Zoe the bird

Let me explain the title for this post for those of you who either don’t pay attention, or are new to my wonderful crazy zoo. I have a 5 year old cat named Zoey. She is my monster and my kitten, I love her dearly. I now have a parakeet named Zoe. It is very hard in a household where the human members constantly talk to the animals, and you hear from the other room, “Zooohhhieeeeeeeee, what are you doooooooing?” and have to wonder exactly which Z animal is being talked to.

Zoe came into my life because I recently had a female parakeet, whom was rescued from deplorable conditions, pass away. Both her and her mate were never properly named when they were with their captors, and they never really got names here other than “Little Parakeets.” After she passed, I became distressed for her lovely mate being a solo parakeet. They are extremely social animals, and I feel it to be very cruel to take one, especially since they had been together (presumably) all their lives, and make him a loner. I went to the Humane Society and got a male/female pair named Tiki and Banana. All three birds LOVED each other when they were placed together, and have had a great time until recently.

Poor Banana, being the only female, was constantly harassed by my mate-less yellow boy, and her own mate Tiki. The stress on her was apparent, and she was separated from them for a few hours of the day so she could have a break. This lifestyle seemed unfair to her and her boys. I searched around craigslist and the Humane Societies (via petfinder) looking for a single female parakeet, or a pair of bonded females, to bring home. I was having terrible luck.  Even while surfing the Humane Societies websites, a lot of parakeets were labeled the wrong sex. Other people feel that it is acceptable to force me to pay for their mistaken purchase threefold and take all of the accessories, that I really don’t need, to give their neglected (often damaged) birds a new home. I was becoming distraught. I adopted Tiki and Banana from the Humane society for $16, without accessories. I felt this fair, as they are unsocialized adult birds.

I had peeled back my search quite a bit, figuring this was the wrong time of year to be hunting for a single or pair of female parakeets. We were helping Banana relax as much as possible during this time.

By wondrous fortune, I decided to have a look late in the night for postings at craigslist. It just so happens that the second post was for a female parakeet looking for a new home due to unforseen changes in her current home.  Her owner and I exchanged several emails. Then we chatted on the phone. He seemed very pleased with me, and I made my way to get Zoe and bring her home. This kind man was looking for a good home for his precious bird, and I have a lot of avian experience. True, most of my bird keeping has been during my extremely younger years, but I have practically grown up with cockatiels and parakeets. All of them have been rescued, all of them have been damaged. When they got here, all of them were only expected to eat – poo – sleep – and be birds in this household. He sent me on my way with 6 month old Zoe, her cage, some food, bedding, and all of her toys and accessories for free. I made it clear that if he ever wanted an update on her, he need not hesitate and email me at anytime.

Zoe came home with me on December 7th, 2009.

If she isn’t the most endearing bird I have ever met! All of my birds are bestowed with toys beyond their wildest dreams, but Zoe is the first bird I have had that constantly plays with her toys! She is energetic and carefree! She also rules the house! Chip the cockatiel is allowed to roam free twenty-four hours a day. Zoe had been used to flying in her previous home, so we decided she should have that freedom here. We thought perhaps that Banana and Zoe should be cage mates, while the boys were left to their own devices. Apparently, Banana is not a fan of Zoe. We didn’t push their relationship after the first 10 minutes. Then it was decided we would let all of the birds “free range” and see who attracted who.

Zoe was too busy for all of that nonsense.

She had to explore the two cages that were new to her. Chip the cockatiel was very reluctant to let her be in his domain, but she is nimble and stealthy. She is quite often seen sitting on his perches, eating his food, or swinging on his swing. He has pretty much given up on her, but will not allow her to land on the top of his cage if he is up there, and she is absolutely restricted from the bottom of his cage. She makes it all seem like it is her idea to let him have his way. She also likes to explore the other parakeet cage. She will chase the other little birds around trying to get them to play. Their toys are now her toys, but she allows them to keep them for her. Zoe likes to practice acrobatics on her own swing, either going to her rings, or hanging from her lantern. She will also pick a seed from her dish, fly to her mirror and feed herself. As the days pass, she uses her mirror less and less, but socializes with the other birds more. Just yesterday, she was viewed playing in her bird bath. She will actually roll over and shiver her body in the water before bouncing out and begin preening herself.

