflepufftrax, @fsocietydotdat, @katielovesyoutubers35, @jacksinsanity, @huggiebird, @lisasepticsuperplier, and @melviiiis

[bazwillendinflames]

Saving Myself

@snowbaz-feda Agatha figures out she's ace and makes another dog walking friend. - I didn't realise I could save myself. I've spent years being the damsel in distress, waiting for Simon to rescue me. Years being the prize after the boss battle. I'm no longer the Princess Peach of Simon's story. Running away to California never felt like running away. It felt like escaping. I packed my credit card, sunglasses and my passport. I put on a summer dress and left my Ugg boots and thick winter jumper behind. The sun shone down on me as I got off the plane. I was free and alone and out of Simon's story into chapter one of my own. Lucy likes it here too. She runs around on her little legs. I spend my days on the beach with a book. Sometimes I pick up my phone and hover over Penny's number. She still texts me, although it's been a whole month and I don't reply. I don't want to tell her I'm sorry. Not when I finally have what I've always wanted. I can make my own story. I can be the protagonist. "Agatha?" A girl waves at me from away. I wave back, smiling. Maisie is another dog walker. Her puppy is twice Lucy's size and the most chilled dog I've ever met. Maisie reminds me of Penny in a way - she's stubborn and clever. But in other ways she reminds me of myself. We both have blond hair and fluffy dogs and want to live our own lives. "Ags." Maisie sits on the bench next to me and Sky rests her head on her lap. "You okay?" "I'm in California." I reply. Maisie grins back at me. Every time she asks, I give the same answer. "You really love Cali." Maisie ruffles her cropped hair. "It's a great place to run away to." I reply. "And I love the beach." "You never told me why you ran away." Maisie says. "Weather?" "Everything was more complicated when I was at Watford. There was so much pressure on me. To be this fair maiden that kisses the hero at the end." I sigh, looking away from Maisie and down at my sandals. "The Princess Peach?" I smile at Maisie. She gets it. "Exactly." "And you didn't want that?" She asks, nodding. "I get it." "I was happier before me and Simon started dating." It feels good to say it out loud. "I love him but not in the right way." "Yeah, I get it." Maisie runs her hand through her cropped hair again. "I was sixteen when I first kissed a boy and it felt so wrong." "Wrong how?" "No chemistry wrong." Maisie answers. "So I tried kissing other boys. And when that didn't make me feel anything either, I tried kissing girls. And then my non-binary friend Jazz. Nothing." "Nothing." I echo. I touch my lips without thinking. I didn't think other people felt the same way I did. "I figured it out eventually." Maisie grins. "God I was so happy when I realised I wasn't the only ace person out there. And then I looked at myself in the mirror and thought 'I still don't want to live alone, I'm buying a puppy'." Sky licks her hand and barks. "You just realised that..." I'm stumbling over my words. If Penny could see me now. "I didn't want that kind of love?" Maisie finishes. "Yeah, I did. And I've never been happier." Sky barks again, like she's agreeing. Maisie scratches her behind the ears. "Ace, like asexual?" I ask. I've heard the term before; one of Baz's friends had mentioned it. "Yep. And aromatic." Maisie answers. "What about you?" "I... I don't know." I tell her honestly. I didn't think it was an option. That someone like me - who had been admired and told I'll make someone happy one day in a future I've always dreaded - could not be with anyone. It sounds freeing. "Oh." Maisie pats my arm gently. "Still figuring things out?" "I am." I scratch Sky too. She closes her eyes happily. "I'm here for you." Maisie says. I know she means it because her dark eyes are fixed on me and filled with something that lets me know she has my back. "Whether your ace, aro or anything else. Best friends right?" "Of course." I lean over Sky and hug Maisie. It's unexpected for both of us. Still she holds on. I sit in the warm sun. I've saved myself and that's just chapter one. Figuring out if I'm ace, aro or anything else is the rest of the story. And I know I have a friend who will support me.

[doberbutts]

Yeah, I looked it up in the breed club after I posted that, because the standard just says 'moderately short' and I couldn't tell if that meant like a 50% dock or if the tail is naturally shorter. Apparently the tail is naturally shorter so there we go, even the border terrier addition years from now will be natural.

