Betty's Blog

Humans are Weird - Up Again

10/6/2026

Humans are Weird - Up Again

They had almost reached the end of the training course when the trees shook with a sudden wind, releasing a swarm of leafs half-again the size of their individual wings. Shrieks and curses filled the bitterly cold air as the flight dove and rose dodging the derbies. Some of the leafs were still clinging to the twigs they had grown on. This discovery struck Wing Commander Fourth Flick at the same time that the wood did. He huffed at the impact and swung under a thick branch to dodge another bundle of wood and leaf. The medics were already snarling with rage as they reached the end of the planned training flight and Wing Commander Fourth Flick swept back over the flight to solidify the headcount. Everyone had made it, to the perches, from the old quartermaster who was patchy with age, to the fluffiest young recruit who really should have waited another season or two past the strictly legal age before enlisting in a Survey Ranger Corps assigned wing. Several younger wingmates were huddling around the quartermaster to keep him warm so Wing Commander Fourth Flick found the youngest uninjured wingmate he could and pulled him down for some soothing mutual grooming. He could already feel his muscles tensing up, and while the younger flight members were probably feeling it less they would all be sore by the morning, and those who had soon to erupt horns would have been feeling the cold all day.
His grooming partner suddenly stiffened and his fuzzy ears perked up and rotated. Wing Commander Fourth Flick directed his own ears that way and heard the approaching foot falls of a human, breaking, shattering the desiccated leafs that covered the path, along with a strange hacking sound that was almost like human words. The flight fell mostly silent as the human, no two of them, became visible through the forest. A local mother was carrying her infant. A soft wave of curious chirps flowed from the flight members on the edges of the group and washed back to their sensory horns, revealing the muted outlines of the two humans in their thick winter clothing.
The smaller human began to make the hacking sound again. It’s body giving painful looking spasms with the noise. A chirr of concern rippled through the flight and after a quick, wordless consultation the youngest medic, the ‘cutest’ according to humans who seemed to appreciate fluffiness, flew down to scout the situation.
The adult human, presumably the child’s mother, was cradling the child in one arm and in between fits of coughing the child slumped rather than clung against her side. The young medic circled her at a respectful distance as she approached the main comm kiosk for the colony and activated the display. The three-dimensional crystal readout clicked and popped in the cold as it displayed the expected arrival times of the next ship. The adult human sighed and let her head drop sideways to rest on her child.
“Soon, baby soon,” she crooned to the child, who responded with a tired sounding babble.
Detecting that the human was finished with whatever her task was the medic deliberately swept down to hover in her line of sight. The human looked at him and gave a tired smile.
“Hello?” she said.
“Greetings,” the medic said. “Would you have any objection to letting my wing hover in your thermal aura?”
The human twisted her face into a rueful smile.
“Well, baby,” she said lifting the child up a few wing-breadths in demonstration, “so the usual warnings about grip strength, and I really don’t object, but-”
The wing gave a grateful chirp and fluttered down before she finished the sentence, at which the Wing Commander saw her face blanch with unease. The took up a position on her lee side, nearly instantly finding that safe arc of distance from grabby human baby hands and the full dissolution of the adult human’s heat aura. In that same instant the child began to make that same hacking sound, a ‘cough’, and before the adult human could react the child sneezed, spraying the wing in not only the usual sinus droplets but no small amount of something that smelled of, and clearly was acid droplets.
“But the baby and I both have bad acid-reflux,” the adult human said with a sigh. “Sorry about that.
The flight scattered back to the perches save for the medic who had somehow avoided the spray.
“Are your medical stores not sufficient to the problem?” the medic asked, concern and well as youth making his fur fluff out.
The woman shook her head and shifted the infant to begin a presumably soothing bouncing motion.
“This started out as a virus and we were able to treat that easy enough, but apparenty feaked out our bodies so much our immune systems won’t calm down now. We ran out of the good anti-inflammation meds days ago,” she said. “Our synths can’t spin up something that complex.”
“How complex does an anti-inflamitory need to be?” The medic asked in surprise. “I know ground-sure that the human medical stores are full of the basic doses.”
The adult human nodded with a wry smile.
“And we are both on them,” she said. “They help a little, but when the human immune system decides to throw a fit…”
She shrugged and then shifted to direct her baby’s fresh droplet spray away from where the more adventurous of the flight were trying to stay in her thermal aura while avoiding the splash zone. The human bent her head down to quickly press her lips to the little one’s head and then sighed.
“Well you know how mammalian immune systems work,” she said. “I just walked out to get us some fresh air and to see if the arrivals board had updated. Moving helps settle his little tummy.”
She turned and resumed walking back towards her dwelling.
“Do we know how mammalian immune systems work?” Wing Commander Fourth Flick’s grooming partner asked with a note of mild horror in his voice.
“Not that I know of,” he answered shaking his head out, trying to clear the mental image of that spray of acid droplets out of his memory.

