My sister owned a couple of Sugar Gliders a few years ago. They're cute little flying squirrel like marsupials.

As far as the Octopus they are rather cool animals, especially since they can see the future.  ;D

I'm good with having a dog.

 

I'd totally have a an octopus.  That sounds like a cool pet for sure.


Also, eating Mexican seafood stew which is really good, octopus is a key ingredient, can't blame Doug for wanting to "gnosh" at it.  :hide

 

Panda bear. I'd name it "Oreo", and everytime I'm sad it would give me a great big, warm, furry panda bear hug.

 

Panda bear. I'd name it "Oreo", and everytime I'm sad it would give me a great big, warm, furry panda bear hug.

:scrutiny Good luck with that.  :rotfl

 

You know, I always wanted a badass shark.  Tiger or bull, preferably bull shark.  Just because it can swim in fresh water too.

 

Panda bear. I'd name it "Oreo", and everytime I'm sad it would give me a great big, warm, furry panda bear hug.

Ice cold Fued torn by Oreo's talons...  :whistle

You know, I always wanted a badass shark.  Tiger or bull, preferably bull shark.  Just because it can swim in fresh water too.

And if he tries to kill you, and IF he fails, you can always mine him for testosterone.  They have 16 times the testosterone, pound for pound, of a human.

 

You know, I always wanted a badass shark.   Tiger or bull, preferably bull shark.  Just because it can swim in fresh water too.

It better have a frickin' laser on it's head.

I just want a ferret.

 

I knew people with rats in high school.  It was a fad in the 80's I guess.

My mother kept a variety of exotic birds for years.  She as well had geese.  I hate geese.

There's a pair of ducks the frequent my pool.  No idea where they're from.



In my experience, the more exotic the animal, the more of a PITA it is.  For my part, I'll stick to dogs.


-T.

 

I'd like a tiger.

They act exactly like a domestic kitty (save for the purring) - so sweet! ;D

However - Playing "Catch the hand" is fun with a tabby, but when the cat weighs half again as much as I do, it makes things... messy...  anic

 

For my part, I'll stick to dogs.

QFT.  Although I have wanderlust for exotic dogs.  I'd love a Newfoundland and a Great Pyrenese.  Giant Black and White Canine Goodness! 

Although when its time to adopt I usually end up with one thats furry...

 

My 4-year-old son has a pet garden snail named Gary.

Interesting sidenote: Snails are hermaphrodites. Gary apparently got a little bored or lonely and now his terrarium is swarming with little Garys.

 

However - Playing "Catch the hand" is fun with a tabby, but when the cat weighs half again as much as I do, it makes things... messy...  anic

Where'd you get such a tiny tiger?  

She as well had geese.  I hate geese.

I've worked in Brookfield Zoo, which has a goose population equal to the population of drunk teenagers in Mexico on Spring Break.  

If geese had opposable thumbs and trigger fingers, humanity would either be extinct, or pressed into service providing them with French Fries.

In my experience, the more exotic the animal, the more of a PITA it is.  For my part, I'll stick to dogs.
-T.

Not so much exotic.  I ain't about to hunt down the one genus of eucalyptus digestible by my favorite koala.

My 4-year-old son has a pet garden snail named Gary.

If he has a dim best friend named Patrick, it's time to start worrying, Jesse.

Interesting sidenote: Snails are hermaphrodites. Gary apparently got a little bored or lonely and now his terrarium is swarming with little Garys.

And this is why I envy the animal kingdom, occasionally on similar moments of boredom.

:whistle

 

  I hate geese.