So that means with luck none of my future dogs will be cropped or docked. Swissies and chihuahuas never. Future breeds include dobe (and the dobe breeders I want to support will let me have 100% natural), dutch (never), and border terrier (never). It's a non-issue at this point. I've always wanted a natural dog. I am not the person who cropped or docked either of my dobermans, one of which was a rescue. People annoying me about my dead dog's ears have changed literally nothing because I didn't want to crop/dock *before* I got my dobermans and I still don't want to now.

[nancygduarteus]

America’s Ugliest Apples and Carrots Have Ignited a Food War

Do you know what baby carrots actually are?

For me, the baby-carrot jig was up a couple years ago. I’m not sure what I’d believed about them previously: Were they actual babies? Were they a “baby” breed of small adult carrots? I certainly hadn’t understood them to be carrot nuggets, whittled out of big, ugly carrots that many people wouldn’t buy in their natural state.

I’ve never lived in a world that wanted me to think about how the carrots got made. Since the early 1980s, scores of smaller American agricultural companies have been driven out of business or gobbled up by Big-Ag conglomerates. That I hadn’t thought much about my little carrots meant the system had worked as intended for the type of consumer I am (affluent, urban) and helped obscure the leviathan of the American food-supply chain, which includes everything from commercial growers and processors like Dole and Kraft Heinz down to local farmers’ markets and food banks.

But as shoppers change, so must the systems that serve them. Younger, socially conscious Americans and their concerns about sustainability have turned some unflattering attention toward the food industry. One of the most popularly cited problems is the amount of produce that goes entirely unconsumed in the developed world. By some estimations, it’s more than half. To combat that, a new class of for-profit start-ups has emerged: ugly-produce boxes. Companies like Misfits Market, Imperfect Produce, and Hungry Harvest aim to fill the logistical gaps and provide new markets for growers by buying up farmers’ “ugly” or excess produce and shipping it directly to your doorstep, often by subscription. They’re the rescue dogs of vegetation.

If successful, ugly-produce companies could help with the vanishingly thin margins faced by smaller-scale growers and expand access to fresh food. But not everyone is buying it: Food-justice advocates argue that profit-based solutions are unequipped to do battle against food inequality, and that even well-meaning companies could do real harm to community organizations. Depending on who you ask, ugly produce is either the salvation or destruction of America’s food system. The reality of its potential impact might be a little more complicated, with start-ups profiting from the food system’s structural problems while also providing real, material good for working-class people.

It seems as though “ugly” produce companies didn’t anticipate the criticism they’ve received. On a fundamental level, some researchers question whether Americans’ understanding of food waste as a crisis actually reflects the problem at hand. Last week on Twitter, the crop scientist Sarah Taber wrote a long thread arguing that ugly produce isn’t the problem or solution. “The food system is a hot mess but using ugly produce is one thing it’s actually really good at,” she says in the thread. In her estimation, my carrot nuggets are proof of concept: Odd produce might not go to Whole Foods, but much of it still does go to stores that serve working-class people, or gets sent to processors who turn it into salsa or apple juice. (Taber did not return a request for comment.)

The vast majority of American produce does indeed make it to a packinghouse for processing and distribution, but farmers point out that efficiency varies wildly depending on what kind of producer you are. According to David Earle, the business manager for the farm collective Tuscarora Organic Growers Cooperative, in Pennsylvania, around 20 percent of the produce from his organization’s small growers doesn’t meet stringent grocery-store or restaurant standards. “If they don’t sell because we don’t have an outlet and we have too much product, they’d likely just go bad,” he says.

Dana Gunders, a food-sustainability researcher who wrote the Natural Resources Defense Council’s 2012 report on food waste, says that Tuscarora’s problem is not unique for growers of its size. “You wind up with a situation at times where it actually does not make financial sense to harvest the product,” she says. Tuscarora has started distributing its excess produce through the ugly-produce-box company Misfits Market, and Earle says it’s been a boon to the business. “It’s good for us. It’s good for the farmer who’s not getting nothing for the product,” he says. “Misfits Market gave us an outlet to move these products and not just feed them to the cows.”

Other farmers are less enthusiastic. Terra Organics, based in Washington, shut down at the end of last year, and its owners cited the emergence of ugly-produce companies as among the reasons it was going out of business. In an interview with The New Republic, Imperfect Produce, the start-up that serves Terra Organics’ former community, conceded that it works with industrial-scale producers like Dole to source food, which critics say can make these start-ups an ally of exactly the food system that creates waste and hunger in the first place. If affluent consumers can feel as if they’re making ethical purchases while enjoying the savings and convenience of wonky vegetables delivered from commercial producers, they might be less likely to buy from local producers and cooperatives.

