Animal Stories

I'm a 21-year-old girl, and have always had a tight bond with my elder sister, who's 25, despite our frequent disagreements. She's a bit of a perfectionist and tends to lash out when things don't align with her expectations. Recently, she reached out in the middle of the night as she started labor, requesting I care for her puppy. I agreed, and she painstakingly laid out detailed instructions, one of which was to ensure the puppy wore its safety harness while outside.

Complying with her instructions, I later took the puppy outside then back in. However, I didn’t remove his harness immediately upon returning. He dashed into the living room where my mother was engaged in a FaceTime call with my sister’s boyfriend. I finished removing the harness shortly thereafter, but it wasn’t quick enough. My sister, informed by her boyfriend of the slight delay in removing the harness, sent furious texts accusing me of neglecting her dog. Her outrage escalated to a phone call, during which she branded me as lazy and unreliable, and demanded my mother and I vacate her home. Furthermore, she decreed we would not see the newborn until we had regained her trust.

Around 2 AM, we left her place. I attempted to discuss the situation with her boyfriend at his arrival, only to be dismissed with a curt, “We’re having a kid, you don’t get an explanation.” That night, consoling a deeply distressed mother, I pondered over the potential repercussions of my sister's actions—her boyfriend missing crucial moments at the hospital due to her unfounded allegations, the impression my mom’s torment made on her in-laws, and the overall strain on family relationships.

The next morning, my sister called to apologize, attributing her overreaction to stress and hormones, and invited us to meet her baby. Although the visit proceeded without incident, she questioned my subdued demeanor. I expressed how hurtful her actions were, noting how her hostility and the subsequent eviction left a sour memory for all involved. Instead of acknowledging my feelings, she defended her actions, reiterated her offensive remarks, and asked me to leave. Our communication ceased thereafter.

I can’t help but reflect: if this familial drama unfolded on a reality TV show, would the audience be sympathetic to my predicament or view it as an overreaction? The public often relishes dramatic confrontations but also values strong familial bonds and understanding, especially during pivotal moments like childbirth. It's unclear how others might perceive our situation under the heightened scrutiny of a televised platform.

This summer marked the beginning of a new chapter for my husband and I, celebrating our first season in a new home equipped with a large, fenced backyard perfect for gatherings. We were both thrilled at the prospect of hosting our first big barbecue, inviting both sides of our family. A lot of effort and resources went into planning this event to make sure everything was perfect.

Early today, my sister Laura, 35, sent a text expressing her excitement about bringing her "babies" to see our new place and reunite with the family. However, her "babies" are her four medium to large-sized dogs, known for their rambunctious behavior. These dogs frequently jump on people, have a tendency to snatch food, and unfortunately, Laura often overlooks cleaning up after them. My concerns are not only about the mess and misbehavior but also about safety, as I rely on mobility aids and the dogs could easily cause me to fall. For these reasons, I have avoided visiting her house.

I tactfully replied to Laura, explaining that it would be best if the dogs stayed at home due to the risk they posed to my mobility. This response did not sit well with her; she accused me of being unreasonable and insensitive for not including her entire "family" in the barbecue plans. She argued that the dogs are as much her family as children are to others, criticizing my decision by comparing the potential hazard her dogs posed to that of playful children, including our own 7-year-old son.

Following our conversation, my parents intervened, trying to persuade me to allow the dogs to attend, arguing that the spacious yard would sufficiently accommodate them and that they would assist in managing the pets. With already more than 20 guests expected, I stood my ground, preferring not to complicate the event further with the addition of her untrained dogs. My family feels I am being too rigid, failing to empathize with how much Laura views her dogs as part of the family.

If this scenario unfolded on a reality show, the drama and conflict might actually boost viewer engagement. Audiences often gravitate towards familial disputes, especially those involving unconventional definitions of family like pets. There might be cutaway interviews giving each family member and me a chance to express our feelings and perspectives, potentially drawing sympathy, outrage, or a mix of reactions from the viewers. The tension would likely escalate on-screen with dramatic music and close-up reactions, culminating in either a heartfelt resolution or a cliffhanger leaving audiences eager for the next episode.