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Humans are Weird - Ingrown

9/28/2026

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Humans are Weird - Ingrown

“You know I can hear you,” Jose pointed out.
In the following pause he lifted his pack up onto the storage shelf that had been assigned to him. His big toe grazed the base of the shelf and he muttered an oath as the now familiar pain shot up his foot and into his leg.
“Why do you feel the need to tell us that?” Wing Commander Second Bite finally asked. “We are clearly discussing a topic you are interested in and were trying to include you by speaking in human audio tones. At no small amount of effort to my poor, tinny little vocal chords thank you very much.”
Jose grunted at that and pulled out a box of assorted electronic components, ties, and other such stuff he had been meaning to sort, clean, and stow all season. As he sat down at his workbench the conversation continued.
“There are times and seasons for all things,” a very rotted log that bulged up through the floor was saying. “Even if a growth is causing trouble, nay, even if the growth is causing discomfort, there is often a greater cost to removing it early, before it has had a chance to complete its task, or reach a useful bio-mass, than if you had waited and culled it at the true time.”
“And I am telling you that that is not how mammals work!” Second Bite snapped back. “We just don’t have the near infinite energy that you have access to on a bright-star world! Every gram we have to carry stress out our bodies and every calorie that goes to creating a flawed shield-form is a calorie that doesn’t go to mental load. Then there is just the problem of pain-”
“Surely you can ignore a signal once it has been determined to be irrelevant-” the log cut in.
“We cannot! Jose! Give be a pull up here!”
“Jose has been ignoring his own distress signals quite successfully for many weeks now.”
“Which is stupid as tossing chaff into the headwind!” Second Bite pointed out. “That is just him being human. A sane mammal wouldn’t ignore if a shield-form just started growing into their skin! There is literally nothing worse! It can lead to infection, crippling paws, even blindness!”
Jose gave a snort of laughter and pointed ran one hand through his hair. Second Bite gave a dismissive snort.
“Not all mammals are blessed with horns I suppose,” he admitted. “But the matter stands. We mammals, all depend on our dedicated biomass. We can’t just sacrifice a major chunk of it to convenience!”
“It would appear to be emergent that all you mammals can if Jose’s behavior is any indication in the matter. I was able to observe the appendage in question while he was wading in the north-stream yestereve-”
Jose burst into laughter and turned to look at the speaking log.
“Where did you learn to speak human basic Seethes?”
“That information is not relevant to this conversation, nor do I foresee it being relevant to any conversation I might have with you,” Seethes in the Turbid Waters responded coolly.
“Yeah, there is absolutely nothing suspicious about you,” Jose muttered as he turned back to his work.
“The appendage was swollen by nearly fifteen percent of its original volume-”
“And I keep telling and telling you!” Second Bite said, flinging up his wings in frustration. “You cannot use Jose for any metric of wise, healthy, or even normal human, let alone mammal behavior. Any normal human would have fixed the problem long before now.”
“Second Sister told me that if I tried to fix it again she was going to just amputate my toe, keep it in her sample freezer, and just have the Undulate medic reattach it when he got here.” Jose offered up.
For several long seconds Jose felt a funny tingling in his ears. Presumably Second Bite was processing that information at a frequency that was not ‘polite’ to use around humans, or other such hearing impaired species.
“I sincerely doubt that the good doctor would make such a decision unilaterally,” Seethes in the Turbid Waters finally spoke up. “Despite that it would no doubt handily solve all of your current problems.”
Jose bent nearly double with laughter this time and shook his head.
“My balance my good pile of duff, my balance. It would take me weeks, no, months to learn how to walk right again.”
“Second Sister was clearly being facetiousness!” Second Bite finally managed to say. “Unauthorized amputations are a serious, serious business. But this makes my point. Jose did try to solve his problem like a mammal. He is just bad at medical problem solving.”
“So he is waiting on time and tide to bring the situation to fruition,” Seethes in the Turbid Waters observed. “As is only wise.”
Second Bite flung up his wings in despair and fluttered over to where Jose was peeling the protective coating off of some pure copper wire.
“What did you try to fix your problem,” the Winged asked.
“Mostly just poking at it with something pointy to try and pull the nail out from where it was growing into my skin,” Jose said.
Second Bite tilted his head to the side as if waiting for more information and Jose just shrugged.
“Your ignorance is very educational,” Second Bite said and the speaking log gave a rumble of amusement.
Jose figured it must be some local joke he wasn’t privy to.
“Always glad to be a help,” he said.
“You really think that ignoring it to be the solution?” Second Bite asked.
Jose laughed.
“Ain’t much you can do for a hang-nail Little Bit,” he said, reaching up to give the Winged a fond scratch, and to offer his finger for a small bite of revenge for the nick-name if the Winged felt so inclined. “But I am not doing nothing. Second Sister has me doing a foot soak every night. That’s what I was doing in the creek where Seethes was spying on me apparently. Then I put some anti-microbial, skin healing stuff on the place. It takes down some of the pain and swelling. Beyond that, I just gotta wait for the medic with the right tools to get here.”
Second Bite gave a squeal of triumph and shot over to the speaking log again, leaving Jose’s offered finger bitten.
“You sound that!” Second Bite declared. “He is not leaving the ingrowth to time. He is actively treating it.”
“Chemical treatment is not the same as physical correction,” Seethes in the Turbid Waters stated with completely equanimity in the tone of the speaking log. “My meaning grows unaffected.”
Jose gave a chuckle and shook his head. Sure his toe pained him, but at least this little mundane annoyance was providing entertainment for the two most cantankerous sapients on the planet, and keeping them away from the rest of the population for now.

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Humans are Weird - Important

9/21/2026

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Humans are Weird - Important