I'm with you there. When I was five, Grandma had a goose. Fricken thing was bigger than me! That d--n goose hated me, and I, him. One day, Ford (the goose) cornered me out by Grandma's garden. He came at me, honkin' and hissin' and flappin' . I picked up the closest weapon, a hoe. I just wanted to hit him a little, so he would leave me alone. I wound up and swung that hoe like a Louisville Slugger. Ford's neck kind of wrapped around the hoe handle, and he lay there, twitching and quivering. I remember going in to tell Grandma, head hung low, lip quivering, on the verge of tears, that I had killed her goose. Grandma was mad. Dad was mad. Grandpa grabbed me by the arm "I'll take care of this." and he took me out to his truck and we went for a drive. He didn't say a word. We pulled up to this little tavern. "Come on." We went inside. We sat at the bar. He ordered a Lucky for himself and a root beer for me. "Thanks for killing the goose. I hated that mean sumbitch."

 

If he has a dim best friend named Patrick, it's time to start worrying, Jesse.

It's taken care of. We're moving out of our pineapple under the sea next week.

 

dubber308;
I can relate. A group of us used to shoot out back at a friends farm. He had several geese but one was the biggest nastest of them all. Once I was on the line, ready for the whistle when that sob snuck up, reached his head between my legs and bit me...well you know where. I spun, grabbed a handful of S&W handle, pulled, and observed that damn goose standing in front of the rest of the group, the only place I wouldn't shoot. Worse, I swear the damn critter laughed at me. Then the bite took hold and I was no longer capable of shooting, even if I had a shot. I was not sorry to see that animal go to the big PITA in the sky.

 

I'm with you there. When I was five, Grandma had a goose. Fricken thing was bigger than me! That d--n goose hated me, and I, him. One day, Ford (the goose) cornered me out by Grandma's garden. He came at me, honkin' and hissin' and flappin' . I picked up the closest weapon, a hoe. I just wanted to hit him a little, so he would leave me alone. I wound up and swung that hoe like a Louisville Slugger. Ford's neck kind of wrapped around the hoe handle, and he lay there, twitching and quivering. I remember going in to tell Grandma, head hung low, lip quivering, on the verge of tears, that I had killed her goose. Grandma was mad. Dad was mad. Grandpa grabbed me by the arm "I'll take care of this." and he took me out to his truck and we went for a drive. He didn't say a word. We pulled up to this little tavern. "Come on." We went inside. We sat at the bar. He ordered a Lucky for himself and a root beer for me. "Thanks for killing the goose. I hated that mean sumb____."

We had chickens and the occasional rooster when I was a kid.  I can sympathize with the seconds of adrenaline as the damn things would flap/charge/fly with hackles up. 

 

It's taken care of. We're moving out of our pineapple under the sea next week.

:rotfl

Well played!

I'm with you there. When I was five, Grandma had a goose. Fricken thing was bigger than me! That d--n goose hated me, and I, him. One day, Ford (the goose) cornered me out by Grandma's garden. He came at me, honkin' and hissin' and flappin' . I picked up the closest weapon, a hoe. I just wanted to hit him a little, so he would leave me alone. I wound up and swung that hoe like a Louisville Slugger. Ford's neck kind of wrapped around the hoe handle, and he lay there, twitching and quivering. I remember going in to tell Grandma, head hung low, lip quivering, on the verge of tears, that I had killed her goose. Grandma was mad. Dad was mad. Grandpa grabbed me by the arm "I'll take care of this." and he took me out to his truck and we went for a drive. He didn't say a word. We pulled up to this little tavern. "Come on." We went inside. We sat at the bar. He ordered a Lucky for himself and a root beer for me. "Thanks for killing the goose. I hated that mean sumb____."

Great story!

 

I ain't about to hunt down the one genus of eucalyptus digestible by my favorite koala.

I'm told that Koalas are the crackheads of the animal kingdom.


I'd love to have a gator, and when I was younger I wanted an iguana (after seeing a guy in town with a big lizard on a leash, he was letting it climb up a tree trunk. No shit)

 

I would like to have a Liger.  A lion/tiger mix.  Bred for its magical properties.

 

I would like to have a Liger.  A lion/tiger mix.  Bred for its magical properties.

Aaaw, those things are cuddly! And huge.

Unlike Tigons, which are small, mean b*****ds.