She is an absolute joy!

When it is time for bed (a word she has learned quickly), she will flee from her cage and become a nuisance. She does not like bed time for birds, it is always too early. Usually my little yellow male is in her cage, as they have taken a keen interest in each other. Sometimes they will pick up seeds and feed one another. Other times, Tiki is in her cage when it is bed time, and he is left in there because it is too difficult to make him leave.

Zoe tries to coax the other parakeets out of the cages to explore with her. Since it is fairly apparent that her and the yellow male have bonded, they are often found in Chips cage playing with his toys. He will also follow her to her own cage and she must show off her toys, but he is scolded if he touches them. He seems to adore her.

My new little bundle of feathered joy has been a blessing. She is bringing the other parakeets out of their shells. She is teaching them how to fly, and how to play. She is also harassing Chip, which he so desperately complains about, but welcomes. She makes her people giggle daily.

I am coming to the conclusion that her temperament has a big part to do with her name. She is a little queen, just as Zoey the cat is. This is her house, and the humans here are only allowed to be here by her good graces (another Zoey the cat trait).

I can’t imagine my life without either one of them.

Insanity in the form of a broken hygrometer

It is official. In less than a year three lives have been claimed in this house.

The first to go, was never really alive when it was brought here to serve me. Petco failed me with its brand name hygrometer (and temperature gauge twin pack) that frankly didn’t work. It never registered above 60%, even when my crabitat was so damp it was practically raining. The dial did move, but it just didn’t make any sense when it stopped.

The second murder was that of a digital monster. For a few weeks, Flukers brand temp/humidity gauge did as it was told, but I found it strange that even my hermit crabs could use the buttons and confuse this machine into displaying the most gruesome numbers: 999 degrees and 99% humidity. Brave was well known for taking this hygrometer for a walk, and hanging onto it with his biggest pincher, allegedly trying to smash it into bits. The humidity part of this contraption went out long before the temperature, but ultimately failed in less than a year. Upon the autopsy of the second body, it was noted that the circuit board had rust on it. I’m pretty sure I was taken for the fool shopper I am.

The third body seems to have suffered from a terrible accident. Exo-terra brand hygrometer proved to be a very hardy instrument, until the morning I found it floating in the water dish. Allegedly this accidental death was perpetrated by a crab just wanting to dig down near the home-made hidey. The tool on the back of the apparatus had rusted and human tinkering finally crippled this poor hygrometer.

I am having the worst luck with the mechanical aspect of keeping hermit crabs! My UTH glue began falling off a few weeks back, and I had to use ingenuity to make sure that wad of money didn’t get thrown in the trash. My first temperature gauge was thrown out after an unfortunate accident where the sticky on the back didn’t do it’s job, and I knocked it off of it’s perch where it fell to it’s death (shattering into pieces). Now approximately $40 worth of humidity gauges are in the graveyard. Less than a year!

Welcome Back Spidey!

I got my first photo of Spidey today. I haven’t seen him since September 18th.  This would be Spidey’s second successful molt since he came home with me January 1, 2009.

Blood Sugar

It was a week into the New Year of 2008, approximately 10 minutes after my regular veterinary office closes. I heard a yell from the living room about blood. Dashing out to the room, it was quite apparent that someone had bled onto a plastic bag one of the cats uses for amusement. A short trail led to the litter box where more blood was apparent. Having three cats in one household, we scampered around to the obvious candidate. Quick assumptions led us to the cat who plays with plastic bags, but unfortunately there was no evidence that she was the one who was bleeding. Upon checking the second litter box in the house, more blood was found. The second cat to be grabbed was Peeps, and we found her to be our bleeder. Blood was still trickling out of her, falling down the backside of her rear legs. That is when the panic set in. It took about 30 minutes on the phone to get the phone number for an emergency veterinary office, call them with details, and finally get directions to the facility for treatment. It was another 35-40 minutes to drive to the office. The entire drive was filled with tears and dreading decisions too horrible to contemplate.