A human was the perfect place to relax on a day like today. Liftssignificantly lifted one appandage tip after the other off the ground in an attempt to keep the biting cold of the rocky ground from creeping up to her core. Somewhere, in this crowd of bustling strangers, was a human who would sit down on one of the stone benches, let her climb up their legs, and then nestle into their lap. She could almost feel the welcoming aura of warmth emitting from the mammal’s massive core. A faint taste of human spices, a familiar taste of human spices pulled her attention to a cluster of humans tumbling out of a cottage nearby. The usual cinnamon and nutmeg they favored in the cold times, but also the strong flavor of anise. Liftssignificantly spun around and began shuffling quickly in that direction. As she suspected she soon heard the bright, cheerful voice of Human Friend Freddy, like morning sunlight filtering through the waters of a shallow home-reef.
Human Friend Freddy’s sister, a very round, rather short human was wrestling a bundle of cloth while her eldest offspring, a girl still pleasingly Undulate sized was tugging at her skirt and chattering happily.
“Moos and big in the middle and gots down legs! Umbers are long in the middle and gots up-down legs!”
The mother made a sound of agreement and Human Friend Freddy came out of the cottage carrying a basket that clinked with the sound of tool-grade metals. The human suddenly increased her pace and tossed the basket rather carelessly into the transport they were loading. Then wiggled herself in-between the mother and child, carefully prying the child’s hands off of the mother’s skirt.
“Mommy’s working Pip-squirt!” She said. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”
Human Friend Freddy guided the little one to one of the benches and Liftssignificantly heard the mother give a soft word of thanks.
“Umbers are not Moos!” The little human announced, now pulling Human Friend Freddy towards the bench. “Umbers are big, and Moos are big, but Moos got {long} noses! Umbers got {wide} noses!”
The human child, seemingly unsatisfied with mere sound words began gesturing with her hands to indicate shape and comparative size with gesture words. It seemed at first that Human Friend Freddy was entirely focused on the little human in that single-focus way that many humans often were, but then her hand came out to the side and she rapidly gestured without moving her eyes from her little pod-mate.
“Come on over and scrambled up on my lap Lifts! Pip won’t stop talking for awhile but she won’t mind you getting warm while she does.”
“Oh thank you!” Liftssignificantly said, first in gestures, then in sound when she remembered that Human Friend Freddy couldn’t turn her main cone of focus on her.
She climbed up in Human Friend Freddy’s lap and the little human Pip reached out to gently pet her in a wordless friendly greeting without pausing her disjointed description of the differences between the ‘Moos’ and the ‘Umbers’. Liftssignificantly had been around humans long enough to recognize the shortened name of the lumberbacks, the giant native herbivores the humans were attempting to domesticate with much success. She did not recognize the ‘Moos’ however she was getting a round description; hand fewer legs than a lumberback, had ‘down’ legs, and other details flowed from the little human Pip for several long minutes while Liftsignificantly basked in the mammalian warmth of Human Friend Freddy.
The elder human was completely focused on the younger and every angle of her appendages, every tone of her voice, the way her pair of bi-focal eyes focused on the little one, even the way the loose outer membrane of her face creased showed that she was treating this monologue seriously. However her pheromone profile was light and pleasant and Liftssignificantly was fairly certain she saw the humans lips twitching in a way that indicated suppressed humor more than once. Finally the little human Pip seemed to draw down like the tide rather than truly conclude the monologue in any way and ran off to play chase with her sister.
“And so now you know the main differences between a Lumberback and a Moose,” Human Friend Freddy said, leaning back with a laugh and raising a hand to set it companionably on Liftssignificantly’s dorsal side.
“I do,” Liftssignificantly agreed. “What is a Moose?”
“Oh some critter we half-domesticated at some point,” Human Friend Freddy said with a vague gesture to the north. “They are setting up a herd near Far-point to compliment the lumberbacks.”
“May I ask a potentially offensive question?” Liftssignificantly asked.
“Oh! Please do!” Human Friend Freddy replied, sitting up straight with eagerness.
“Were you treating little human Pip’s conversation seriously or not?” Liftssignificantly asked.
Human Friend Freddy opened her mouth and the shut it, her posture language went slack and she leaned back as she processed the question. Several long seconds passed and she took a deep breath before answering.
“I was trying to,” she finally said in a slow, serious tone.
Liftssignificantly let the silence wear down on the idea like the waves while Human Friend Freddy stroked her gently.
“You know,” the human finally said. “When I was a kid, Dad would say to my little sister, ‘Life’s tough when you’re only two feet tall.’, and you know? I always thought he was mocking her for complaining, because she didn’t have any chores then. She got lots of toys and treats, and she was showered with love.”
The human drifted off and began letting her eyes wander over the cold, winter landscape. The trees that had dropped their leaves, the crackling layer of ice that was scattered over the slow river.
“He was being dead serious though,” she finally said in a soft tone. “It’s a tough time. You don’t get to make any real decisions. People are always picking you up and doing stuff to you, and the thing is, you, I mean a human then, is getting just old enough to understand about fair and not fair, but their not really old enough to understand consequences and they have no idea about schedules and things outside of their small world.”
The silence fell again and Human Friend Freddy turned her eyes to where her little pod-mates were calling to each other as they dashed around some large sunning rocks in their garden.
“It’s really important that the adults teach the little ones to respect other peoples’ time and attention,” she said. “You can’t let a kid like that monopolize an adult who has an important task to do. They have to learn to respect other people’s boundaries or they grow up into … well we’ve had a lot of different names for it over the centuries but humans who grow up getting their way all the time don’t turn out well.”
The human fell silent again and her hands stilled.
“That is why you told little human Pip to let her mother work?” Liftssignificantly prompted.
Human Friend Freddy nodded.
“But then,” the human went on in gestures now, as if her hands could express the thoughts better. “It is tough, so tough, to be pushed around and told that your thoughts aren’t more important than doing the chores. It has gotta be so frustrating to feel like no one cares what you have to say.”
“But I have seen your sister interact with her children,” Liftssignificantly gestured back. “She spends much time talking to them, and listening to them. Surely this doesn’t apply to your pod?”
Human Friend Freddy gave a soft laugh.
“That’s what’s so tough about being two feet tall Lifts,” she gestured with a rueful pressure to the movements. “Your brain doesn’t keep all those threads in a grip. When a human is that stage it is really only the now that exists. It doesn’t matter that Mommy listened to you for an hour this morning, if she isn’t listening now it’s just as frustrating as if she never listened. It doesn’t matter that the difference between a moose and a lumberback is a boring fact of life to everyone around you, to you it is the biggest, most important revelation of your little life and you need to share it with everyone, and when they don’t want to be cornered and talked at about water being wet for a quarter of an hour, well its tough on a kid.”
Liftssignficantly hummed a slightly uneasy note, and Human Friend Freddy gestured an encouragement for her to express her thoughts.
“So when you spent so much time listening to her were you not interfering with intended family
discipline?” Liftssignificantly asked with some hesitation.
She was treading close to very serious taboos and she knew it, but the currents around such things were always turbid when dealing with other species and she was fairly certain that Human Friend Freddy would not take it seriously amiss even if she shoved an appendage right in it. However this time Human Friend Freddy only threw back her head and laughed.
“Nope!” she answered in both sound and gesture. “I got the Auntie rules. I am sill young, well rested, and unmarried! It’s both a duty and a privilege to spend time with the kiddos doing things like taking their important revelations seriously. My sister is the mom and has to handle all that discipline stuff. So Long as I don’t contradict what she says I can indulge Pip as much as I want. You heard how I pulled Pip off of her mom?”
“Yes,” Liftssignificantly said.
“The lesson there was to not interfere when someone was working,” Human Friend Freddy said, “and I keep Pip from interfering with her mom’s work. Pip knows that so the discipline holds, but then she gets to pass on her very important information and show off how much she knows, so she gets to feel like an adult is taking her seriously.”
“It sounds like it is useful for your sister that you live so close,” Liftssignificantly observed.
“I try not to make them regret my proximity,” Human Friend Freddy said with a grin.
“Would you mind loosening your coat a bit?” Liftssignificantly asked. “It is rather cold out here and all that excess mammal warmth is going to waste under there.”

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Limitations

9/15/2026

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Humans are Weird - Limitations