How should I handle this family disagreement about pet attendance at gatherings?

Hello everyone!

I'm not a native English speaker, so please excuse any grammatical mistakes.

My mom planned a New Year’s trip to the beach, but with us having a cat and a dog, and my parents being divorced, I chose to stay with my dad, leaving my mom to celebrate with her side of the family. However, my dad and stepmom are quite fastidious and weren’t keen on handling the pets – they believe it’s not their job to manage such tasks.

I suggested my mom could take the dog with her, while I looked after the cat. She refused, explaining that my grandfather, whose house they were visiting, wasn't fond of dogs, and she didn't want to leave my cat all alone. In the end, she arranged for the neighbors to provide food and water for the pets during her absence. Although I wasn't comfortable with this plan, I felt my hands were tied and reluctantly agreed.

Time passed, and although I wanted to visit the pets, my dad’s packed schedule made it difficult. Five days into my mom's trip, a distressing message came through from her. “Hanna is not eating well”, it read. Alarmed, I pushed to check on the pets immediately.

Arriving home, I was met with a heart-wrenching sight. Hanna, my two-year-old dog, was covered in filth, having apparently consumed trash. I hurriedly bathed her and even trimmed her fur to clean her up as best I could.

My cat, however, was in worse shape. I broke down crying when I found him injured and struggling to breathe, his body bearing scars. The vet later speculated he might have been hit by a vehicle. Now hospitalized, the thought of him suffering gutted me. This felt like neglect; the neighbor's goodwill was not enough to ensure the animals’ safety.

Upon their return, instead of taking responsibility, my mom and several aunts placed the blame squarely on my shoulders for not visiting the pets more frequently. Frustrated, I defended myself, pointing out I didn’t have access to a vehicle or any way to intervene more than I did. Thankfully, my dad supported me, yet I still felt like I let everyone down, including the pets. Despite my warnings, this disastrous scenario unfolded, and now my dad is footing the vet bills, an expense that could have been avoided had my mom listened.

Now, all communication about this incident has ceased on my mom’s end, yet I can’t help but feel resentful. Am I wrong for feeling upset with her over this?

Imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality show. The drama and tension would certainly draw viewers’ attention, with cameras focusing on the heated arguments and teary confessions. How would the audience react to seeing the neglect the pets endured and the subsequent family fallout on screen? Would they sympathize with me or label me the villain of the episode?

When my daughter, Emily, celebrated her 20th birthday, she had already been battling significant health challenges for nearly eight years. From major depressive disorder to social anxiety, and even grappling with anorexia and body dysmorphic disorder amidst two autoimmune conditions, her path had not been smooth. As her parent, I have been deeply involved in her care, and when her therapist suggested that an Emotional Support Animal (ESA) might benefit her, I agreed. Though I'm not a fan of animals personally, I saw the potential benefits for Emily's mental and emotional health.

For her 16th birthday, we welcomed a dog into our home named Juniper. It might sound dramatic, but Juniper transformed Emily’s life. She became more independent, her self-esteem flourished, and she visibly brightened. Now, four years later, she's not only juggling her college studies with impressive grades, but she also works as a part-time tutor and volunteers with the elderly—achievements that fill me with immense pride.

However, an unfortunate incident occurred recently that has thrown our peaceful life into chaos. Juniper escaped from our home and was tragically hit by a car in front of our house. After rushing her to the vet, we faced the grim reality that her recovery would require surgery costing around $2,000. Despite my comfortable salary, spending such a sum on what I considered a fading investment seemed unjustifiable, especially considering Juniper's age and potential for lifelong disability post-surgery.

