The Petuitary Gland

It started with the cat in the blanket-fort story. I just slotted cats in the pro column of not-getting-out-of-bed on a whim. And then, somehow, it was in other illustrations in that story.

cats

And then I was thinking about cats and had more ideas about cats.

more-cats

And then all my ideas were about cats.

all-the-cats

I don’t have a cat.

I don’t have any pets right now.

What I do have is a petuitary gland.

The petuitary gland is an organ located below the better-known dessert stomach.

petuitary-gland

Its job is to release hormones when a person sees cute domesticated (or not domesticated—otters, AMIRIGHT?) animals and to manipulate them into a frenzy of pet-neediness. The petuitary gland overwhelms our common sense and makes us forget the cost of vet bills and the hassle of training a creature of another species to please not poo everywhere.

poop-everywhere

The petuitary gland is an evolutionary feature that ensures the continuing relationship between humans and domesticated animals, a relationship which is in everyone’s best interest.

Except, you know, all the small, vulnerable native creatures in your area that taste better than the fanciest tin of Fancy Feast.

manipulation

But who cares about small, vulnerable native creatures?

It’s not like they, say, ride robot vacuums for our entertainment. There aren’t any adorable Halloween costumes for blue-tongue lizards. I’ve never seen a bandicoot humorously stuck in venetian blinds.

My petuitary gland is running rampant.

I’ve always liked animals. My family had a neurotic Jack Russell and an incontinent demon-cat when I was little, and I loved them both. I always thought I would have pets of my own, one day. Maybe in five or ten years, I told myself. Once I’d done some travelling and practiced keeping things alive on cactuses.

But my petuitary gland’s powers are growing. It has not spent my pet-free years idle. It has been laying plans and building its strength. Now it will not be ignored.

Infecting my creative output with cats was only the beginning. The urge to obtain a pet is becoming overwhelming.

cat-prescription

It’s not even limited to reasonable pets. There is a dangerous sign that we drive past every time we visit my partner’s hometown. It works in unholy concert with our petuitary glands to lure us down the path of bad decisions.

its-a-sign

It’s very important that we don’t give in.

alpacas

We don’t have a rental contract that allows pets. We decided years ago that we would not get pets while renting because most places don’t allow pets and having them would make renting more difficult.

It was a sensible decision.

sensible

Very, very sensible.

sensible2

SENSIBLE.sensible3

So I’ll be moving soon.

Look forward to moving related comics and stories.

And probably a cat.

(Which will be an indoor cat and not allowed to eat small, vulnerable native creatures. Because responsible pet ownership.)

9 thoughts on “The Petuitary Gland

  1. Think of all the comic possibilities if you got an alpaca too!

    I understand these petuitary gland problems, but I think mine is probably a bit more docile. The thought of cleaning up poop usually ends the debate

  2. We’re having this same issue with renting. I just can’t truly consider anywhere “home” without a big cuddly dog, but nobody rents to big cuddly dog owners so the dream is on hold. I swear not having a salivating hair machine to tear up the furniture is actually eating away at my soul.

    Stupid petuitary gland.

  3. Your work just keeps getting better and better! This one is really terrific. One problem with cats is that they shed hair all over the house and it is impossible to remove it from anything acrylic. All my knitting and crocheting now includes about 20 % of cat hair as well as the wool and polyester. Another problem is when you have children who can’t live without pet cats, then move out of home and leave you to pay to feed them and take them to the vet in their dotage.

    On Tue, Nov 29, 2016 at 5:19 PM, Silence Killed The Dinosaurs wrote:

    > Lucy Grove-Jones posted: “It started with the cat in the blanket-fort > story. I just slotted cats in the pro column of not-getting-out-of-bed on a > whim. And then, somehow, it was in other illustrations in that story. And > then I was thinking about cats and had more ideas abou” >

  4. uv (a) (cckk!) coarse yerrawn-2-sumtheeng.

    yoove slipt into yet another uv the soar tuvv ad jay-sent dye-mentions, to the/an intermix of remotely-but-still-vaguely-possible and the staunch unyielding WREEPUBLIKKIN YOONIVERSE (which, again uv coarse, hazzittz own rules and mandates and edicts ‘n sutsch) — there internal organs (which, ’cause it’s not necessarily in what we call “the physical dimensions” could be external) are as yoove stumbulld awn-2. and we both know there are probably manyMany more, ’cause there’s an infinity there, ya’ know?

    uh, if ever you drop by for a vizzit, we’re “down to” just 4 cats and 3 dawgz and a tank of fish and NO TORTOISE but I think all that could change, except for the tortoise, unless we move further into the desert. — and when you vizzit, you’ll see all (or most, any-weigh) your observations and theories HAVE COME TO LIFE and are being scientifically proven frequently!

    I’m usually not this excited to be typerrating erratically yet in a vague and allegedly linear weigh attempting to be linear — but according to the spouse-unit, I haven’t eaten today, just coffee and cookies and chocolate and am craving beer/whiskey already but IT IS PAST NOON so let’s continue to eschew all the healthy dietary rules.

    we did get a FREE DONKEY once. and another time ended up with a FREE MULE ’cause Betty bought a horse which nobody knew nor suspected was pregnant, not even the horse-shoer who was there just daze before and one morning I went outside and saw not 2 (we had 2) but 3 large animals in the corral! it was april 1 (Passover that year) so Betty named him MOSES and not “Joker.” We sold Moses to my barber when he was old enough to take the slaves to the promised land. I sometimes wonder if he (Moses, and/or the barber) and if there were any people, made it to the P.L.

    and that’s all for now. i’ll try to out-do and out-expungerate and exponentiately SPONGUS-I-FY this comment later.

Leave a comment, save a dinosaur.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s