“A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go. Heigh ho, the dairy-o, a hunting we will go!” Grabsover flung the cheery human song against the walls of the swimming channel and reveled in the waves of music that washed back over him. He sacrificed a bit of swimming power and used a few appendages to resecure his hunting satchel that was slipping down his center of mass. The sound of the tools clinking inside filled him with delight.
He had packed the custom made mobilization cage they would need if their group managed to capture the iridescent broad-wing that had been sounded in the southern marshes. You needed three things to capture one of the beautiful insectiods; a chemical lure specific to the time of the year and the food sources present in the eco-system, a micro-tubal net specifically manufactured to precise tolerances to not damage their wings, and most difficult of all, a human who was large enough to have a limbspread greater that the iridescent broad-wing’s wingspan, while still being fast and dexterous enough to leap up and throw the net. On top of that you had to have a human who was willing to go out into the insectoid rich southern marshes in the blistering heat of the midday to capture an insectoid for fun.
“A hunting we will go!” Grabsover roared out as he burst up and out of the water-lock and into the common room of Human Friend Thibodeaux’s living structure.
Grabsover paused a moment to absorb the room and felt a ripple of disappointment when he noted that Human Friend Thibodeaux was not in the common area to appreciate his entrance. However Tugsquickly was nearby sorting the lure scents into travel containers and waved cheerfully at him with a few lagging appendages. Grabsover hustled over to Tugsquickly and opened his satchel, making sure to dump out any lingering water in the proper drainage channels. Tugsquickly then began passing him the finished lure containers to tuck into their slots. However he hadn’t even finished stowing the ones that were done before the unease in Tugsquickly’s gestured passed itself onto Grabsover.
“Is something wrong with Human Friend Thibodeaux?” Grabsover asked.
“I am afraid so,” Tugsquickly gestured with his lagging end. “His stripes were a very sickly color spread when he came into the common room though he said he was feeling fine..”
Grabsover slumped in frustration. He was concerned for his friend of course, but the expedition today would be all but pointless without him. They could at best take images of the iridescent broadwings, and they already had plenty of those.
“That is a human for you,” he said. “It is having a brain that does it. It takes unds for a signal to work its way from the point of injury to the rest of the body.”
“I don’t think it is an injury,” Tugsquickly said.
“An infection?” Grabsover asked, horror causing his lagging end to arch up.
“Not quite an infection either,” Tugsquickly said, switching to sound as he finished sorting the lures and began putting the larger containers away. “From what he said, I think it would be best to call it and invasion.”
Just then one of the big human doors swished open and a low, agonized groan drifted across the room. Both Undulates set their work down and scampered around the human couch to greet Human Friend Thibodeaux as the mammal staggered out of the waste disposal room. His colors were far worse than Grabsover had expected from Tugsquickly’s description. From the surprise and unease in the set of Tugsquickly’s appendages Human Friend Thibodeaux had gotten distinctly worse in the intervening time. The human’s colors were almost washed out.
“Where is you bile?” Grabsover demanded frantically.
Human Friend Thibodeaux raised his eyes just enough to look at him and his face contorted in confusion.
“In my gallbladder...I think?” Human Friend Thibodeaux said.
Even his voice seemed colorless and muted.
“I believe that my friend means your blood,” Tugsquickly interjected.
“Well that is still inside me, thank goodness,” Human Friend Thibodeaux said with a grimace, “Probably the only bodily fluid that still is at this point.”
“Your stripes are dim,” Tugsquickly explained. “That means your blood is no longer warming your outer membrane.”
“Ah,” Human Friend Thibodeaux replied with a nod. “I get ya’. Yeah, all my bloods gone deep in to warm up my guts and stuff. There a battle going down in the bayou, if you get my drift.”
“I do not,” Grabsover informed them.
Human Friend Thibodeaux gave a groan and staggered over to the couch.
“You know how human organs are mostly bags of one size or another,” Tugsquickly explained as they followed him.
“Vaguely,” Grabsover replied.
Human Friend Thibodeaux reached the couch and let his massive form flop backwards onto it. They scrambled up to have a brief fight over prime lap locations.
“Well the biggest bag is has essentially a whole marsh’s worth of biodiversity in bacteria, yeast, and other such creatures, is that correct Human Friend Thibodeaux?” Tugsquickly asked as he accepted the second best place.
“Sounds about right,” the human said.
He was now leaned back with his eyes closed.
“If the ecological balance of that ecosystem is disrupted humans can get various symptoms,” Tugsquickly paused and lifted his gripping end inquisitively at the human.
“I got the galloping runs if you must know,” the human said in those tired, colorless tones. “I can walk all right, but I don’t dare get too far from the bathroom.”
“He means that his internal digestive bags keep voiding themselves against his will,” Tugsquickly explained.
“So these things just...live...inside of you?” Grabsover asked, feeling somewhat morbid fascination.
“All the live long day,” Human Friend Thibodeaux confrimed.
His pale colors suddenly rippled and he surged up, displacing them both, before stumbling for the waste disposal room.
“Shall we go lure in the broadwing for observation or just stay here?” Tugsquickly asked as they rearranged themselves on the couch.
Grabsover tossed his satchel down and slumped into the couch.
“Let’s stay,” he said. “I’m sorry you wasted the lure mixes, but I have more images of the broadwings to process than I have time for already.”
“It is not problem,” Tugsquickly assured him.
They rested together in silence for a few moments.
“And he just has a whole marsh ecosystem living inside of him?” Grabsover asked.
Tugsquickly gave a rumble of amusement.
“With a recognizable genetic profile as unique as his own,” Tugsquickly assured him.
“And sometimes it just, go bad and decides to flee his body?” Grabsover asked.
“Well, he thinks it was an invading bacteria that his larger immune system is trying to purge,” Tugsquickly replied. “He suspects it has something to do with ‘taco night’.”

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Humans are Weird – Last Resort

9/7/2026

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Humans are Weird – Last Resort

