owner embarrassment


Yuri introduces Yuuri to his asshole cat.

Pairing: Yuuri x Yuri

Based off of this post. Also sorry the quality is pretty shitty and questionable on this one. >____>;

To say Yuri was nervous was a bit of an understatement. Today would be a pivotal step in his relationship with Yuuri, the make it or break it point if he may. While he was slightly nervous when introducing Yuuri as his boyfriend to his grandfather, Yuri knew they would stay together regardless of his opinion. The person Yuri was introducing his boyfriend to today, their opinion mattered so much more.

Or rather, Yuuri’s opinion mattered since the person in question, or rather creature in question, hated pretty much everyone. Yes, Today is the day that Yuri introduces his boyfriend to his cat, his asshole cat who hates everyone except Yuri himself (and occasionally Lilia).

If Yuuri did not like his asshole cat, he had to go.

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anonymous asked:

Is it just me or are service dogs suddenly spiking in popularity...? Especially fake ones.

Ahh…… be careful what you call a ‘fake’ service dog. While some breeds are more common than others, any breed or mix of dog could potentially be a service dog if it has been trained for a task that helps its owner manage their illness or disability. You also don’t have the right to ask these people what their disability is, or necessarily what the dog is trained to do. (International laws will vary)

A service dog should always be under control of their handler and housebroken. If they are not, they may be either not a service dog, or still in training, in which case the owner is probably embarrassed by the whole thing.

If you are interested you could see @actuallyservicedogs for more information. Here is their FAQ.

Why shouldn’t service dogs become more common? If these animals are helpful and allow people greater mobility or interaction in the world, surely that’s a good thing.

In vet clinics in Australia, I see the occasional guide dog for the blind. They have a little extra paperwork I have to fill out because the organization that trained the dogs wants to keep tabs on them to ensure they’re in good health, but that has varied from state to state. I haven’t seen many other service animals myself, yet.

Emotional Support Animals is another matter. There are a few of these around, though owners wont always explain to you that this is the case. Sometimes these owners will come into the clinic with a friend who does most of the talking, and may be reluctant to let the animal go to the treatment room for a blood draw, even though the animal was totally chill with this. They often don’t want the animal to stay overnight.

Lets just say that this really sucks when the animal in question has something terminal, especially when it’s come as a surprise. It becomes very obvious how emotionally dependent they are on the animal then.

Still Untitled -Chapter 22 | Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Yes, I still am fail at the title.


 Ezra hummed to himself a moment, as a silence spread out between them, “Probably a sensitive topic, but is your nephew trying to be a Vader wannabe with that get up he wears?”

 He nearly choked on the sip of caf he was taking.

 “I’m just saying, I fought Darth Vader, Vader was karking terrifying, I lost my first lightsaber in a fight with Vader.”  Ezra shook his head, “I want to tell that weak sculag to his face that he’s no Vader. “

 He put his face in his hands, shaking his head while laughing. The two had clashed more than once on occasion in the past. There was plenty they didn’t see eye to eye on. But moments like this reminded him how much he liked the man.

 “I miss that lightsaber,” Ezra added, wistfully. “I made to so it had a blaster built into the hilt. It was cool.”

 “You made a lightsaber blaster combo?” he started laughing again at the thought of something that ridiculous.

 “I was fifteen,” shrugging, Ezra took a sip of his caf. “And did I mention it was cool?”

I published this beast on AO3 a month ago to the day! Over 52000 words in and I think I might be serious about this.

Here’s a picture of my horse in a party hat for no reason to celebrate me breaking 50k words.

razayaweek  asked:

B, 3! This should be good.

Oh, that would have to be Sardine.

When I first met Sardine, she was already an old cat. This meant her owner had a decade of experience in taking her to the vet.

I was presented with a cat in a box, suspected of having an abscess. Her owner offered to get her out of the box for me, but requested she hold the cat.

She then proceeded to don a denim jacket, thick gardening gloves and a plastic face shield often used with power tools.

Lets just say the owner was NOT overreacting. 

Sardine was some sort of tooth and claw hurricane mortar bomb hybrid. Her owner was terribly embarrassed by this behavior but was obviously resigned to the fact that this happened at every vet visit for the last decade. I’m sure she was sweet as pie at home, because if she was like that all the time no way any sane human would live with her.

I had completely forgotten about this encounter a year later when Sardine presented again. This time the owner knew she was very sick and there was no sign of the gardening gloves. I’d noted the *aggressive* on her file but assumed it must be an overreaction, because this cat was placid and easy to handle.