“People have been struggling for a couple decades now to bring their food system under local control,” says Eric Holt-Giménez, the executive director of the food-justice organization Food First. “There’s no indication [the ugly-produce movement] helps to do that at all.” Holt-Giménez questions whether it would even be possible to run an ugly-produce business with the kind of ethical standards that would benefit the greater good. “They’ve got to grow, as start-ups. They can’t change that,” he says. “They can’t think about a shared, more cooperative, more collective business model with communities.”

Misfits Market, at least, seems intent on trying to do things the right way. Abhi Ramesh, the company’s founder and CEO, says that his company doesn’t work with Big Ag and instead targets local, organic producers for its purchasing. Misfits gives them access to a network they can use not just to sell more produce, but also to reach consumers who might not otherwise have access to their food. According to a 2009 report by the United States Department of Agriculture, more than 20 million Americans live in food deserts, which means they lack meaningful access to affordable, high-quality, fresh foods; the disparity disproportionately affects black and Latino populations. “The reasons those people don’t have access today is because it’s not cost-effective to service them,” Ramesh says. “So our big challenge from a business perspective is how we figure out a way to service them in an economically feasible way.”

Critics often dismiss sentiments like this as sly, do-gooder marketing. Most ugly-produce companies deliver only to select zip codes in major urban areas, which is yet another barrier to the historically deprived. “It’s assumed people who end up buying these boxes are wealthier people who want to feel good about saving the environment,” Ramesh acknowledges. But he says that the majority of his company’s customers don’t fit that stereotype, largely because it services every zip code in the states in which it operates. “They’re older, they’re on fixed incomes,” Ramesh says of Misfit’s customers. “They may not be on food stamps, but they end up falling into a socioeconomic bucket where they need access to affordable produce.” Ramesh says the company is also looking into ways to accept federal SNAP benefits, which help the lowest-income Americans afford fresh foods. (Misfits Market doesn’t publicly release sales data, including consumer demographics.)

Some food-justice advocates encourage ugly-produce start-ups to go even further. In December, Phat Beets Produce, an Oakland-based organization that provides community-supported affordable produce, released a petition with a set of demands for an ugly-produce competitor, Imperfect Produce. Phat Beets, which did not respond to a request for comment, wants the company and those like it to provide in-person payment and pickup options to serve people without access to banking services, coordinate free deliveries to food-justice organizations and food banks, and limit grower partnerships to those who comply with farm-worker labor standards.

Meanwhile, other community food organizations have found it possible to work productively with ugly-food companies, despite worries that their success means diverting food away from people in need. Kait Bowdler, the director of sustainability for Philabundance, Philadelphia’s largest community food bank, says the two start-ups that service the area haven’t created any issues for her organization. “We have bigger problems we should be worried about,” Bowdler says. Philabundance hasn’t seen any drop-off in donations from growers since Misfits Market and Hungry Harvest became popular in the city. And normalizing the consumption of less-than-pristine produce can help alleviate the shame that some people feel when they need to get food from the bank, Bowdler says. “You can’t imagine how many different strategies we’ve had to talk about to make it clear to people that we’re recovering and rescuing food, not feeding people waste.”

Where Philabundance has seen recent donation shortages is from grocery stores. Bowdler credits that in part to stores’ expanding prepared-foods selections, which appeal to younger shoppers and allow retailers to reuse produce internally once it can no longer be sold in its original form. According to Gunder, the food-sustainability researcher, that dynamic is also connected to America’s food-waste problem, but it comes on the opposite end of the system. “Fruits and vegetables are the most wasted products in people’s homes,” she says. Based on her research, that’s where most waste happens overall.

Between kitchen-skill loss among younger Americans and the ever-dwindling opportunity to spend time preparing food, Millennials just don’t cook very much, even if they intend to. As a result, a lot of food goes uneaten for reasons that sales-based start-ups can’t touch. At least in the immediate future, that could present a bigger obstacle to feeding the poor than a disruption from ugly-produce boxes.

Moreover, just because ugly-produce start-ups aren’t doing all of the good doesn’t mean they can’t do some of it. Maybe both things are true: These businesses, if well run, can serve genuine needs for farmers and consumers that current agribusiness can’t. They’re also trying to retrofit a for-profit solution onto a supply chain that’s classist, racist, and opposed to the integrity of community-based food systems. The only real, long-term answer to those problems might be to rebuild the American food system as a whole. But maybe venture capital can be used to feed some people in the meantime.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/01/ugly-produce-startups-food-waste/581182/?utm_source=feed

[ionecoffman]

America’s Ugliest Apples and Carrots Have Ignited a Food War

Do you know what baby carrots actually are?