The air was positively saturated with the savory taste of baked beans. Quilx’tch reached for his datapad to check the ambient temperature again, not because there was any question of the simple dish being spoiled by a moderate change, so much as to keep his paws busy so he didn’t take another sip from the rich broth that bubbled around the solid legumes in the mass.
“No wonder this is such a delicacy among the humans,” Ssss’ttt observed as she fiddled with her thermal mittens, presumably for the same reason.
Quilx’tch was about to reply when the main door opened, dropping the temperature in the room, and a sanitary technician in a standard bio-hazard suit rushed in. He glanced around with a strange mix of stress in his stiff, extended hairs and depressed resignation in the set of his joints. After the polite six seconds passed he approached Quilx’tch.
“May we borrow the antimicrobial cleaning agents from your department?” the sanitary technician asked.
Quilx’tch paused in surprise. The anthropological gastronomy department fully relied on the sanitary department to source all of their cleaning supplies on this base. In the normal weave of the day they would be asking them for such things. Still, politeness and basic common sense allowed for only one answer.
“Of course you may,” Quilx’tch said. “You will find them in that net.”
He gestured at the relevant storage compartment and without pausing to reply the sanitary technician tramped over to the net and quickly pulled out all of their anti-micorbials and, seemingly upon considerations, all of their anti-fungals as well. Then without a word he walked out of the room. Ssss’ttt angled her body at Quilx’tch and he tapped the floor thoughtfully with one claw.
“That was strange,” he acknowledged.
However there was very little more to be said on the matter. Quilx’tch made a point of filling out a request for more cleaning supplies, if sanitary was borrowing theirs there was no hope of getting more before the next resupply run, and they finished the ‘experimental’ batch of baked beans. The experiment being an informal taste test. A quite shameful misuse of University equipment, but it was a slow day and the slurry around the beans was so delicious that Quilx’tch was fairly sure it could be used to bribe any administrators to be numb to their trespass. After they had had their fill Quilx’tch and Ssss’tch loaded the remaining solid beans into a large thermal vat and placed it, and themselves on a scooter. The flat, wheeled transports they used to transport heavy equipment around a base built with much larger species in mind. The scooter hummed to life and swiftly carried them along the extra-wide spider-walk towards the human recreation area. The whole point of using the University kitchen equipment was to make enough to be worth sharing with their human friends after all.
However they arrived to find far more than the expected two or three humans that were usually there at this time of day. Ssss’ttt patted her manipulating paws together nervously.
“There won’t be nearly enough for them all,” she observed. “Oh, I knew we should have made a second vat.”
“I don’t think that is the most pressing concern at the moment,” Quilx’tch observed slowly as the scooter rolled around the perimeter of the room. The humans were gathered around a trio of the massive mammals at one table and from the way their massive bodies hunched, from the low rumbles of their voices, from the way the standing human was gently pulling back the impossibly long hairs of another…
“Something is very wrong,” Quilx’tch said and Ssss’ttt fell silent and observed. As they got closer to the cluster of humans they saw a similar cluster of Trisk whose body language was much more readable. They were grooming each other despite all of them having that stiff, crisp look of having just come out of high level hazmat suits. Worryingly they were at the far end of the table from the humans and Ssss’ttt gave an uneasy little shuffle on her ambulatory paws. Quilx’tch stopped the scooter and they scampered down from the spider-walk to the table.
Fts’stf turned from where he was grooming a very clean subordinate and his mandibles twitched in a pained grimace.
“It is without doubt a nasty situation,” he greeted them.
Quilx’tch hesitated for longer than the required six seconds as he wondered what he and Ssss’ttt had missed, being in their lab all morning. Seeming to sense their confusion Fts’stf setteled himself down on his paws and gestured towards the Trisk at the center of their grooming huddle and the human hunched over what was now clearly a large bowl.
“These were the crew first assigned to the clean up,” he said. “Their hazard materials suits were not breached but given the situation we are offering moral support grooming. The humans warned us that as there was a high likelihood of them spraying digestive acid-” at this point the human hunched over the bowl began making very uncomfortable noised as her body began contracting, “they suggested we keep a safe distance.” Fts’stf finished.
Quilx’tch waited six agonizing seconds before finally asking.
“What could have possibly caused this?”
Fts’stf flipped his paw over and gestured to one of the Trisk at the center of the grooming huddle, who stood on stiff legs and came over. Quilx’tch recognized him as a fairly important member of the sanitation team.
“There’s a leak under the waste bins,” he said. “Not bad. Not much, but it’s been leaking a good long time.” A shudder ran through his body. “It was the bin we put the waste meat in before it got decomped for the general org-matter mix. We finally had to pull them all for some general maintenance and Gst’k who was working the heavy lift got all splashed.”
A general tremor of horror ran through the grooming group at the memory.
“There is so much,” someone clicked softly, and no one seemed offended by the interruption, perhaps it was the horror in the tones.
“Tried to handle it ourselves,” the sanitation tech went on, “but all that volume meant we had to call in the humans, and we did try to warn them about the smell, but-”
“There are no words in any language to describe that smell,” one of the humans interjected from their end of the table.
There was a general murmur of agreement.
Quilx’tch was processing this when he saw Ssss’ttt angle her body up in a gesture of somewhat forced cheerfulness and address the humans. He thought he knew what she was planing, and it would normally be a good idea, but he had had some experience with humans already deep in a disgust reaction.
However there was no possible way to correct her without violating many layers of politeness.
“Perhaps a few of you might benefit from sharing our food?” Ssss’ttt suggested. “We don’t have much but I have heard that it is called ‘comfort food’ in human culture, so perhaps those most affected might find it comforting?”
“What do you have?” one of the humans asked, his body straightening with interest. However Quilx’tch noted that the human primarily focused on comforting the worst affected frowned in unease.
“Baked beans!” Ssss’ttt announced proudly.
“Beans?” croaked out the human hunched over the bowl. “No-they looked like beans-”
Her sentence was interrupted by some truly horrific wet, gasping sounds before her mouth opened and a stream of yellowish liquid full of chunks spilled into the bowl she was over. The rest of the humans scrambled away from her, save for the one holding her hair, and the wave of gasps and coughs suggested that she might not be the only human regurgitating her last meal. However the mammals managed to ‘keep it together’ as they were so fond of saying and Quilx’tch gently patted Ssss’ttt on her thorax.
“I will explain this particular rule about sharing food later, privately,” he promised her in tones too high for humans to hear.
“There was so much,” the human over the bowl gurgled. “Who is going to clean it up?”
The humans glanced at each other uneasily for several moments. Someone suggested placing the really big laser on a drone platform and vaporizing it remotely. That earned a few laughs. Finally the human who was still calmly holding the other’s hair spoke up.
“This seems like a job for Mountain Mike,” he said.
And uneasy ripple of energy went through all of the senior staff, human and Trisk alike.
“The trade budget is already strained,” Fts’stf commented, idly running his claws through the tines of his grooming brush.
“We need to get that stuff cleaned up fast,” the senior human, Jones Quilx’tch believed he was called. “We won’t be able to use the meat disposal bin till it is.”
A murmur of agreement, cut with a stray cough, ran through the gathered humans.
“Last Resort Mike, is what I heard him called,” another human commented.
“Yes,” Fts’stf agreed. “His prices are high and he does not enjoy communicating with any other sapient species, but his skills and...I am sorry what do you call the set of abilities that allows a human to endure tremendous discomfort?”
“Grit,” one human offered.
“Guts,” another suggested.
“Crazy,” a third muttered.
“Grit,” Fts’stf decided on firmly, “his grit and skills make him the only human, certainly no Trisk could, I would not ask them to, clean the spill up without experiencing unconscionable levels of distress.”
“He sounds like a very useful type of human to have on the fringes of our community,” Qilx’tch offered into the following strained silence.
“So who’s gonna’ call Last Resort Mike?” one of the sanitation techs asked.
The room fell into silence, broken only by the human over the bowl gagging softly. Finally the human holding her hair sighed and indicated another human to take his place.
“I’ll get him on the horn,” he said, “Fts’stf, I’ll need you and the rest of the authorized staff to grant me approval for the bargaining.”
“I do not think we are in any place to barter,” Fts’stf said with a rueful set to his mandibles. “That lake of … organic matter-”
“With bean things living in it,” the human over the bowl muttered.
At which point the rest of the human began gagging again, one of them snatched the bowl out of her hands to use it and the clusters of Trisk and humans moved away from each other with a strange unspoken but mutually expressed apology.
“No,” Jones agreed with a sigh, rubbing his eyes in that way that pushed them into his skull with a disgusting squish, “I don’t think we are in any position to barter. Last Resort Mike it is.”
Jones wove his way through the mass of humans and Ssss’ttt gently nudged Quilx’tch.
“Do you think this Last Resort Mike would want some baked beans?” she asked, a hopeful tilt to her abdomen. “It would be a shame for them to go to waste.

