Grammy Kathy Has a Zoo, EE-I-EE-I-OH

My estimable granddaughter, Peyton Avery Gabriel Nesler, declared our house a zoo, and she is right. Here are the occupants.
Bodhi the Serious Pug is mine. I paid for him. However, like all the pets in the house, he belongs to Terry. Big Al is Ben's. Terry paid for him and he has hysterics whenever she comes home because he, too, belongs to her.

Al is a legendary food thief. He has to his credit: a 7-lb. ham, an entire package of Rollos, a half a pan of brownies, a sample-sized bar of Dove soap, many unprotected dishes of cat food and the paper towels they were served on, and much more.

Chocolate is supposed to kill dogs. No one has mentioned this to Al apparently. It doesn't bother him at all. He's always very ashamed, though. Bodhi shares in the spoils but is not in the least ashamed. He has no conscience.

Girlie is the oldest cat and the best hunter. She understands that we do not like her bringing her half-dead presents into the house but she's just so dang proud she has to show them off. So now she brings them in through the cat door in the dining room, trots down the hall, and parades her kill around the living room so all can admire it, with everyone yelling and gagging and ordering her out. She does a big circle, just out of reach, so everyone can appreciate her latest catch and then takes it back outside the way she came.

Buggy is a big doofus and I mean big, half Himalayan and half sneaky orange neighbor cat. He looks like a big, fuzzy, cross-eyed walking toiletseat cover. He stayed in the house the first six months of his life with us, then was let outside in the spring. He loves the outdoors. He has a dogloo on the deck where he goes if the weather is really nasty so he can stay outside and not be reduced to an icicle. He hangs with the dogs and will line up with them for treats, sitting just like they do.

Hootie is the youngest and a little bastard. He was weak and sickly as a kitten and as a young cat. Now he's a big strapping bully who harasses the other cats until they kick his heinie and he remembers his place.

Finally, there is Chloe the cockatiel. She doesn't cotton to anyone but me. She can't talk, she isn't affectionate, and she does her level best to kill anyone who tries to make up to her. All she does is eat and poop. Not a very satisfying pet.

The only less satisfying pets we have had have gone to Guinea Pig Heaven: Ping and Pong, Peruvian pooping machines. Also deceased are several rats and a gecko named Sticky. I decreed no more rodents (they stink) and no more new cats.

This is ridiculous.