For me, the baby-carrot jig was up a couple years ago. I’m not sure what I’d believed about them previously: Were they actual babies? Were they a “baby” breed of small adult carrots? I certainly hadn’t understood them to be carrot nuggets, whittled out of big, ugly carrots that many people wouldn’t buy in their natural state.

I’ve never lived in a world that wanted me to think about how the carrots got made. Since the early 1980s, scores of smaller American agricultural companies have been driven out of business or gobbled up by Big-Ag conglomerates. That I hadn’t thought much about my little carrots meant the system had worked as intended for the type of consumer I am (affluent, urban) and helped obscure the leviathan of the American food-supply chain, which includes everything from commercial growers and processors like Dole and Kraft Heinz down to local farmers’ markets and food banks.

But as shoppers change, so must the systems that serve them. Younger, socially conscious Americans and their concerns about sustainability have turned some unflattering attention toward the food industry. One of the most popularly cited problems is the amount of produce that goes entirely unconsumed in the developed world. By some estimations, it’s more than half. To combat that, a new class of for-profit start-ups has emerged: ugly-produce boxes. Companies like Misfits Market, Imperfect Produce, and Hungry Harvest aim to fill the logistical gaps and provide new markets for growers by buying up farmers’ “ugly” or excess produce and shipping it directly to your doorstep, often by subscription. They’re the rescue dogs of vegetation.

If successful, ugly-produce companies could help with the vanishingly thin margins faced by smaller-scale growers and expand access to fresh food. But not everyone is buying it: Food-justice advocates argue that profit-based solutions are unequipped to do battle against food inequality, and that even well-meaning companies could do real harm to community organizations. Depending on who you ask, ugly produce is either the salvation or destruction of America’s food system. The reality of its potential impact might be a little more complicated, with start-ups profiting from the food system’s structural problems while also providing real, material good for working-class people.

It seems as though “ugly” produce companies didn’t anticipate the criticism they’ve received. On a fundamental level, some researchers question whether Americans’ understanding of food waste as a crisis actually reflects the problem at hand. Last week on Twitter, the crop scientist Sarah Taber wrote a long thread arguing that ugly produce isn’t the problem or solution. “The food system is a hot mess but using ugly produce is one thing it’s actually really good at,” she says in the thread. In her estimation, my carrot nuggets are proof of concept: Odd produce might not go to Whole Foods, but much of it still does go to stores that serve working-class people, or gets sent to processors who turn it into salsa or apple juice. (Taber did not return a request for comment.)

The vast majority of American produce does indeed make it to a packinghouse for processing and distribution, but farmers point out that efficiency varies wildly depending on what kind of producer you are. According to David Earle, the business manager for the farm collective Tuscarora Organic Growers Cooperative, in Pennsylvania, around 20 percent of the produce from his organization’s small growers doesn’t meet stringent grocery-store or restaurant standards. “If they don’t sell because we don’t have an outlet and we have too much product, they’d likely just go bad,” he says.

Dana Gunders, a food-sustainability researcher who wrote the Natural Resources Defense Council’s 2012 report on food waste, says that Tuscarora’s problem is not unique for growers of its size. “You wind up with a situation at times where it actually does not make financial sense to harvest the product,” she says. Tuscarora has started distributing its excess produce through the ugly-produce-box company Misfits Market, and Earle says it’s been a boon to the business. “It’s good for us. It’s good for the farmer who’s not getting nothing for the product,” he says. “Misfits Market gave us an outlet to move these products and not just feed them to the cows.”

Other farmers are less enthusiastic. Terra Organics, based in Washington, shut down at the end of last year, and its owners cited the emergence of ugly-produce companies as among the reasons it was going out of business. In an interview with The New Republic, Imperfect Produce, the start-up that serves Terra Organics’ former community, conceded that it works with industrial-scale producers like Dole to source food, which critics say can make these start-ups an ally of exactly the food system that creates waste and hunger in the first place. If affluent consumers can feel as if they’re making ethical purchases while enjoying the savings and convenience of wonky vegetables delivered from commercial producers, they might be less likely to buy from local producers and cooperatives.

