Over the years, one tends to go through a lot of pets. This is a tribute to those over the years. Those still alive, and those not forgotten.

These jokers are the weasels. Ferrets, actually, but we call 'em weasels. The big guy in the middle is Denali, but most call him "Nali" or "Pootz." He was Jeff's ferret, but my Mom and Dad got so attached to him, so he became theirs. He was a lazy one, that Pootz. He passed away not long ago, but he lived a long and happy life. We're gonna miss him. The girl on the left is Penny. She's the smallest, but was the most full of energy. She was always bouncing everywhere, climbing everything, and biting the holy bejeezus out of people. She passed away recently. Her playmate is the girl on the right. That's Gabby, aptly named because she's the most vocal of the three. She's only slightly less rambunctious as Penny, but she doesn't bite. They made an interesting pair. Gabby's fat and sassy, and Penny was skinny and long. A Laurel and Hardy sort of thing. They were rescued by us from somebody who didn't want them anymore. They have a good home now.

This is Buck, our horse. He was old when we got him, but he was a good horse-- a gentler or smarter one never existed. I never really got into riding much, but he was a good one for riding. He roamed the ranches out here or parked himself in our stable whenever he wanted. Look behind him-- there's the Antiguo Volcan Studio volcano...

This is Kirby. Normally, I hate cats. We've always had about 60 of them on the ranch, all feral and nameless. One or two of them would end up friendly. Kirby was just such one. As a male, he was always getting beaten up by the bigger males. So, he got smart and hung close to the house to avoid getting hurt. He got special food as a result (yes, we fed all 60+ cats) and sometimes came in the house. When he came inside and started getting in the way, all you had to say was: "Kirby, go to your chair." And he'd curl up on the chair and purr happily until he fell asleep. He disappeared one day. I miss that dude, I hate to admit.

This is Moki. She was the mother of most of our dogs, as well as grandmother and great grandmother. She's half chow and half ranch dog-- meaning Coyote and whatever other strain that runs around here. She was an overgrown puppy. Even in her advanced age, she still acted like a puppy: chasing the other dogs, wrestling, and generally being a crazy, furry dynamo...

This is Sniffer. She was a feral cat with a respiratory problem, but she was always friendly to me. You'd pet her and she'd purr between sneezes...

This is Ferdi. She's a hairball of a ranch dog, and the last of the Bunk Ridge Ranch line of quality dogs. She died in her sleep, but at least she's back with the rest of her pack...

This is Cody. She was mostly coyote, which made her smart. When she was a puppy, she stumbled into some bastard's coyote trap. She limped afterward, but kept up with everybody. She liked to sleep in the house on those cold nights. She had her own pillow and everything.

This is Emily. Her favorite place to sleep was on top of our camper, like in the picture. She was pretty feral and skittish, but only with other people. I wrassled with her all the time.

This is Popeye-- my cat. Most of our cats were feral, but I trained her to be friendly. She was named Popeye because for a while we thought she was a male cat. Her father had been a big ugly cat we called the Sailor. She was a little sailor-cat, hence the name. She disappeared, but left three kittens behind: Vladimir, Sputnik, and Vostok.

This is Mira and Sombra-- the new dog pack on the ranch. They're perfect ranch dogs, mostly mutts. But you can see the German Sheperd and Pit Bull in them. Mira is the agressor of the two and Sombra is much more laid back.

This is Charlie. He came to us in a roundabout way, but decided to stay. He and Mira and Sombra are best buddies, now. He's a very friendly dog and likes to try and crack my skull by leaping up at the wrong possible moment. No concussions yet... but he's working on it.