I thought I could fly – but I just forgot how to land.
She won’t play anymore. Is she tired? Can’t you make her play with me?
Sender-inner Aimee B. tells us that the young Wheaten is Ella and the worn out Wheaten is Lady.
but if you try and try and try and try and try and try and try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.
Sender-inner Jessica B. says, “This pup is not mine! This video is not mine! But this video is too cute not to share!”
Where cats get together on weekends to ritually undertake Catly Things:
Fave “We’re There For Ya We Can Get Thru This Thing” Frames:
Oh my, oh my VideOmy
Hey soldier, don’t forget your wingman down here. Can I have a kees too?
“Soldier’s Goodbye & Bobbie the Cat”, by Sam Hood 1872-1953, State Library of New South Wales
I’m actually a pacifist.
Lucky the Boxer is brought to us by Jennifer S. and now we feel lucky, too.
Bye-bye Grumpy Cat, hello pouty moufs!
“I was in Barbados last week on vacation and found this awesome pouty-mouthed crab on Bathsheba beach. Just look at his little surly face! I thought this would be a great addition to Cute Overload. I shot these photos, so you can credit me, Raena C.!”
Trisha H. promises her Japanese Chin, Yoshi, really is a happy dog! “Yoshi is a rescue that we could not imagine life without. When I took this picture, he had just finished chasing cows, so he’s a bit dirty. His hobbies include violently licking furniture, being confused, snuggling with his shih tzu sister, and looking at Cute Overload! I believe this photo is Cute Overload worthy! My furbabies and I love Cute Overload, keep doing what you do!” (OK, OK, since you mentioned Cute Overload three times!)
And now everyone, for your Peg, the-kind-hearted-Mom-who-helps-Edward-Scissorhands, moment!
Fave, “My, those are your hands? Those are your hands! What happened to you? Where are your parents? Um… Your mother? Your father? Are you alone? Do you live up here all by yourself?” Frame:
Lydia K., via YouTube. Video possibly from Bat Rescue Inc. Unconfirmed. Any info appreciated!
“Each year vaccinated wildlife rescuers hand rear baby flying foxes. At the end of the hand rearing process, (usually at about 13 weeks of age) the weaned babies are sent to baby bat crèche where they learn appropriate battie socialization skills. Tobermory had wing tip injuries sustained on rescue and shared the hospital aviary with several others, including 2 little guys who still required a morning bottle feed. As I searched in the bedding materials for the recipients, (weaned) Tobermory snuck over and made off with one of the bottles. I was impressed with his stealth and ingenuity and the fact he knew the bottle needed to be upended for the milk to flow. He afterwards got a bowl of warm milk for his trouble. Tobermorey is a grey headed flying fox and after his injuries were resolved, he was released back into the wild with his 60 crèche companions.”
Can YOU scratch your own back with your nose? DIDN’T think so.
“Hi, I’ve just come across your website and thought you might want to share this cute/sad puffin pic?”
[JUST came across our website? -Ed]
“This is ‘Homeslice’, he is a black bear, looking into our cabin, we got in trouble from the bosses for letting him get that close to our cabin. But I couldn’t help getting that great photo. And, I think he might have eaten something gross, like an old fish carcass. Right before he laid down in this cute as heck position, he was sitting on the log gagging like he was throwing up in his mouth (not being cute at all) he then laid down
for about 30 minutes. I was working nearby sampling Sockeye Salmon for the Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game. We saw ‘Homeslice’ quite a lot that summer. I feel he was abandoned early or his Mom was shot by hunters cause he seemed too small to be on his own.
Photo by me: Bob F.
PS- why the name ‘Homeslice’?
The Short version: Just ’cause.
The Long version: I’ve been going up to that same spot in AK for the last 11 years. I like to think it is the same bear, but when my co-worker and I first saw him he was a lone cub that would come down to the river with his Mom. We then called him ‘PocketBear’ just because he was small and cute. We would watch as his Mom would leave the scene while ‘PocketBear’ would be sniffing around, and then he’d look up and see that she was gone. I think Mom may have had an alchohol problem or was just exercising bad parenting. The following summer there was this teen cub, which we imagined was ‘PocketBear’. He was a bit of a pain, he’d get too close to camp. (We are meant to scare them away, yelling, throwing rocks, etc. We’d do all of this but he had no fear) One day my co-worker and I were working inside a fish trap when just behind us in the river was this bear, my co-worker turned and yelled “get outta here Homeslice!” and he scurried away. A few summers later many different bears came and went. We name them all.”