In what I thought was a considered and humane decision, I opted for euthanasia. But when I informed Emily of this decision, she was devastated. She pleaded, offering her savings and promising to work more to cover the costs, but I refused. The potential impact on her mental health—and the possibility that she would have to sacrifice her volunteering, which had significantly aided her recovery—weighed heavily on me. My decision was final, even if Emily couldn't see the reasoning behind it. We went through with the euthanasia, making sure Juniper was surrounded by love till the end.

Upon our return, we found an inconsolable Emily. I tried to impart some hard-earned wisdom about the harsh realities of life, but communication broke down, and now she isn’t speaking to me. I can’t help but wonder if I should have involved her more in the decision or at least allowed her to say goodbye. While I remain conflicted, I also feel that Juniper had fulfilled her role in improving Emily’s quality of life, considering the relatively short time they spent together.

Imagine if this situation were unfolding on a reality TV show. The cameras would capture every tear and tense conversation, providing a raw, unfiltered look at our family's crisis. Viewers might be split, with some sympathizing with my protectiveness over Emily’s mental health and others vilifying me for my seemingly cold decision-making. The drama would certainly draw attention, but the real challenge would be maintaining our dignity and privacy in the inevitable backlash.

At 24, I met my boyfriend, who was then 23, while seeking to expand my furry family with a third dog at a local animal shelter. Our mutual affection for animals sparked our relationship. We spent months getting to know each other and after making our relationship exclusive, I was soon introduced to his family.

We currently live separately, but frequent visits keep our connection strong. Recently, we discussed taking our relationship to the next level by moving in together. While he was working, I met with his parents to talk about this significant step. They were initially supportive, but their attitudes shifted dramatically when I mentioned my pets—three dogs, two cats, and a turtle—that would be moving in with us.

Their sudden change in demeanor alarmed me, especially when they explicitly asked if my boyfriend knew about all of my pets. The conversation took a darker turn when his mother revealed why they avoided having pets: my boyfriend had a past of fatally harming animals during his teens. According to them, he displayed this disturbing behavior without any discernible reason and simply disposed of the animals afterwards. This revelation was shocking and deeply disturbing, forcing me to confront a side of him I had never seen.

Grasping the gravity of what his parents disclosed, I stalled our plans to move in together, claiming I preferred to wait until my current lease ended. Although he seems eager to interact with my pets, bringing them food and toys, I've maintained my distance, not allowing him alone with them. Whenever he visits, if a friend isn't available to watch over my animals, I find myself anxiously monitoring every interaction.

Living with this secret has been torturous. Despite his affectionate behavior towards my pets, including my cat who often cuddles in his lap, I can't shake the fear his parents instilled in me about his potential to harm them. It's confusing and heartbreaking to feel this way.

Imagine if this situation were a part of a reality show. Viewages and discussions would be heightened due to the moral dilemmas and suspense around potential risks. Viewers would likely be captivated by the unfolding of these hidden pasts and the emotional rollercoaster experienced by someone torn between love and fear for the welfare of her beloved pets.

Would you advise someone to stay in a relationship if they discovered their partner previously harmed animals?

My family was eager to have pets, so we ended up adopting a mixed breed dog from the local shelter and two kittens. While everyone enjoyed playing with the new additions, the task of actually taking care of them fell entirely on my shoulders.

Every morning at 5:30 a.m., I was the one taking the dog for walks, cleaning the litter boxes, handling all the vet visits, buying and preparing their meals, and tidying up their feeding areas. If I left any of these tasks to my partner or the kids, they would either forget or do such a sloppy job that I ended up having to redo it anyway.

The situation was similar with the house plants and the indoor herb and vegetable garden my partner decided to start. They lost interest after the initial excitement, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of neglected plants: dead leaves, spilled soil, and pest infestations. If I didn’t step in to water and care for them, no one would.

Maintaining a clean and orderly home is important to me, especially since I grew up in a household that hoarded animals, resulting in a living environment that was far from ideal. I’m determined not to let history repeat itself in my own home. Unfortunately, if I don’t keep on top of the pets’ needs, the consequences are immediate and messy—the cats will spray if their litter isn’t clean, and the dog will chew and cause havoc if not walked regularly.

