Welcome to My Home Zoo: Fur, Claws, Scales, and Absolute Chaos (With Occasional Heroics)

I don’t live in a house. I live in a zoo. And not the kind with tidy exhibits and tranquil animal enclosures. No, this is more of a chaotic, slightly smelly, fur-coated, love-filled wildlife preserve where I’m the unpaid staff, the snack dispenser, the janitor, and occasionally the emotional support human.

Two dogs, two cats, a bearded dragon, some half-willing children, and a Roomba that deserves a medal. That’s the crew. And while I didn’t set out to become a zookeeper, I wouldn't trade this beautiful disaster for anything. Except maybe a couch Kona hasn't broken because she got the zoomies or maybe window screens without claw marks.

Let’s meet the residents—in the order they arrived and took over.

Dixie – Age 13, Deaf, Dangerous, and Absolutely Divine

Dixie isn’t just a cat. She’s the cat. The original. The alpha. The one who once saved Benny’s life by going full gangster on a Rottweiler who dared to attack our Beagle baby. She didn’t just defend him—she owned that dog. Sent it running. And Benny’s been following her at a respectful distance ever since.

Now she’s older, deaf, but no less fierce. Her hearing may be gone, but her eyes miss nothing. She commands the house from her perch, gives zero fluff about your opinion, and tolerates the other animals only because she’s too dignified to claw them daily.

She is power in a tiny, sometimes grumpy, black-furred body. Our old lady. Our legend.

Rupert – Age 11, 18 Pounds of Sass, Protector of Children and Destroyer of Arms

Rupert came next. And he didn’t just become the kid’s cat—he became a legend.

As a kitten, he adopted Ava as if she were his. He sleeps in Ava and Adalynn's beds. He follows them like a cranky bodyguard. And when Ava was just a baby, Rupert saved her life. She got sick in her crib and started to aspirate. I never would have heard or known what was going on. But Rupert did. He bugged me, pacing, pawing, yowling until I finally woke up—and then led me straight to her room.

He’s not just a cat. He’s a guardian.

That said, he also has a flair for the dramatic. If you pet him and he didn’t ask, prepare to lose some skin. He’ll accept love only on his terms—and mostly from the kids. The rest of us are tolerated, as long as we stay useful and don't touch his tail.

Rupert now plays the role of house protector in Dixie’s stead. He polices dog behavior, yells at bugs on windows, and maintains a perimeter like a judgmental, 18-pound bouncer.

Benny – Age 9, Miracle Dog, Howler of Sorrows, My Soulmate with Paws

Then came Benny. My soul dog. My therapist in a fur coat. The Beagle who howls at every emotion and sleeps like it’s his religion.

He’s been through more than most humans. He was dog-napped as a puppy. Later in life, he broke his neck and was hit by a truck—both in the same year. Yet he lived. He’s my miracle dog, my couch snuggler, and my emotional support animal who steals snacks the moment I blink.

He’s been on a diet for what feels like three presidential terms, and he still somehow gains weight by breathing near a sandwich. But he always knows when I need him—whether it’s a nudge during a hard moment or snuggling beside me when I just can’t move anymore.

He may not have been our first pet, but he’s my first responder for emotional breakdowns. And I adore him.

Kona – Age 6, Gopher Assassin and Balloon-Triggered Disaster Queen

Next came Kona, our boxer-pit rescue with the body of an athlete and the nervous system of a Victorian woman. She's fought off raccoons, gophers, feral cats and one very unfortunate skunk. She’s survived her own traumas and taken years to settle into family life. But now? She’s goofy, loyal, wildly protective—and still absolutely terrified of thunder, balloons, pheasants, and children in superhero masks.

She has, in fact, only ever pooped out of fear when a pheasant burst out of the grass like a winged jump scare. Instead of hiding though, she cowers by us, shaking and pressing her face into our legs like we can protect her from the feathered horror.

But take her off-grid camping with Jarred in the Black Hills, and she transforms into her final form: fearless, wild, joyful. Out there, she’s not afraid of anything. It’s where she shines, and we love her all the more for it.

Lady Bugs – Age 2, Bat-Winged Sock Snuggler and Resident Weirdo

Last but never least: Lady Bugs. Or “Bugs,” as we affectionately call her. She's a bearded dragon. A creature with no fur, no drool, and no desire to pee on my rug. Honestly? A dream come true.

Lady Bugs doesn’t have a strong personality—typical of most female beardies—but she’s the weird kind of calm we didn’t know we needed. She watches TV. She sunbathes in weird poses. She goes for walks with Ava wearing a leash that has bat wings.

And she’s obsessed with dirty socks. Not clean ones. Dirty ones. She doesn’t drag them into her tank, but she will curl up with them like they’re warm, smelly security blankets. The other animals don’t really know what to do with her. She moves oddly, she makes no noise, and has a face like an angry pancake. So she gets plenty of space—which she absolutely enjoys.

Daily Life at the Zoo

Every morning is a mixture of barking, thudding, tail slaps, litter scooping, food bowl negotiations, and the occasional panicked realization that Bugs is staring at someone through the glass like a tiny, scaly therapist.

The kids technically have chores. But you try convincing a child to clean up after a cat when said cat is actively glaring at them like a vengeful ghost. It’s an uphill battle, usually ending with me or Jarred doing it while muttering about "teaching moments" and rechecking the calendar for the next school break.

And in the middle of it all, my best friend, the Roomba, dutifully roams the battlefield, picking up fur, snacks, and the occasional LOL doll-hair landmine. She never complains. She deserves a vacation. But just like me, her vacation will never come.

Things I’ve Googled Recently:

• “Can pets unionize?”

• “Can cats understand gratitude?”

• “Is it normal for a lizard to fall asleep on a dirty sock?”

• “How long can a Beagle stay mad if you move his treat stash?”

• “Is it legal to put my kids on a chore contract?”

• “Why is my cat chasing ghosts?”

• “Can dogs be afraid of birthday balloons?”

Final Thoughts from the Slightly Hairy, Slightly Tired Zookeeper

This life? It’s loud. It’s wild. It smells weird in ways I don’t always understand. But it’s mine. It may be slightly smelly, and entirely covered in fur… and I love it. These animals have clawed and snuggled their way into our hearts. They’re quirky, stubborn, and weirdly human at times. And despite the chaos, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, okay—I’d maybe like fewer vet bills.

What I've Learned

Dixie has shown me what fierce loyalty looks like and reminds me to never back down.

Rupert reminds me that sass is a survival skill and to never give up when someone is relying on you.

Benny reminds me to rest when I need it and that miracles may not always look like what you expect.

Kona proves that healing takes time and can look messy but it can still be beautiful.

Bugs reminds me that sometimes the weirdest ones are the most peaceful and it's important to appreciate the quiet and even the strange moments of life.

And the Roomba reminds me that heroes don’t always wear capes—sometimes they wear dust bunnies.

And I? I am the tired, overly-caffeinated, endlessly blessed zookeeper of this circus. Covered in fur, late for everything, and somehow always out of pet food.

So Tell Me: Have your own zoo? A cat with an attitude? A dog afraid of toast? A lizard who wears accessories? Tell me everything and let’s compare notes—because this kind of life needs a support group.