Not one peep out of Peeps the cat, very disturbing due to her namesake.

Once at the emergency clinic, Peeps was whisked away for tests and fluids. A nerve racking stay in a tiny examination room allowed my mind to wander. The worse case scenario held most of my attention -  would I have to make a decision to put her to sleep this night?

–

Peeps has been extremely lucky in her life. She escaped several years ago through a window air condition unit. We couldn’t catch her, we couldn’t bribe her. She was outside for 4 weeks, and all I could do was bait the live trap and watch her get smaller and smaller. One night a raccoon fell for the live trap. Once the raccoon was removed from the property, we had reset the trap and went to bed. During the entirety of Peeps stay outside, we left the porch door open so she could find shelter, and perhaps even ask to be let in. This was the night. Late evening, everyone almost asleep, and there is a scratch and a mewing at the door. It was my Peeps. She looked absolutely horrible. Promises were made to me that she would be taken to the veterinary promptly in the morning to get a check up. She slept the entire night. Upon visiting the veterinarian, it was made fact that she had lost over half her weight, and barely sat at 3 pounds. Coaxing her to eat the previous night had not worked, and the veterinarian was concerned that she was going into organ failure and there was nothing to be done. We were sold nutrient rich treats- that she had eaten at the office-, given phone numbers to call with any questions, and sent home with antibiotics for her inflamed eyeball. She ate a few pebbles of kitty food within a few hours of returning home. She regained strength and weight quickly, but her eye remained a problem. It had begun to shrink in the socket, and antibiotics were not helping with the horrible color of red that was appearing. The veterinarian gave us options of a life long – and probably hopeless- regiment of antibiotics, or removal of the eye. A lot of facts were thrown at the family, and the decision to remove her left eyeball was made. She was spayed at the same time.

–

The veterinarian finally came back to the room full of hopelessness to talk with us. Peeps had been diagnosed with a severe bladder infection. She was to be given antibiotics, and an appointment was to be made with her regular doctor to be seen after the course was finished. My fears were alleviated. We were on our way out the door with about a $475 bill,  hope for a future, and a cat who weighed 6 pounds less than her previous veterinarian visit.

Eleven days later, she went to see the most hated person in her life, her regular veterinarian. Luckily, her urine was completely healthy. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with diabetes. This is about the time my expression went as blank as my thoughts. Diabetes? In a cat? In my cat? So much information was given at this time, I couldn’t have kept it straight with a tape recorder and extremely slow articulation. The information beat into my head was, regular bi-weekly blood draws, and how to give a finicky cat a poke with a needle twice a day. Peeps was started on half a unit of Vetsulin twice a day. The bi-weekly checkups would be to monitor her blood glucose level and make changes to her insulin as needed. I was furious, not at my vet, not at my cat, not even at my luck. Peeps had been to a different veterinarian in a different city for a possible bladder infection only three months earlier. One of the questions I asked, more than once, “Could this be a sign of diabetes?” Which was answered, without pause, “No, it cannot be diabetes.”

Many months were spent finding information, then attempting to dissect the information to fit my crazy world. Peeps is a picky eater. She has been given a chance to try any and all people foods, and numerous types of kitty treats. She prefers dry cat food, venison jerky, saltine crackers, and more recently, jelly, to everything else offered. Her blood glucose levels were all over the place. At a time, she was up to 5 units of Vetsulin twice a day. It fluctuated back down to about 2 and a half units twice a day. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I tried feeding her a wet diet. She would rather starve than eat wet food. The veterinarian suggested a prescription dry diet, specially made for the finicky diabetic cat. Her blood levels had become quite regular for quite a few of her checkups, and it was decided she could start coming in monthly for blood draws.