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Humans are Weird - War Games

9/1/2026

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Humans are Weird - War Games

The bad feeling rippled her frill for several seconds before First Cousin, was able to angle her thoughts away from the complicated tangle of prioritization in her main cone of attention. There was a shipment of Magnetes seminia arriving the next day, and although they had been preparing for weeks, the base was still in chaos. There was ample room in their facility to store the physical mass of the sample containers, but when an organism had the ability to sterilize an area through most conventional isolation materials a lab needed to be careful. One mistake could erase years of breeding efforts on a vital microbial species, or even just delay the work on more magneto-resistant species. She was just sending the order to move the Felicity orientalis to the top floor storage room as an extra security layer when what she had heard and barely seen in her prehefiery registered.
First Cousin snapped to all four feet from her couch and vigorously shook her head to straighten out her thought vines. The open foryer was now empty, the human who had spoken the words, and commited the violation was gone. Though technically two humans had commited a violation now that she was focused on the memory. First Cousin paused only long enough to note that her workstation had slipped back into general mode and followed the only unknown pheromone trail in the facility. The harsh natural light burned down into her psyche, if not onto her membrane adding a sense of harsh urgency to her hunt. The humans loved their tall, open spaces in structures built for the purposes of science, and even if the ceiling made of windows sucessfully blocked out the harmful solar radiation it did nothing to convince her deep-brain that she wasn’t going to peel to death or get snatched by a predator. She felt her fingers twitch and wished, not for the first time that she could justify carrying her Second Grandmother’s ceremonial spear during working hours. The heft of the hexagonal shaft was just so comforting when confronting the massive mammals that made her work so difficult.
She rounded one of the unnaturally sharp corners that humans favored and paused, real unease prickling her frill. The pheromone trail, and the faint hint of caffeine and bitter aromatics, led to the massive biohazard bin that sat at the junction, ready to receive whatever waste the labs spat out. That the intruder human had gained entrance by breaking University policy was suspicious, that he was now hiding in an ambush position was condemning.
First Cousin snatched up her communications device and hit the alert to summon security to her location. However, before she could explain the situation to the University dispatcher, or figure out a way to use automated responses meant to sterilize bacterial spills to restrain a mammalian predator five times her mass, First Molecular Biologist came around the corner in his usual, criminally casual way. His protective coveralls were undone and tied loosely around his waist revealing his short sleeved personal garment underneath with its irreverent and scientifically inaccurate ‘joke’ woven into the fibers, his safely goggles hung off one fleshy ear, his visual corrective lenses hung off the other in a manner that was guaranteed to damage them. He was holding an open personal beverage container in one hand meaning he had been drinking it in the lab, again. His other hand held a petri-dish and a datapad and his attention was entirely focused on reading something as he stumbled down the hallway.
First Cousin froze for a critical second, torn between arching up and attacking First Molecular Biologist over the many, many safety violations he was committing, again, and warning him of the potential attack.
She broke through the lockup and managed to click out a warning in the human audio range. First Molecular Biologist started, spilling some of his drink onto the petri dish, and the floor, and his exposed outer membrane, and glanced up at her.
“Yo, First Organizational Specialist,” he said, his face wrinkling into an expression of wry, but unrepentant humor, “I swear it’s not-”
The biohazard bin exploded open and an even larger human that First Molecular Biologist leapt out roaring at decibels First Cousin did not know humans could emit.
“Queen!Queen!”
First Molecular Biologist emitted a shriek at a frequency First Cousin had only previously heard from very small female humans and yanked the hand holding his beverage away from the attack, as if his primary fear a was having it stolen. Strange priorities, and ineffective methods if so, as most of the rest of it spilled. First Cousin wished again for her Second Grandmother’s spearas she arched to her full height and hissed furiously at the attacking human, flaring her frill red. The human might out-mass her but Shatar mandibles were far more suited for biting into their soft, fleshy outer membrane than human teeth were at returning the bites. As long as she could dodge the blows of those club like hands she could get in a few nips on his exposed neck and most humans fled at that point in her experience. Not that she could do much damage but if you acted feral enough the greater majority of humans wouldn’t call your bluff-
First Cousin paused and took a deep breath. The ‘attacking’ human had remained in the bin, bent over the side, roaring with laughter. First Molecular Biologist had staggered back, slipped on his spilled beverage, staggered, regained his always precarious footing, breathed heavily for a few moments while staring wide-eyed at the ‘attacking’ human before doing that thing where human rotated their eyes in their sockets to display annoyance.
“Real mature dip-wit,” First Molecular Biologist said.
That this was possibly the most hypocritical line of attack for someone who wore shirts with childish jokes woven into them, occurred to First Cousin as her frill began to settle.
“You scared Only Nominal Security Officer,” First Molecular Biologist said waving his now almost empty beverage cup at her.
“She’s a big girl,” the other human said as he struggled to get one leg over the edge of the bin. “She’ll get over it.”
“You made me spill my drink,” First Molecular Biologist said with a pout.
“Got you a new one,” the other human said holding out a sealed bio-hazard container with ‘drink for stupid-head’ written on the label.
“Ooo,” First Molecular Biologist replied reaching for the bag.
“Would someone explain what this,” First Cousin waved at the chaos in front of her, the spilled drink, the human in an Alpha Class biohazard suit presumably so he could hide safely in the biohazard bin, the mock-attack, and the friendly resolution, “what this all is?”
“I just found a flaw in your security,” the intruder said, flashing her all of his many, many teeth in a predatory grin, “you are welcome!”
“How did you get in Dip-wit?” First Molecular Biologist asked as he made as if to tear the biohazard bag open.
“You are not drinking or eating outside of the designated safe areas,” First Cousin hissed at him.
He stared and gave her a slightly weaker grin than the intruder had.
“A wizard never reveals his secrets,” the intruder said as he managed to fall out of the bin.
“He walked into the outer foyer,” First Cousin cut in, not caring about being rude at this point. “Told Second Mammalian Infections Researcher that you had ordered the drink and asked to be let through the security gate.”
“And Bob just let Dip-wit through?” First Molecular Biologist asked.
“It’s my roguish charm,” the other human said.
“It was psychological weakness on Second Mammalian Infections Researcher’s part,” First Cousin snapped. “One I will address with him shortly.”
“Well you have fun with that,” the intruder said, giving a cheerful wave. “I won this round of the game clear and free-”
“You did,” First Molecular Biologist said in a conceding tone, and raising his beverage in salute.
“And now I will just be off-”
First Cousin felt the vibrations of the approaching security team before either of the humans could have seen them. Four extra-large humans, two of which had Undulates trained in human restraint perched eagerly on their shoulders. They came around the corner in full bio-hazard gear and the leading human instantly flung his Undulate partner at the intruder. The intruder fell to the ground with the Undulate pinning his hands together, while cheerfully chattering something in appendage gestures. First Cousin was by no means fluent in Undulate gesture language but the sturdy little sapient seemed extremely happy to finally be using his training.
“This still counts as a win! Queen! Queen!” the intruder yelled out as two of the humans lifted him off his feed and began dragging him away.
“Whatever makes you happy Dip-wit,” First Molecular Biologist called out with a huge grin on his face.
When his friend and the security detail were out of sight he glanced down at First Cousin.
“How much trouble am I in?” he asked with that signature un-repentent smile.
“If you were my Brother I would tie you up in First Father’s garden and leave you there with nothing but you empty brain case to keep you company,” First Cousin said as she massaged her frill in an effort to calm her endocrine system down.
“That bad huh?” the human asked with a wince.
“For now I have to go deal with the more imperative issue that Second Mammalian Infections Researcher will, apparently just let anyone into roam about our most delicate experiments,” First Cousin said. “I will deal with your many, many lesser violations later.”
“You want violations, you should see what I do to Dip-wit for the next round of our game.” First Molecular Biologist said with a cheerful grin.
“Are you forgetting that I am, by legal requirement, ‘all kinds of narc’ as you described it?” First Cousin demanded, giving him her absolute best “First Sister” look.
The human only laughed and walked away, she heard the biohazard container hiss and smelled the warm scent of tea long before he would have reached a safe eating room. She sighed and began the hung for the larger security violation.