Given the lack of initiative from my family, I’ve decided to move the pets outdoors for the time being. The dog now has a doghouse, and the cats are outdoor cats, until the family proves they can handle the responsibility of indoor pets. Of course, in extreme weather conditions, I’ll bring them back inside. The plants are going outdoors too.

I’M DONE.

Honestly, if my life was a series on a reality TV show, I can only imagine the chaos and drama my frustrations would stir up each episode. Viewers would probably be divided; some might sympathize with my plight while others could argue that my measures are too drastic. It would definitely spark debate.

If I were to be featured on a reality show, how do you think viewers would react to my actions?

I hope I am filling correctly the info of my story, I am new on IIWIARS :)

I'll keep some specifics ambiguous for privacy reasons. I specialize in breeding reptiles and amphibians, and a major part of my business involves trading with zoos across the country.

A while back, a rare species came into my possession. A contact I had chatted with previously expressed interest in acquiring this creature for their personal collection. I wasn't ready to sell at first but told them they'd be the first to know if I changed my mind. Later, when I decided to sell, I reached out to them. However, due to an oversight, I missed their reply and wrongly assumed they had lost interest.

I waited, expecting to hear from them but received no further communication—or so I thought. Eventually, I made a deal with a well-known zoo, which required me to personally transport the animal. It was only after this that I discovered the missed message from my contact who had indeed wanted to purchase the animal.

Realizing my mistake, I apologized and offered them any other animal from my collection, even mentioning upcoming arrivals similar to the one they had missed out on. They seemed initially understanding, continuing our conversations about different species I was breeding. However, their frustration soon erupted, accusing me of betraying our agreement by giving away "their" animal. Despite my attempts to apologize, they demanded I never contact them again and subsequently blocked me on all my social media accounts.

I'm left questioning if my error makes me more than just careless. Was I wrong to prioritize the zoo over the individual, especially after my promise?

Imagine if this incident were part of a reality show, the dramatic moment of discovering the missed message could have been a pivotal, tension-filled scene. The cameras would capture the real-time shock and regret on my face, followed by the heated confrontation with my once-future buyer. Viewers might be intrigued by the behind-the-scenes dynamics of animal trading, but also the intense emotional fallout from a simple miscommunication.

I’m not sure how to explain this, but my older sister is the most irresponsible person I know. Just like how she fails to take care of her kids, she also neglects her pets. Thankfully, my mom has custody of her kids, but unfortunately, her pets suffer from her neglect. Over the years, it’s mostly been cats and small dogs, so I would sneak into her house to feed and clean up after them. They’re living, breathing souls and deserve to be taken care of, so I started taking them and rehoming them to people out of town, making it seem like they ran away. This time was different because she got a very expensive 60lb purebred dog who’s not fully grown. I hoped she would change, but she didn’t. Since this dog cost her money, I was scared to take him, so instead, I tried to tell her that her dog was malnourished and not well-behaved and that a dog of that size and breed should be trained. I explained that if she doesn’t rehome the dog, I will call animal control and report her, and if she keeps getting animals, I will continue to report her. She flipped out on me and called me judgmental, and that’s when she realized I made all her pets go missing. She called me psychotic and asked me to leave. My mom said I had the right mindset, but I shouldn’t interfere. I honestly thought I was helping the animals, but now I feel like I should have handled the situation differently. Did I react correctly?

Before you give the final verdict, let me give you an example of her neglect. She leaves her house for days or weeks, leaving them unattended, and doesn’t even think about coming home to feed them. She’s not consistent with buying them food. The smaller animals, she thinks it’s funny to tease them and shake them. She doesn’t potty train the dogs, so she smacks them when they go in the house. And the bigger dog is just skin and bones. I try to take him out, but he’s not trained and tries to attack other dogs and jumps on people.

Sometimes I wonder how people would react if this was on a reality show. Would they support me for rescuing the animals, or side with my sister and think I’m overstepping? It would be interesting to see the public’s reaction to this messy situation.