Dragon update

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green-dragon It’s been a while, so it’s probably time for a dragon update. As you’ll recall, I introduced you to my (secret, don’t tell anyone) brood back in 2011, and reported on the chaos that erupted when they thought there were going to be rainbow dragons at Pride Visalia 2018.

Well, they’re now nine (going on ten, as they are quick to remind me) and getting near to dragon puberty. The older ones, who fly in from time to time to check on us, assure me it gets easier as they get older, but I’m not sure I believe them.

Over the years, I’ve had to enlarge the basement several times to accommodate the weyr, and if the neighbors ever dig deep on their lots we could be in trouble. So far, so good, though.

The biggest problem, of course, other than the fire-breathing, is letting them out for exercise. It’s problematic, having dragons flying around Visalia late at night. Most adult humans are oblivious, no doubt because they know that dragons aren’t real. They seldom look up at the sky anymore, anyway. Kids, though, are something else. They’re always looking at the sky, and spot the group fairly frequently. Fortunately, when they squeal and yell out, “Mommy! Daddy! Dragons!”, they usually get a distracted “that’s nice, dear”. As more and more kids get a cell phone, which have ever-increasingly sophisticated cameras, it’s only a matter of time before someone gets a decent picture of the group, led by Draco, soaring above town. (He’s quite fond of downtown. If you see a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a downtown building that you don’t remember seeing before, that’s probably him. Ignore him. You’ll feed an already inflated ego if you don’t. I don’t need that. He’s always been the most insufferable of the group, please don’t make it worse! The others tend to hide in trees. They’re still a bit shy in public.) I’m hoping dismissing it as a photoshop will be enough to keep people guessing. After all, we’re still waiting for a definitive photograph of Sasquatch, right?

The voices are still London-boys-after-helium-hits squeaky, although not quite as bad as when they were very small. The sibling rivalry is still there, perhaps not as dire as it once was, but it may be the calm before the puberty storm. They still think they sound wise and venerable, but we won’t tell them that doesn’t really happen until *after* puberty.  Can you imagine them trying to insult each other as their voices crack? It’s going to be difficult to stifle my amusement.

And hormones. Oh dear… dragon hormones. The old ones refuse to tell me what to expect with that, and Google doesn’t seem to know, either. I’m not sure if teen-aged dragons can do eye rolls, but I bet they come up with something just as annoying.

The brood is mostly under control, and they haven’t burned down my house, or ate any of the neighborhood cats (as far as I know). I’m a bit concerned about the availability of Dragon Chow, however. With this Coronavirus thing going on, delivery might be an issue. I’m assured supplies are adequate, and I have plenty for now (they only sell in bulk anyway), so we should be good. Thank goodness dragons are immune to human diseases!

So that’s the update. They are currently back in the basement, sleeping quietly, and no doubt dreaming dragon dreams of valor and adventure. I had to turn off the TV a little while ago, as they fell asleep watching another movie about a dragon who saves the kingdoms of the world from evil.

Sleep well, my little heroes.

Rainbow Dragons at Pride Visalia?

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Baby Dragon

Draco, in an early pic, 2011

It never fails. I should never let them look over my shoulder when I’m on the computer.

I’ve written about them before, back when they were first born. (I can’t tell them they’re hatched, for some reason they don’t like that. I think it has something to do with an inferiority complex about competing with birds. I know, it’s weird.)

Since then, I’ve kept them out of my blogs, and off my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram feeds. They’re already insufferably vain, and making them the center of attention would be unbearable. (oh, if you met them you’d think they’re charming, well behaved, and as entertaining as hell, but you don’t have to live with them!)

They’re seven years old now, and quite the handful. Over the years we’ve managed to not burn down the house or set the yard on fire. Mostly. There was that one time I had to convince the fire department that it was just the BBQ making all that smoke, while they hid on the roof, trying to look like I have a strange hobby of collecting gargoyles. Fortunately it was after dark, and they weren’t noticed. Crisis averted.

Their voices are still juvenile, though. I’m waiting for dragon puberty to hit, and for those sophisticated British accents to kick in. Still sounds like a lot of London boys sniffing helium going on around here, and sometimes it gets on one’s nerves. Good thing they’re still as cute as can be. (When they’re asleep.)

Today, I messed up, and I’m not sure how to contain the furor now unfolding in my dragon lair.

Did you see this?

rainbow_dragon

Boy, they did. I was on my laptop, scrolling through Facebook, when I landed on this. I hadn’t realized Draco was behind me, snooping. (I try to keep them away from the computer as much as I can. It’s really hard to clean smoke residue off the screen after they’ve been watching Dragonheart and Eragon on endless loop.) He let out a very un-dragonly squeal, demanding to know what that was. “Nothing” wasn’t going to cut it.

Draco called the others over, and they all huddled around the computer, squeaking and squawking about it, demanding to know what it was all about.

I told them some humans love dragons (I glared at them enough to make them wonder whether I was one of them or not) and had made some buttons and other gear for the upcoming Pride Visalia. They were quite pleased. And, of course, they want to go.

How do you tell a bunch of seven year old dragons they can’t go to the festival to see the other dragons? They’ve decided it’s not just buttons and pins, and that there are going to be other dragons there. Rainbow dragons.

I’m not sure how I’m going to contain this.

 

Here Be Dragons

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You know, it’s bad enough when you have to deal with the bad breath, the scorching, and the mess  (what the HELL do they eat that comes out smelling THAT bad???)…  but I SPECIFICALLY told them I was NOT going to play baby sitter to a brood of the little demons.

I explained the facts of life to them, even going as far as doing research so I wouldn’t steer them wrong, but it appears it was all for naught.

Oh, they gave me some lame excuses…  you know the ones…  about how it couldn’t happen while they were flying, or how it couldn’t happen their first time over a new continent, or how they just didn’t do such things!  Yeah.  Right.

So now I’m stuck.  And it’s no fun, either.  They won’t do as I say, they fly right in front of your face buzzing around like a giant mosquito, and a burp can end up burning the house down!  The little bastards think they’re the gods of the universe, since they can fly and breathe fire!   I try to take them down a notch now and then… I’ve told them it’s only methane, and it only works because there’s a venting error going on, but they’re having none of that.

The British accents on the big ones lend them an air of solemnity and wisdom, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s an affectation rather than an inborn trait.  The little ones sound ridiculously squeaky, and it’s a hoot to listen to them try to sound dignified and wise…  that’s just not going to work.  Especially when they start calling each other names.  Sibling rivalry runs rampant in this brood, as I suspect it does in all of them, and apparently ” fire proof ” is the vilest of invectives.  It cracks me up every time they use it on each other…  all I can hear is some little brat from London, after a hit from a helium balloon.  (Don’t tell them… they’re still a bit sensitive about their voices.  It’s something they’ll grow out of eventually, but you know kids…  later might as well be forever)

The only thing that saves their little greenish backsides is that they’re so damned cute when they’re asleep!  (Which supposedly only happens when they’re little.  The big ones claim never to sleep.  I don’t know whether to believe them or not.)

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