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Tuesdays with Dori: 8 Epic Valentine Gift Failures
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#SundaySelfie Celebrates Chauncie Marie
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Happy Umbrella Day
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Tuesdays With Dori: How to Foil A Faker
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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Conclusion

Tuesdays with Dori: 8 Epic Valentine Gift Failures

Hi Furends! This is Dori *wavy paws* welcoming yoo back to another episode of Tuesdays with Dori.

Did yoo know that 54.7% of U.S. adults plan on celebrating Valentine’s Day this year by buying gifts for their significant others, friends or pets? Their total planned spending is estimated to reach $19.6 billion, up from $18.2 billion in 2017.

With hoomons spending so much on gifts, I thought I’d pwesent my picks for 8 Epic Valentine Gift Failures by Hoomons.

Let’s begin with Epic Failure #8: Dinner at White Castle

 

Even I know this is a bad choice. Have yoo any idea of what them noms do to yoor digestive system? How can yoo expect to get womantical after eating a dozen of them nasty little boogers?

Epic Failure #7: Bake It Yoorself Cake

Hoomons! Valentine’s Day is no time to pwactice yoor baking skillz. Plan ahead. Better yet. Hire a pwofessional. Read More

#SundaySelfie Celebrates Chauncie Marie

This week’s Sunday Selfie honors Chauncie Marie who celebrates her 11th Gotcha Day with our family.

Chauncie Marie was called Chauncey by our neighbors until she gave birth. Then they realized she was a girl. Quickly realizing she wasn’t cut out for motherhood, Chauncey decided to move across the street to our house. There she discovered she was French and her name was changed to Chauncie Marie. That was in 2007. When a vacancy came up, Chauncie Marie moved indoors and has been happily a member of the Wonderpurr Gang ever since.

Chauncie Marie is shy, but affectionate. She loves being brushed by our Groom Genie. She enjoys her bed atop the kitchen cupboards. She’s also a shoe aficionado — has never met a shoe she doesn’t enjoy smelling!

We love you Chauncie Marie! Happy Gotcha Day!

Happy Umbrella Day

Herman: Happy Umbrella Day, Dori!

Dori: I’m not feeling so happy. Purrsonally, umbwellas scare me. One minute they’re narrow and behaving themselves… The next, they fling open their moufs and puff up like a Persian having a hissy fit.

Herman: Our meowmy always says in order to get over our fears, we first must understand what we fear.

Dori: I’m okay not getting over my fear.

Herman: I’m not asking you to get warm and fuzzy with an umbrella. But if you learn things about them, maybe they won’t seem so scary.

Dori: Yoo said that about Daddy snoring. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Herman: Look! I’ve booted up Mom’s laptop and asked Doktor Google about umbrellas. Read the first line. Read More

Tuesdays With Dori: How to Foil A Faker

Hi Furends! This is Dori *wavy paws* welcoming yoo to the first post in my new column: Tuesdays with Dori. I’m very excited to have this oppawtunity to share with yoo my world views, and my tips on evfurryday living. I might even intermew someone. Yoo never know. The world is my oyster!

The other day I was shredding an old AARP magazine when I spied an article about how 85% of hoomons are confident they can spot an imposter, but the majority flunk an Imposter IQ quiz. Fwankly, I’m worried.

These hoomons are responsible for keeping us in the luxury of which we are accustomed to. If they get swindled by con artists, they will have less to spend on us.

I consider it my pawblic doody to inform yoo of nefarious ways these fakers are taking advantage of our doddering hoomons, so yoo can be on the look out and stop the fakers before they steal the treats right out of your moufs!

Here are ways AARP says our hoomons are being fooled by fakers. (I’ve shredded the magazine so I’m pawraphrazing here.)

Jury Doody

Official Sounding Faker: “This is Judge Judy Wapner calling from the county courthouse. You’ve missed jury doody. Either pay $300 now, or go to prison.”

Our Doddering Hoomon: “Gosh! I don’t want to go to prison. Here’s my credit card, my Social Security Number and the password to my online bank account.” Read More

Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Conclusion

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective – Part 9

“What’s the Chewy.com box for?” I asked Dori.

“Wemember when I asked if yoo knew where babies come from? Yoo said storks. But I knew better. Yes, storks are involved, but they deliver babies that come from Chewy.com.”

“But what does a Chewy box have to do with getting me home?”

Dori assembled the cardboard into it’s box shape. “Simple, Hwermie. Yoo get into the box, and I bwing yoo home.”

