It's Friday (almost), so let's talk about the resident fauna, shall we?
Dame Maggie is growing like the horse I fear she may yet become. She's 15 pounds, going on 50. But she's learning to be a good girl, at least. She knows "come" and "sit" like a champ, and we're working on the mouthing and the jumping and the potty training. (Said as I shove her off my laptop keyboard and make her sit for a treat instead.)
Her potty training is going less quickly than it could, but I think that's more our fault than hers. It's hard to be consistent, but--with the help of timers and tethers--I'm convinced that we'll get there sometime before Little Miss could actually, hypothetically ride her like a pony.
Wild Bill Gecko is also thriving, although we had to rework his terrarium earlier this week because we got it too wet. (We were a bit over enthusiastic about keeping the humidity up and managed to create a bog where it was supposed to be rainforest.)
He was so angry as we were cleaning out his space. (What does an angry gecko look like, you ask? Well, you know it when you see it.) Even when we put him back in his nice clean tank, he sat under his log and glared for a several hours.
If someone cleaned my house that thoroughly, I'd be grateful, but apparently that's not the gecko way.
Just in case you were worried about Bill's mental health, though, don't be. I already have plans to make it all up to him this weekend with a fresh batch of nasty crickets.