Ligers make great pets... as long as you don't screw up at feeding time.

We had chickens and the occasional rooster when I was a kid.  I can sympathize with the seconds of adrenaline as the damn things would flap/charge/fly with hackles up.  

We had chickens for a few years. We had a Light Sussex rooster by the name of Oscar.

Huuuge damn bird. Almost 4 feet, beak to tail tip.

Complete, total coward. Just walk into the garden where we kept them, and he would sidle out of sight behind a tree, or a bush, or the nearest handy bantam.

Then he died, and enter Oscar II, stage right. Carbon copy, 1/3rd of the size.

Most evil beast I have ever met (Including geese!). We literally had to carry clubs to defend ourselves - though he stayed away from my Dad after he drew blood, and my Dad played footchicken for an hour and a half.

We started off trying to fend him off with badminton raquets, as we didn't want to hurt him. A three foot chunk of Ash turned out to be far more effective - and one time I ended up having to drop an 8 foot pine log I was carrying on him.

Eventually the stupid bird died from brain damage. :facepalm

 

I just want a ferret.

There was a story in the paper recently about a ferret that ate all the fingers off of a sleeping baby up around KC.  I think I'll pass on those.

I wouldn't mind having one of those miniature horses.  They aren't any bigger than a large dog and can be house trained.  However, they are quite expensive.

 

The strangest pet I've owned is a tarantula I kept at work. It was always funny finding out which of my coworkers are scared of spiders. A friend of mine is going to get a miniature pot belly pig. Sugar gliders look pretty cool. And I wouldn't mind owning a hedgehog. If I run of out of bullets I can always throw it at a home invader  ;D

 

Back to unconventional pets, my brother raises up baby ***** that he finds at work. He trims and removes problem trees and occasionally finds them when he destroys their homes. He raises them until they can make it on their own, takes them about 20 to 30 miles from people and places them along a river or creek with good habitat. He says it ensures that he will always have a good supply of ***** to hunt.
My Grandpa Chuck had a pair of Guinea fowls that followed him almost every where he went. The rooster was Jimmy Carter, the hen was Dixie Lee Ray. I asked him one time "Why'd you name them after the president and the governor?" He looked at me "Well Dubber, those two guineas are a lot like politicians. They squawk constantly and never say a God damned thing."
My mom had a pair of pot-bellied pigs. Well, until they got too big for the litter box and rooted a hole in the brand new carpet. They tasted pretty good.
I had a retarded calf as a pet. His name was Seymour. The cow had kicked him in the head when he was born and scrambled his melon. I had to bottle feed him, groom him, take him for walks. When he got a little older, I had to keep him on a run so he wouldn't get lost, on 20 acres. We normally butchered at a year and a half to two years, but Seymour never grew the way he should have. After three and a half years, my dad said it was time, he wasn't going to get any bigger and we were going to have to butcher him. I knew it was coming. That was the only time I ever cried when we butchered, But he tasted pretty good.

 

My dad's a bit of an animal charmer.  He used to get birds to eat from his hands.  As far as pets though he had a pet ringtailed cat for several years.  and when he was in China in the AVG he had a pet big cat.  The locals called it a tiger so he always did too but in pics it looks like a leopard.  I'll see about pics later.

 

I knew this guy (he was like an uncle to me for a long time, havent seen him in while..)

Anyway, he lived in Rosarito beach which is near Tijuana on his family's property.  Anyway, for a while, he had a potbellied pig until a car ran it over.    I never saw the pig.  Also, HE HAD A PET MONKEY INSIDE A CAGE.  I did not like monkeys at the time, but now I realize how awesome it was.  I remember that the monkey could bitch slap you through its cage and it also liked eating chips we fed it.  IIRC, but it might or might not like beer.  I dont know is she's (the monkey) is still alive.  But there are pictures of me standing next to the monkey somewhere.  Last time I saw him or the monkey was probably prior to 2005.  Like I said, long time.