Exactly one month after her last blood draw, my endurance of long lasting heart acceleration was tested. I walked into my bedroom and saw Peeps laying on the floor. This disturbed me for two reasons. The first reason was extremely logical, she is about 10 years old, and I’ve never seen her laying on the floor in my bedroom, in the open. The second reason gave me the burst of heart beats, she was laying in an unnatural position. I lurched at her, which should have gotten a flight response, but she only mewed. I attempted to get her to stand on all fours, but her rear legs were completely stiff. Instantly, all the information I had pulled on diabetic cats flashed before my eyes, and in bold was the word: HYPOGLYCEMIA. I grabbed her off the floor, put her on the living room chair, and ran for the Karo Syrup. I had purchased this as a safety net because my mind always raced to the ‘what if’ scenarios, because it is just my damned luck. I filled a syringe and sprayed it into her mouth. Almost instantly she got up to run away. This is when I gave her some jelly to lap off a dish while I called the emergency veterinarians, once again.

They listened carefully as I replayed the last 5 minutes backwards to 9 months prior when she had originally visited this clinic for a severe bladder infection. I was advised to bring her in for intensive monitoring, in case she was still suffering from hypoglycemia, and if organ failure had occurred. I immediately left for the office, and sped there. If anyone, police or citizen, was daft enough to try to stop me, they were in for the drama of their lifetime. Luckily, I killed no one and didn’t even get caught in my burst of illegal activities. Peeps was once again immediately taken from me and whisked away to an unknown backroom with an unknown future. There were several other people in the waiting room, and more people arriving in fairly consistent intervals. Her hypoglycemic attack had happened in the late afternoon. I was bombarded with forms and questions. The question that almost broke me down was, “If her heart stops for any reason, do we have authorization to start it again?” This is another time in my life that a blank stare matched my blank mind. Would it be humane to start her heart again and give her a chance, or more humane to let her body have the say in whether she lives or dies? I signed the form. The lady who spoke with me tried to be optimistic and continuously repeated that it’s a standard form, and they do not expect my beloved Peeps to pass. Then came the time to pay the bill. I had grabbed my debit card, but the payment would not go through. I was hysterical because I thought they would decline her care if I could not pay. I asked if perhaps they could take $250 now, as I seem to remember putting a daily limit on my charges when I opened the account. The $250 went through and I was told it was a decent good faith payment, but they would expect the rest when I claimed her. I brought the remaining $128 in cash just to be sure. Then I got into my car and begun my hysterics for the entire drive home and a few hours in my bed.

Peeps was monitored for fifteen hours. Her blood glucose went from 69 to 192 in the first two hours she was there. Two hours later, she was at 258. Another hour later I was given a courtesy update phone call. No more blood glucose tests were done for the rest of the night. I was advised to not give her any insulin and get into my regular veterinarian as soon as possible to reevaluate her situation. She was into the regular veterinarian within 9 hours.

A month after I almost killed my cat by giving her too much insulin was her last blood test at the veterinary office. I took the matters into my own hands and decided to home test. From the time she had her hypoglycemic attack to this point, she has been a diet controlled diabetic. Her home testing levels on the first curve I did were between 70 and 91. All of her numbers until this date have been extremely acceptable. Testing her has been quite lax as of lately, because she is doing so well on her diet.

