kar

-get good running shoes

-have water with you

-have a lighter

-have a weapon. If you can’t get one, get a knife(so you can heat it up with the lighter and) or a hairspray/deodorant(you can make it a flamethrower with the lighter)

Good luck

Sometimes I have an entire conversation with Ripley before stepping back and realizing how cool that is.

I arrive home late from a potluck and the house is dark. From the bottom of the stairs I say, "Hey Ripley, I'm back."

"Wanna come out," he answers, which is a pretty standard reply when I first get home. It's midnight, way past his bedtime, but he hasn't been out of his cage at all today because we're dog sitting my mom's very untrustworthy dog (with whom Ripley is unfortunately fascinated). So I say, "Sure."

As I walk into his room he lifts up a foot in a way I recognize as meaning "I'm ready to step onto your hand," so as I open his door I say, "Let's go in the kitchen." I offer him the chance to poop in the trash can, but he declines with a small clicking noise. I ask him if he would sit on a chair, but warn him that first I need to move Coat Shirt off of it (shirt is his catch-all word for clothing), and he makes a little "hm" of acknowledgment.

After he steps onto the back of the chair I say, "I've gotta go downstairs, can I leave you up here for a minute?"

"Okay," he answers as I leave the room.

Upon returning I say, "Thanks for waiting in here." It's taken years of practice for me to talk to Ripley like he's a person (he is), but now it's second nature. He gets insistent if I'm quiet for too long.

"Do want a carrot," Ripley says, leaning toward the fridge.

"I can get you a carrot." My usual reply when he asks for a healthy food. I hand him a baby carrot from the fridge.

He takes a couple bites and shakes the carrot around gingerly in his foot. "I like it."

"I'm glad. Can I touch you?" I reach out to pet his back but he gives me a subtle look: a twitch of his pupils and a fractional declination of his head that means, "no thank you." Ignoring this is a serious offense.

"Okay, no touch. A kiss, then?" He leans toward me and squints: an invitation. As I lean back, he makes a trilling sound and smushes the top of his head against my face. "Thank you," I say.

After several more kisses I ask him what kind of bedtime treat he wants. "A peanut."