I took blood, diagnosed chronic renal failure, and set her up on fluids overnight.

The next morning I realized my mistake. 

The morning nurse informed me that she was not going to attempt to tablet Sardine, and it quickly became apparent why. 

The hurricane of cat was back. She clearly felt much better on fluids and had decided she now felt well enough to kill us all.

Back came the owner, with her gardening gloves.

Embarrassed Blog Owner-san (you should just ignore a piece of trash like me)

Hey guys! Blog-owner-san here! I’m sorry if I was so out this couple of days, I didn’t know what’s happening! I was having an very very high fever. I couldn’t even look at myself or stand. I accidentally deleted a first submission from a person named @ panh299 and I felt so bad. Gosh. And the thing is, it was such a nice Levihan related topic about Shingeki no Chugakkou! ’s Levi and Hanji being canon in there! Ugh. Anyways, just dropping by and saying this so that, that person who submitted this will know what happened. (Kyaaa I’m so embarrassed!)

Originally posted by harukasenpais




someone - or something - out there is attacking people and mutants are getting blamed. things are getting out of hand, so a gang of meddling kids have decided they’re going to get to the bottom of whatever is going on, whatever the cost. monsters are real, and the mutant mystery team are going to kick their butts…when they’ve finished their algebra homework. 

RAVEN: ringleader | plan maker | abundant mystery novel owner

ERIK: shitty van owner | perpetual bait | embarrassing flirter

JANOS: map reader | conspiracy hater | pinnacle of common sense  

AZAZEL: getaway vehicle | tired of this shit | spooky viber

ANGEL: trap setter | baseball bat owner | leather jacket enthusiast


inevitably, my brain would take this route with a cat au.

aftermath of this cat day doodle.

This just in! Snake Knows Difference Between Dead Mouse and Human Hand, Owner Embarrassed for her Faux-Pas

My snake is grumpy. We don’t hang out much these days because he never quit took a liking to being touched. That’s cool though. I like him just living in my room, he likes having his food delivered on a weekly basis, the arrangement is good.

Well recently, Crowley has been acting kinda funny. He chases my hand when I try to feed him, he’s acting much more forceful and aggressive during feedings. I thought maybe he was starting to associate me with food, that mythical “cage aggression” that everyone is always griping about. I was worried that he might be getting aggressive to humans. So, needing to test my theory, I just stuck my hand in his cage and wiggled it around, thinking he would bite me and I could gauge his aggression based on that (he’s a small adolescent king snake, his bites don’t hurt unless he pinches you)

Well he races over like he’s gonna strike, sniffs me, then jerks his head over to stare at me like “the fuck is this? This isn’t a goddamn mouse. This is that stinking thing you touch me with. Remove it from my home”

Then he scurried off to find a mouse. Good to know the little guy can tell the difference between a hand and a mouse, but I’ll never cease to be amazed by his grump.

Socrates and Cupid: A Dialogue

Socrates stood atop a café in downtown Paris, overlooking many couples of young women and men, strolling arm-in-arm and holding baguettes and conversing with one another in a beautiful public square. Socrates marveled at the pleasantness of it all; everyone below Socrates seemed to be engaged in charming banter and having a splendid time. When at once, three gleaming pink arrows flew through the sky in the direction of the park. Two of the arrows hit nothing more than an empty bench, and one landed directly into the back paw of a panting Chihuahua. The dog did not appear hurt by the arrow; indeed, it seemed not to sense the arrow at all. As Socrates pondered how that could be, the dog aggressively began to hump the leg of the bench until its embarrassed owner tugged it away.

The arrows had come from the top of the same roof on which Socrates stood, and he turned to the sight of a floating baby with the wings of an angel, holding a glimmering bow and arrow, giggling profusely. “Tehe!” The baby loaded another arrow into his bow and prepared to shoot, putting little priority in his aim.

Socrates: Hello there, my good sir.

The sound of Socrates’ voice startled the baby, causing him to misfire the arrow and hit a pigeon atop the adjacent building. The pigeon looked toward the baby with lust. 

“Whoa!” The baby cried in his soft, high-pitched voice. “You see me? How can this be?”

Socrates: Forgive me for startling you, my good baby. It is apparent that you are quite used to remaining unseen by humans. But actually, I do believe I recognize you—not by your looks, for I cannot remember ever having seen you in the flesh, but by your legend. Tell me, is it indeed you, young Cupid?

Cupid: Tehehe! I am Cupid!