Choosing, purchasing, and coaxing a human glucose meter for feline use was the hassle of a lifetime. Everyone has their preferred brand. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has several answers for the same question. I settled on an Accu-Check Active glucose monitor. The lady behind the counter at the pharmacy went into a long speech about how this is covered by insurance. I told her I did not have insurance. She then told me that there are aids out there to help with my purchase of the testing equipment. I once again declined, but she would not relent. I finally snapped at her that I would not qualify for any of these offers because I am not the diabetic, it is for my cat. I received a stare of disbelief and confusion. Finally, I was sold the meter.  I got it home and it would not work. I returned to the store to do a refund. I was argued with that they would not give me a refund because the item in question deals with blood, and they can not resale it. I was given no options other than to walk out the door, which doesn’t set well with my personality. I argued. It was finally brought up that I had to purchase three or four other boxes to get a tab to make the meter work. I purchased these boxes and stamped my way out of the store. I had to call the company to ask for help with the meter. I could not get it to read human or feline blood. The company offered me an exchange. In some sort of confusion, I was sent two new meters, a box of strips, and three boxes of the testing solution. Many more calls with the company helped me figure out this alien machine, and manipulate it enough to get results. I was offered more testing strips and more solution that I had to decline. All in all, the experience with the company was rewarding, even though it was frustrating to have to send several meters back. I also received several phone calls from a strange number that I would not answer. One extremely crabby day I answered and was greeted by a member of the company. He was given hell for acting like a worthless telemarketer, calling a telephone with voice mail and just hanging up. I told him I didn’t have any concerns other than the fact that they are very rude when it comes to their customer service call backs. I have not been contacted by this company since.

From the first day of medical problems in January of 2008, I estimate I have spent AT LEAST $2141.04 in care on one diabetic cat. Most of this total comes from one year of treatment of diabetes, including the emergency visits. It also includes some of the weeks of prescription diet, but not after the date of September 30, 2008. I estimate to spend $40 a month on the diabetic food, as all the other cats in the house eat it. This would add another $480 at least, onto that total. I know I lost a few receipts, so one of her emergency office stays is a total estimate. This does not include gas charges to and from the emergency clinic (approximately 35 miles one way), and to and from the regular veterinary clinic bi-weekly for 9 or so months (15 miles one way).

The trials and tribulations of this life changing diagnosis are daily. Peeps did not like to be poked twice a day for several months. She would sit nicely for it, but she was quite obviously upset. Once she put her teeth on my hand, not actually biting down. I have never known her to bite out of fear, only out of rough play. There was one extremely mentally taxing day that she did not want her shot. Peeps tried everything to get away from me, and even give the insulin shot to myself. I paused, looked her in the face, and told her, “You’ll die without these shots. If that is what you want…” I never had another problem with her injections.

We formed a tight bond during this time. It was obvious to me that she knew what I was doing made her feel better. I have no idea how long she suffered from problems due to elevated blood glucose before her bladder infection. Peeps has always been an extremely private cat. She will not even use the litter box with a person or animal around. She wants nothing more than a peaceful existence and a warm human body to snuggle up to on a cold winter night. Peeps can not tell me she doesn’t feel well, it was my job to be aware enough to catch on to the symptoms. I failed this test the day she had to urinate blood to get my attention. I still feel horrible for what I made her go through.

Personally, I think the hardest part of this entire experience was the complete disregard for her life I got from other people. I told my employer that I could not work more than 11 hour shifts as my cat needed her life saving medicine. I was given a look of disbelief and hatred. Friends would obnoxiously ask me to stay, even after being told several times that my cat needs her medication to live. I would get looks of hatred that my cat was worth more to me alive than a few more hours visiting. I would say I never complained about the lifestyle change.

If I was put in a position where I had to beg, cheat, or steal to be able to get medicine for her, I would have done it without a second thought. Diabetes is not a death sentence and is completely manageable. I am selfish enough to want my cat to live to the full extent of her life, in relative comfort.

I do have regrets. I wish I would have been brave enough to take matters into my own hands and begun home testing immediately. It would have saved me one trip to the emergency vet, and a lot of hysterics. I was scared, and I felt alone. Yes, diabetes is a common occurrence in a lot of lives, but this was my cat and my life. Chronicling the entire experience would have been better in the long term. I never asked for her blood glucose levels to be written down for me, when the veterinarian was testing her. Taking notes at the office might have been more beneficial to me.

Peeps continues to do well in her day to day life. She still hates the other cats that share her house. Her favorite window and chair are coated in her fur. She is beginning to reclaim her two spots on my bed, now that the weather is turning colder and she needs to snuggle with her human furnace at night. She plays more now that she is a diet controlled diabetic than she did in the 10 plus years of her life beforehand.

