Doctor: $140,000 a year
Furry artist on Patreon: $160,000 a year
Annabell, a solid white and completely deaf pit bull that used to let mom draw on her belly
The World’s Ugliest Tom Cat, who turned out to be the cuddiest teddy bear of an animal
Cocker spaniel named “Captain”
Stupid, the Cat
Litter of baby raccoons
Three more cats
A completely bald and extremely anxious canary that sang beautifully, but only at 4 AM
Baby Squirrel that grew up in the house and then refused to move out
A Genuine Thoroughbred Racehorse who was a spectacular athelete but had a habit of running races in the wrong direction. Benny turned out to be a terrific trail horse instead.
Turtle
Snapping Turtle
A bucket full of 43 goldfish left over from the fair. Mom counted once they were all in the bathtub in the backyard with the snapping turtle.
Another cocker spaniel named “Major”, who had the tremendous talent of eating green beans silently
Red-tailed hawk he found on the highway, and sucessfully nursed back to health and released.
Dummy, Son of Stupid
Strange, the dog that lived under the porch and only came into the house at night.
An “abandoned” baby deer.
Spooky, an alleged dog.
Joey the parakeet whose tricks were 1. drinking tea out of a tiny cup 2. threatening to peck out people’s eyes 3. wearing hats
A Really Big Toad he found behind the factory, because the other auto workers were discussing using it for target practice. Mr. Grumpity was guardian of the rosebed for several years and granny’s (his mother) favorite animal he ever brought home.
Gretchen, a St. Bernard that had to be shaved from her prior owner’s neglect, and spent a week hiding from sight with such success in the house that they thought she’d run away.
Arson, Burglary and Murder, three frankly adorable little kittens. They did not change the names, much to the regret of the cop who lived three doors down.
Yet another Cocker Spaniel, named “Colonel”
Cardinal (bird)
Canada Goose (Demon)
Once in the nursing home, he had a “pet” 12-point whitetail buck that would come to his window to be fed corn and get headskritches, inexplicably named “Florence”
The marriage only ended because thier time on earth did. He never kept an animal Grandma wouldn’t allow and if anything she was worse about it. She was the one who brought home a tarantula.
“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”
The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.
Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.
“You a cop?”
The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”
A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.
Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”
A nod.
“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”
A nod.
“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”
A tiny, miserable nod.
“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’
“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”
Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.
The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.
“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”
The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.
“I can work with that,” said the witch.
If a history-based work is good and inaccurate it’s because it’s a piece of art that sacrificed some points of accuracy for the sake of storytelling and conveying themes deeper and more important than a straightforward recounting of facts. If it’s bad and inaccurate then that’s just another reason why it sucks
do you have any spiritual thoughts on blood? pomegranates, periods, prophecy-- does what comes out of me monthly and hurts me so horribly mean anything at all besides that familiar pain no one will help me with?
the priests feared it for a reason
Gaheris, Mordred and Lady of the Lake for the Arthurian asks :)
Gaheris: Do you have any regrets? What are they?
I regret letting other determine who I was.
Mordred: What is your greatest fear?
I am afraid of being alone, not in a physical sense but rather in a chronicly lonely sort of way.
Lady of the Lake: What is your most prized possession and why?
My most prized possession is my stuffed polar bear named Knut. (He's in my profile picture.) I've had him since I was about five years old and he was purchased with my own money.
having soot on your hands from tending to a fire 🤝 having dirt on your feet from walking in nature
brought to you by the makers of carrying a laundry basket on your hip
As it is Passover again, it is time for the annual debate as to whether the frog plague, which thanks to a quirk in the Hebrew, is written as a plague of frog, singular, rather than the plural, plague of frogs, was in fact, as generally imagined, a plague of many frogs, or instead a singular giant Kaiju frog. This is an ancient and venerable argument that actually goes back to the Talmud because this is what the Jewish people are. If we can't argue for fun about this sort of thing, what are we even doing.
In that spirit, I would like to submit a third possibility, which is that in fact it was one perfectly normal sized frog, who was absolutely acing Untitled Frog Game: Ancient Egypt Edition. One particularly obnoxious frog, who through sheer hard work, managed to plague all of Egypt.
My morning glory doesn’t like the wind chime