“People have been struggling for a couple decades now to bring their food system under local control,” says Eric Holt-Giménez, the executive director of the food-justice organization Food First. “There’s no indication [the ugly-produce movement] helps to do that at all.” Holt-Giménez questions whether it would even be possible to run an ugly-produce business with the kind of ethical standards that would benefit the greater good. “They’ve got to grow, as start-ups. They can’t change that,” he says. “They can’t think about a shared, more cooperative, more collective business model with communities.”

Misfits Market, at least, seems intent on trying to do things the right way. Abhi Ramesh, the company’s founder and CEO, says that his company doesn’t work with Big Ag and instead targets local, organic producers for its purchasing. Misfits gives them access to a network they can use not just to sell more produce, but also to reach consumers who might not otherwise have access to their food. According to a 2009 report by the United States Department of Agriculture, more than 20 million Americans live in food deserts, which means they lack meaningful access to affordable, high-quality, fresh foods; the disparity disproportionately affects black and Latino populations. “The reasons those people don’t have access today is because it’s not cost-effective to service them,” Ramesh says. “So our big challenge from a business perspective is how we figure out a way to service them in an economically feasible way.”

Critics often dismiss sentiments like this as sly, do-gooder marketing. Most ugly-produce companies deliver only to select zip codes in major urban areas, which is yet another barrier to the historically deprived. “It’s assumed people who end up buying these boxes are wealthier people who want to feel good about saving the environment,” Ramesh acknowledges. But he says that the majority of his company’s customers don’t fit that stereotype, largely because it services every zip code in the states in which it operates. “They’re older, they’re on fixed incomes,” Ramesh says of Misfit’s customers. “They may not be on food stamps, but they end up falling into a socioeconomic bucket where they need access to affordable produce.” Ramesh says the company is also looking into ways to accept federal SNAP benefits, which help the lowest-income Americans afford fresh foods. (Misfits Market doesn’t publicly release sales data, including consumer demographics.)

Some food-justice advocates encourage ugly-produce start-ups to go even further. In December, Phat Beets Produce, an Oakland-based organization that provides community-supported affordable produce, released a petition with a set of demands for an ugly-produce competitor, Imperfect Produce. Phat Beets, which did not respond to a request for comment, wants the company and those like it to provide in-person payment and pickup options to serve people without access to banking services, coordinate free deliveries to food-justice organizations and food banks, and limit grower partnerships to those who comply with farm-worker labor standards.

Meanwhile, other community food organizations have found it possible to work productively with ugly-food companies, despite worries that their success means diverting food away from people in need. Kait Bowdler, the director of sustainability for Philabundance, Philadelphia’s largest community food bank, says the two start-ups that service the area haven’t created any issues for her organization. “We have bigger problems we should be worried about,” Bowdler says. Philabundance hasn’t seen any drop-off in donations from growers since Misfits Market and Hungry Harvest became popular in the city. And normalizing the consumption of less-than-pristine produce can help alleviate the shame that some people feel when they need to get food from the bank, Bowdler says. “You can’t imagine how many different strategies we’ve had to talk about to make it clear to people that we’re recovering and rescuing food, not feeding people waste.”

Where Philabundance has seen recent donation shortages is from grocery stores. Bowdler credits that in part to stores’ expanding prepared-foods selections, which appeal to younger shoppers and allow retailers to reuse produce internally once it can no longer be sold in its original form. According to Gunder, the food-sustainability researcher, that dynamic is also connected to America’s food-waste problem, but it comes on the opposite end of the system. “Fruits and vegetables are the most wasted products in people’s homes,” she says. Based on her research, that’s where most waste happens overall.

Between kitchen-skill loss among younger Americans and the ever-dwindling opportunity to spend time preparing food, Millennials just don’t cook very much, even if they intend to. As a result, a lot of food goes uneaten for reasons that sales-based start-ups can’t touch. At least in the immediate future, that could present a bigger obstacle to feeding the poor than a disruption from ugly-produce boxes.

Moreover, just because ugly-produce start-ups aren’t doing all of the good doesn’t mean they can’t do some of it. Maybe both things are true: These businesses, if well run, can serve genuine needs for farmers and consumers that current agribusiness can’t. They’re also trying to retrofit a for-profit solution onto a supply chain that’s classist, racist, and opposed to the integrity of community-based food systems. The only real, long-term answer to those problems might be to rebuild the American food system as a whole. But maybe venture capital can be used to feed some people in the meantime.

Article source here:The Atlantic