Author Betty Adams Books
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"Be Strong Enough to be Gentle"

8/27/2026

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“His family asks that you honor his remarkable legacy by serving your communities and leading others with compassion, integrity and loyalty and always remember ‘be strong enough to be gentle,’”
People Magazine

In 2012, well over a decade ago, a funny artist I followed on DA posted this collab with Peter Cullen and Hasbro Children's Hospital.
https://www.deviantart.com/ninjaink/art/Voice-of-a-Generation-UPDATE-296726577
It was a single run of a tee-shirt with this design with all profits going to the hospital. I got one of course and wore it on my adventures.
Peter Cullen's family has posted that they want folks to direct their energy into helping other so I I thought I'd also post my personal favorite children's charity.

https://donorcare.net/Donation/MamaBabyHaiti

After the 2010 Earthquake my family doctor hopped on a plain and flew with a group of her friends (Dr.s and Midwives) out to the wreckage in hopes that they could help with mothers and babies. She asked for donations and I slipped her what little cash I could in a battered envelope. Things in Haiti were rough, it was hard to do their job, but out of this first trip came Mama Baby Haiti. They are focused on caring for pregnant mothers and their babies. Their moto is: "No more Mwen Regret Sa".
Anyway I thought this image was fitting as it was at one point personally approved by Peter Cullen himself.

Till all are one.

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Humans are Weird - Judgement

8/24/2026

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Humans are Weird - Judgement

Fourteenth Trill woke to a throbbing pain in his hindmost horns and twitched his nose in discomfort. He stretched a wing out to feel for his nearest wingmate, and then stretched further, and further, with his wings spread awkwardly he finally opened his eyes and looked around blearily in the crisp morning air. The rest of the wing was huddled along the north side of the perch tree, clearly seeking shelter from the earthy scented morning air in the lee of Brock’s massive coat. Fourteenth Trill grumbled to himself as he started to shuffle his paws along the branch. Someone might have poked him in the neck to let him know about the shift.
He paused and took another look at the huddled mass as a thermal of a thought filtered up to him. There were inside what was supposed to be a sealed base with a fully functional life support system. Why was it cold enough to induce a huddle at all? He heaved a sigh and stretched out his wings fully, exposing his winghooks to the nipping cold. He stretched out first one foot-paw and then the other before leaping off his perch and flying down to the always active display for the life support controls. He flipped up the cover from the read out and glared down at the Ranger Corps standard language display.
“And nothing is wrong,” he muttered to himself.
Every single readout and setting was displaying accurate reading and placement. But the vents to the outside air were fully open, letting the temperature drop far below the preferred levels. He probably should wait for Brock to wake up before fixing this. It wasn’t cold enough that they had to worry about hypothermia, but it was still cold, and as Wing Commander Fourteenth Trill he did have the authority. He cranked the control knob all the way over to the ground setting and stepped on the power button. The display briefly blinked off and Fourteenth Trill lightly clicked his winghook against the knob twelve times before pressing the power button and returning the knob to its previous position. Around him the system hummed and the soft clicking of the windows cycling shut promised the return of warmth. He was about to return to the sleeping wing but hesitated.
It was unlikely that any of the humans had noticed the temperature change. With their massive thermal banks, and bundled under their covering blankets they would probably have slept on unaffected even if the base temperature had reached equilibrium with the outside air. Heaving a sigh Wing Commander Fourteenth Click leapt up into the cold air and flew around the corner to where the massive mammals were currently slumbering under their blankets. That is, all except for Chief Engineer Brock Evelyn, whose massive head was raised, and whose face was pouting at something on the floor our of Fourteenth Trill’s line of sight.
Relieved that he wouldn’t have to wake the human and curious as to what had drawn that look from the fully adult mammal, Fourteenth Trill gave a quick sounding click into that corner of the room, and grimaced as he landed on a high window ledge where it would be easy for Brock to see him. That terrifying beast, three times the size of a Winged, full of far too many razor sharp teeth, and seemingly possessed of mind control over the humans in the base if that was possible, was coiled up returning the human’s gaze from the distant, dark corner of the room. One of its paws was placed on the body of some native rodent and its four eyes stared unblinkingly at the human. Fourteenth Trill was certain that had he been able to actually see it, the beast’s eyes would have glinted evilly as it worked it manipulations on the human.
“I keep telling Mittens that I’m diurnal,” Brock said in a whisper. “But the little goober keeps judging me! He thinks that if he is out getting meat for the winter at second moon-rise, I should be too.”
“I am judging you right now,” Fourteenth Trill pointed out, “but you are not looking at me.”
“For not being awake yet?” Brock asked rotating his head to flash his broad, flat teeth in a grin.
“For being awake when you should be sleeping,” Fourteenth Trill corrected him.
“Eh,” the human grunted, but started settling back onto its sleeping surface. “Judge away. You ain’t nearly as cute as Mittens. He’s got those soulful eyes.”
Fourteenth Trill licked in teeth in exasperation.
“You didn’t come in here just to scold me ‘bout my sleep schedule,” Brock offered with a yawn.
“The life-support system opened the windows again,” Fourteenth Trill replied.
“Did’ja log it?” Brock asked, his eyes blinking slowly.
“I will,” Fourteenth Trill confirmed.
“You little guys warm enough?” Brock asked.
“We are using your coat for a temporary shelter, but yes.” Fourteenth Trill said.
“S’fine,” Brock said with another yawn. “Should keep you plenty warm. I’ll start the seasonal system debug tomorrow and see if I can find-hey!” The human suddenly perked up. “Want me to send Mittens over? He’s got plenty of body heat to spare and can drape himself over the perch tree just fine.”
“No!” Fourteenth Trill said, feeling every touch of fur on his body stiffen and fluff out.
“Suit yourself,” Brock said with a yawn before dropping back to sleep.
Fourteenth Trill gave a final click into the dark corner, and was disconcerted to find only the torn body of the local rodent and no sign of Mittens. With a grunt he reminded himself that the creature really posed no danger to a Winged and took off for the sleep perch. He found a spot in the gradually loosening huddle by the medic and landed. He hung there for a few long, cold moments before jabbing the medic with his winghook. The medic grumbled but opened one eye.
“Do you really think that the Chief Engineer values the judgment of Mittens over me? A sapient being. A Wing Commander. His personal friend?” Fourteenth Trill demanded.
The medic blinked at him, gave a massive yawn, and very understandably really, lowered his head and gave him a solid headbutt before snuggling back into sleeping mass of the wing.

