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Date: 2010-09-28 03:11 pm (UTC)
It's so wonderful to see rescued animals come back to life and health. (She says, looking at the Siamese on her back with her legs in my lap, who three months ago was an almost-comatose bundle of discolored fur who bit anyone who tried to touch her.)

I laugh, because our first Siamese did the same thing with her collar at about the same time into her tenure with us. We found it when we were moving out, carefully inserted behind a bookcase.

Angus looks very happy. Sometimes I think rescue cats are thinking something like, "I have to have died, so this must be heaven. And therefore everything exists for my pleasure and the bald monkeys must be my servants."

My two certainly seem to think so, anyway.

My turtles have arrived from Seattle after flying to DC with what seems to be a similar attitude. They have always been shy, in a map turtle-standard sort of way, and now they're bundles of turtle love--they greet us, beg to be hand-fed, follow us around, and ask to be tickled and scratched. The friend who was babysitting them says, "Huh? They didn't do that with me." My theory is that they so hated being shipped here that they either figure they're dead and this is heaven, or they think nothing worse could ever happen to them and everything's uphill from there. (They've lived with me since they were the size of quarters, so their experience of the world is not exactly vast.)
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