Peeps is my crazy one eyed kitty who has seen death every so often, and held on. She has been with me a lot of years, and I hope to have her snuggled up against my side for many winters to come.

I love you, Peeps the kitty.

The Zoey Monster

Zoey has been one handful of a kitten. She has always been neurotic and we loved her for it. She was dumped on me, and I’m glad. The only reason I was upset about breaking up with her dumb owner was the fact I might lose her.

The kitten has developed some bad habits since she was spayed 3ish years ago. She started doing the inappropriate potty thing. We were able to make changes in the house to accommodate her for a while, ie. adding another litter box. She would be fine for a while, and then a stray cat would come into the yard and agitate her. Once the cats would move on, get killed, or reclaimed she’d calm down.

Not this last time.

The female cat had been hanging around for about two weeks. Zoey goes outside on a leash, and is checked on frequently while she is out there bird watching and throwing up the grass she grazes. I personally caught this stray less than 10 feet from her twice. This was bothering Zoey. She gets angry when her PEOPLE are in the yard doing stuff, not to mention this brave stray cat. After the cat got hit on the road, Zoey was still peeing outside of the litter box. She was made a vet appointment for the second time in a year for her potty problems.

Since other options had been tried medically, and failed, the vet decided Zoey needed anti-anxiety pills. She was prescribed Prozac. My concern was the other cat who picks on her. If she goes totally happy stupid from medication, he possibly was going to beat her up something fierce. The vet offered support on the subject, saying that if Zoey’s fear diminishes, perhaps the older, bigger, meaner cat will leave her alone. This has been the case.

Zoey has gone through some mood changes. Since she has been on the medication (half a month), she has only been heard purring twice. In her kitten years she didn’t purr much either. She also does sleep more, but she was up a lot compared to the other cats before the medication. She talks A LOT more. She will talk if you look at her, approach her, pick her up, or pet her. Zoey has also stopped peeing outside of the litter box. Luckily, she does still enjoy her favorite past-times. Supervising the rodents while they are running out in their exercise balls is still at the top of the list. She still expects to go outside every morning. And, she’s still a little pain in the ass when she wants to play.

I do love that kitten.

Too many seashells by the seashore

I’ve been collecting a massive amount of sea shells from craft stores. If I spent 99 cents on a pack of 15 shells, and two of them are good, I’ve made a killing. When I spend $6 on a bag of shells where I can see 4-5 good shells, I’ve made a killing. When I get the bag home and find out there are 10-12 usable shells, but maybe not for my guys, I’ve done extremely well.

This is the problem.

For x shells I get that are good I get x^2+5 shells that I cannot use, either they are the wrong type, wrong size, broken, or clam shells. Personally, I feel bad about having all these junk shells and only a couple, comparatively, that the crabs can actually use.

That is when I decided to break out the saltwater boiling pan, all the unusables, a piece of plexi glass, and some aquarium sealant. The idea I had in my head was gorgeous, and unlikely. I tried to keep the design symmetrical, but mother nature does not make two sea shells the exact same. I began gluing, trading ideas, and scrapping others. After about a week of noxious fumes, frustration, and fingers glued together this is the end result:

I think it is very crude. I planned on having a line of clam shells glued to the 2nd row of shells from the top, but I couldn’t get them to jut out anymore without my structure being unstable. Clipping some of the excess glue off is a priority in the future when I figure out what I’m going to do with it. At the time of the construction, more glue was better (not to mention I was getting quite high, even though I did this in a well ventilated area).

A lot of unusable sea shells are left, even after this venture. I was able to pawn a few off on my dad, but that exchange was only a drop in a very, very, very large bucket. My personality hates waste. If I never use the rest of the sea shells, they will be forever in a box, tucked away somewhere. I’ve looked for artsy ideas on the interweb, but it seems that I would have to make a shell flavored jewelry box, or candle holders. I want these shells to go where they belong, in the crabitat with the hermits.