Socrates: Then your legend stems back to my time, and my recognition has proved accurate. Forgive me though, as I have been through quite a number of peculiar ordeals since my death in Athens, and my memory could be misguided, so please correct me if my memory should be hazy. Your true name is Eros, and you are the daughter of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, beauty, and pleasure. Your mother is the most beautiful goddess of them all, and that is why, thousands of years ago, she grew frustrated with the mortal woman named Psyche, who was so beautiful in her own right that people began comparing her to your mother. Jealous, your mother ordered you down from the heavens to shoot this mortal Psyche with one of your arrows, thus provoking her to fall madly in love with a degenerate, which would in turn lead her to fall from grace. However, upon seeing this Psyche, you too were transfixed by her beauty, and you disobeyed your mother’s orders by pricking yourself with your own arrow, causing yourself to fall madly in love with her.

Cupid: Your memory is not hazy at all! I was very naughty! Tehe!

Cupid was frantic and energetic at all times during Socrates’ speech and seemed incapable of relaxing for even the tiniest of moments, and several times as Socrates spoke the baby loaded and fired his arrows blindly into the park, striking an elderly man who sat beside a woman—who appeared to be his longtime wife—and a young bellboy who stood outside a hotel across the street. The elderly man and the bellboy locked eyes. Socrates carried on:

Socrates: And this is the part where my memory should fail me, as I have not lived long enough to possibly know these things, but through some glitch in the cosmos I seem to recollect even further details about your story, details which I have no way in knowing, as I have stated.

Cupid flew hectically back and forth around Socrates’ head.

Cupid: Tehe! What do you know?

Socrates: After the rule of the Greeks had run its due course, it was the Romans who changed your name from Eros to Cupid, and your mother’s from Aphrodite to Venus, and it was they who carried forth your legend and propelled it to exist for thousands of years more, even to the present day.

Cupid: Tehe, you talk silly. In all my time I have only heard one man talk so funny as you—wait, it’s you, Socrates! Why, how could I forget? In thousands of years there has only been one person who has felt no effect from my arrows, and that person is you! And I tried many times, tehe!

Socrates: So, it has been revealed: It was you who caused me to feel those fleeting sensations of love I had experienced on numerous occasions—quite random occasions, as I now come to ponder it. Mostly when I was engaged in deep conversation with my pupil, Plato. 

Cupid: Tehe, I’m silly too!

Socrates: You are quite silly, and your arrows very nearly cause me to act in a silly way toward my pupil—if it weren’t for my questions. Each time I felt that unexpected gust of romantic passion, I asked myself why, why it was that I was feeling what I was feeling. Soon enough, through rigorous mental examination, I recognized these feelings as illusions, and they were dispelled.

Cupid: I remember! Every time you asked yourself a question, the arrow in your back would loosen, until eventually it just slid out—how perplexing; I could never get one to stick! But I can’t say the same for Plato—tehehe!

Socrates: Do you mean to say, my dear floating baby, that Plato had withheld romantic aspirations for me this entire time? If this is what you mean to say, it would explain certain peculiar instances with him—such as the time when I had just finished a lengthy dialogue with Glaucon during which we proved that justice is both good and worthwhile, and then Plato turned to me, locked his eyes upon me, and said, “You did a fine job, Sweet Socrates,” and then firmly stroked the upper portion of my leg. I remember thinking it was somewhat strange at the time. Was this your doing, dear Cupid?

Cupid was no longer beside Socrates. Socrates turned around, and with intrigue watched Cupid fly after a small butterfly…

(To be continued…)

Follow @zeezyzach for more odd writings

i didn’t start supporting arsenal to win titles at any fucking cost man i don’t support any of my teams solely because i want to win. i support the teams i do because they represent aspects of the sport i love and respect and that’s not just trophies and glory and it’s definitely not that at any cost.

i love arsenal’s style of play, i love that we have a manager who has consistently denounced homophobia and racism in this sport, i love that we have a core of loyal players who have given us so many years and grown and developed here and made me so damn proud.

i don’t support bringing in a 29 year old racist who has had a single year playing well (HE SCORED FIVE GOALS IN THE PL LAST SEASON OH MY GOD), has no promise of continuing at that level (he’s not even standing out at international level in a very young squad) and given his position has something like 3 more years on him. not only that but his style of play goes against what i believe are the principles of this sport (the diving, the backtalk towards other players and officials), his attitude has consistently been garbage (see previous point and multiple posts detailing this), and it goes against the principles of a club that has always prided itself on cultivating talent not buying it.

you can’t buy class and even if you could, it’s not vardy, not by a long shot.