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Lost and Found

8/17/2026

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Humans are Weird - Lost and Found

The warm angle of the front porch really wasn’t supposed to be a lounging site. Human feet trod quickly past the site, their focus on getting into the house, or getting out into the busy little community making the site theoretically dangerous for species who didn’t want to get stepped on. The ground limestone foundation had been pressed with tessellated patterns that were visually pleasing and kept the clumsy bipeds safe from slipping and throwing their falling gate out of pattern, but it tasted of nothing save the dust that collected in the groves. However if you had healthy scutes and sturdy scales, underlayed by reasonably dense bones, and an attractive layer of fat, well what did it matter if a human stepped on you? Just keep your snout safely tucked in the curve of your foreleg and at the cost of a few non-repentant apologies you had the whole morning to bask in the local sunlight.
If the grain scattered very, very well in your direction, one of the local domestic animals came and judged you a fitting headrest and came and basked with you. Sift, stretched out a claw and ‘scritiched’ the creature under its chin. It gave a grunt and the motion dislodged a small cloud of warning pheromones from its collar. Sift made a mental note to ask what its species designation was. It wasn’t a ‘cat’. Those creatures, despite being perfectly ideal for keeping local vermin off of grain stocks were rated as far too dangerous to exist in mixed colonies. Sift thought this was a bit of over caution, but it had been agreed to by the humans. This might be a ‘dog’ but the species had so much variety, supposedly going back long before the humans mastered genetic manipulation that it was hard to tell if a given mammal fell into that category. It had fur to be certain, and it was very dependent on human interaction.
The door of the dwelling swung open, knocking against the hip of the creature and it gave a mild huff of annoyance as it heaved its mass, up and away from the door. Mary stepped out, holding the little one on her hip, Sift felt a surge of now familiar admiration of the usefulness of the baby holding ledge humans had built in. Mary’s other hand held a container of the domestic creature’s food, a mix of grain and animal fat that it particularly enjoyed and it began to cavort around Mary’s feet while Mary scanned the ground with growing perplexity. She began examining the shelving with a wrinkled face and Sift lifted up her head and idly licked her teeth.
“Rooting around for something?” she asked.
Mary started and glanced down at her in surprise.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” she said, shifting the little one who was focused on drinking water out of a soft cup.
“Here I am,” Sift commented, wondering not for the first time exactly how human vision worked. “What are you looking for?”
“The food bowl for Snuffles,” Mary said indicating the animal who had decided to sit down and tremble with eagerness until its food was forthcoming.
Sift rolled over and lifted her snout to sniff with dramatic emphasis. Then she swung her tail to indicate a door set low and subtly into the wall of the structure.
“I smell the grain and rancid fat in here,” she said with a yawn.
Mary’s face creased in a frown and she set the little one down. Instantly it ran, smacking its fat little feet against the porch, to vigorously pet the creature. Snuffles started back with a wince, and then braced itself to accept the affection. Mary used her now free hand to open the door and pull out the container.
“How-” she started to ask, but the little human made a dash at the food bowl, hands eagerly out, and Snuffles sat back with a resigned sigh.
Mary snatched the little one up and scolded the very unrepentant child.
“We don’t steal Snuffles’s food!” she said.
Snuffles got back up and began happily rooting through the food.
“No one would have put the bowl in the utility access point,” Mary observed out loud.
“It has very small human handprints on the side,” Sift pointed out.
Mary squinted down at the bowl and blinked in surprise before turning her attention to her offspring.
“Why would you do that, you chubby little chonker?” she demanded, pinching the jiggling rolls of fat on the little human’s thighs?
The little one giggled and smacked her face. Mary with clear effort turned her laugh into a frown and captured the chubby little arm in a hand.
“We don’t smack Mommy,” she said in what was trying to be a firm tone.
Sift gurgled in amusement.
“But why?” the adult human demanded.
“The little one does see you putting bowls in similar storage places on a regular basis,” Sift pointed out.
Mary blinked down at her in startled thought until the little one used his other hand to reach up and smack her, and she had to repeat the gentle discipline. Human hatchlings, apparently hated being restrained, at least this one did. Once that was done Mary gave a rueful smile down at Sift.
“I guess you are right,” she admitted. “I’ll have to remember that little trick until he gets bored of it.”
Sift blinked up at the human as she went back in the house. The two of them had spent many long hours discussing human learning patterns. Mary was well aware of the fact that all sapient creatures learned by mimicking their elders to one degree or another, that this was the core of the universal concept of ‘play’. Yet it seemed that she had forgotten it. Sift yawned and flipped over, stretching her hind-claws against the texture of the porch. This might be yet another manifestation of ‘baby brain’ that Mary talked so much about. Or it might be something worth noting in her research journal. At the moment Snuffles was done eating, the sun was still at the perfect napping angle, and human architecture consistently made delightful sunning nooks.

Author Betty Adams Books
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Andy Weir is Not a Great Writer - He is a Brilliant MythMaker in the Tradition of George MacDonald

8/16/2026

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Andy Weir is Not a Great Writer - He is a Brilliant MythMaker in the Tradition of George MacDonald
https://youtu.be/YIaIydJdnHk?si=o043qIo9BILmUlE9

Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Up Again

Humans are Weird - Up Again

Humans are Weird - Ingrown

Humans are Weird - Ingrown

Humans are Weird - Important

Humans are Weird - Important

Humans are Weird - Limitations

Humans are Weird - Limitations

Humans are Weird – Last Resort

Humans are Weird – Last Resort

Humans are Weird - War Games

Humans are Weird - War Games

"Be Strong Enough to be Gentle"

Humans are Weird - Judgement

Humans are Weird - Judgement

Humans are Weird - Lost and Found

Humans are Weird - Lost and Found

Andy Weir is Not a Great Writer - He is a Brilliant MythMaker in the Tradition of George MacDonald

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