Deep clean v1.0

I did my first ever deep clean yesterday. The crabs were both frustrated and angry about it.  I pulled out all their items and substrate. I wanted to redo the inside of the tat as it seemed those crabs weren’t too keen on my human interpretation of what their home should look like. All of the substrate went outside and got sifted with a noodle strainer, then rinsed with the hose, and then left in the sun to bake. The baking area was on the other side of my car, and every time I walked past it, the thought of baking substrate in my car looked like a better and better idea. Maybe next time. As the coco fiber was drying, I sifted through it and picked out old food, bits of uneaten exo skeleton, and itty bitty poos! Even the local ants helped me out and dragged the pieces of food they could find back to the colony. I wouldn’t have been able to have so much precision with cleaning out the substrate if I would have simply baked it in the oven.

While re-doing the cage after the substrate cleaning phaze had been completed, I decided to finally throw the hunk of cholla wood in there that I bought months ago. I also gave Brave back his candle holder hidey, and threw in the terra cotta pot for fun. The sea shell food dish got pitched for a repti dish that is green in color and bigger. The food sometimes spilled out of the shell and hopefully this will give me more control over larger portion sizes.

Brave and Spidey were upstairs immediately checking out their new home. Flower decided to de-stress a little bit underground, but I saw him up in this terra cotta potter in the wee hours of the morning. I am semi-unhappy with the design. I want to add another area up high for them to climb on, but construction is difficult in the limited area. I can’t wait until the lid for the 45T is finished and I can create, destroy, and create again with so much space!

Tradgey strikes x 2

I found my other two baby E’s today dead. I’m thinking they were molting again and they both went bad.

Upset at Petco

A complaint I filed online to Petco about the reptile conditions:

I visited the White Bear Lake store last night and was horrified by the condition of the reptiles section. There were dead and dying hermit crabs, inadequate amounts of water and food, one exhibit did not even have any dishes. Closing time was 45 minutes away when I left, and I could not find an associate in the store. I browsed the care sheet display and found that most of the sheets out did not represent the reptiles on display. One exhibit had two hygrometers that were at entirely different percentages, which leads me to believe none of the equipment in all cages were correct.

I purchased hermit crabs from this location 7 months ago. I am dismayed that if I didn’t purchase them, they would have been killed by inadequate care and left dead in the exhibit for who knows how long. I have reviewed the Petco hermit crab caresheet. I did not see adequate care displayed from this simple and short caresheet on site.

I have found this location to be generally adequate in the care of their live animals. I have been impressed about the cleanliness of these same cages only weeks ago. The Stillwater location has also impressed me.

I urge management to take action against the blatant disregard for their reptile section recently. I was so upset by the conditions in the section that I forgot to purchase the items I traveled 30 minutes for. I am taking my business elsewhere for now, but I would like to continue to be a customer, if changes are made.

Thunderstorms and the Crabs

Last night we received a nice storm that was actually a tornado warning to the south west. It didn’t get too violent here, but the lightning was awesome even though it was above the clouds. The storm was moving at approximately 25 mph, so it really didn’t last long like the storms of my childhood. I noticed my crabs hadn’t moved much when it became their morning time. They usually wake up and move around within the same 30-45 minutes every night. I could see Brave through the side of the tank, and he was awake. He had created a nice cave and was peeking half out of his shell with his antenna waving crazily. It was shortly after my observation of him that I went outside with the camera to hopefully get some good shots of the weather. I stayed outside for a good 30 minutes before the torrential downpour hit and I was forced inside. The crabs still hadn’t made a surface appearance. Not more than five minutes after the rain had ceased and it was apparent that the storm had come to an end, I heard the clinking of shells on glass and looked for my crabs. Both Brave and Flower were heading for the surface at the exact same time and rate. It was well past their normal wake up time. Did my hermit crabs realize a storm was coming and keep hunkered down for safety? Did the low pressure of the oncoming storm remind them of hurricanes in their native homes? Could they be drawing on instinct even though they were in no danger of getting spritzed on or dragged about by strong winds? Hopefully I can follow up on these observations with some evidence that they were actually hiding from the storm and not just being lazy-late risers.