“But Mosey moves away when I approach him.”

Dori gestured to the box. “Get in.”

I tried to hop inside, but the damp, soggy English weather had seeped into my old bones and I struggled. Finally Dori tipped the box on its side, I walked in, and she flipped the lid closed. I heard her ask Mrs. Gray for help. I felt the box leave the floor, but then I was jiggled around as Mrs. Gray chased after Mosey.

She finally placed the box on the floor and I rolled out. “It’s not going to work, Dori.”

Instead of tears I saw determination on my little sisfur’s pretty face. “It’s going to work, Hwermie. I’m gonna get yoo home. Or I’m staying here with yoo. Yoor my brofur and bestest furend. I’m never gonna leave yoo.”

And now…

The Conclusion.

At the time her words gave me hope. An hour later they resounded through my hot brain like a vicious threat.

Attempt #2

“Hide inside the box,” Dori directed. “Act distwacted. Look the other way. Whistle for Mosey to appwoch yoo.”

Mosey tripped all over himself trying to race from the room.

Note to self: Learn to whistle.

Attempt #3

“Get on the chair,” Dori told me. “Then jump into the box.”

To preserve my dignity, I refused to give purrrmission to publish the photo of me sprawled on my floofy ass.

“I’m never gonna leave yoo.” An hour later Dori's words resounded through my hot brain like a vicious threat. Click To Tweet

Attempt #4

“Slide down the wope into the Chewy box,” Dori told me.

Even Fergus had his doubts this would work, and he was right.

Attempt #5

“Don’t get discouwaged, Hwermie! This next idea is sure to work.”

As you can see…it did not.

Attempt #6

After Dori insisted we load the Chewy box with heavy rocks to stop Mosey from moving…it worked!

Except for one minor flaw…

Attempt #7

“Cwouch down inside the box,” Dori told me. “Pwetend yoo awen’t there.”

Ohhh-kay!

She then crawled on top of my shoulders. “Look Mosey! It’s me, Dori! *wavy paws* Hwermie is not inside the box. Yoo can come closer so we can put the box inside yoo!”

Isn’t she precious?

Attempt #8

I deserve each an every ache, pain and bruise for going through with her Catapult idea.

Please bow your heads in memory of my dignity.

Attempt #9

“I pwomise this is going to work,” Dori told me. Her eyes were wide with a hint of manic determination, and her voice carried a note of hysteria. “All we have to do is shoot yoo from a canon into the box, and then jump on the box and shut it before Mosey can move.”

“We don’t have a canon,” I pointed out.

“Actually,” Fergus spoke up. “I do.”

Three hours later I awoke in Fergus’s bed in front of a cozy fire. The aroma of roast turkey filled the air. I followed the scent to the kitchen to see Dori, Fergus and Mrs. Gray in deep discussion. They quickly filled a plate for me and let me in on Dori’s next hare-brained scheme to get me home.

“There’s a steamer ship leaving for Ameowica in the morning, and yoor gonna be on it.”

A steamer ship! Wow!

I envisoned myself aboard a luxury liner. Not First Class, of course. That was reserved for celebrities like the Unsinkable Molly Brown and Rose DeWitt Bukater. Probably second class. Might even have to share a room with a stranger. But that was okay. I get along with everyone!

I would socialize with those poor saps on the third class level. Maybe even steerage. I’d sneak them some spring lamb with mint sauce and grilled ox kidneys with bacon cuz their menu would consist of gruel, cabinet biscuits and cheese.

At night under the cloak of darkness I’d slick back my floofy tail and head up to First Class deck where I’d stay in the shadows while watching the passengers parade arm in arm, chatting about how rich they were.

Maybe… Maybe I’d catch the eye of a beautiful rich girl trying to escape her boorish boyfriend and we would fall in love. She would love me because I’m handsome and have a healthy social media following…although I’d probably have to explain social media to her. And she’d get all swoony over me being so smart ‘n stuff.

Mrs. Gray snapped her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. Well, I was stuck in 1894, so the present of the year I was physically in.

She said, “We could only scrape together a few pounds so you will be traveling in the cargo hold.”

“Inside the Chewy box,” Fergus added.

Ah yes. The Chewy.com box. Then a thought occurred to me. “Dori, we are in 1894. A steamer ship isn’t magical like Mosey. If you ship me to Ameowica, I will arrive…still in 1894.”

“Actually,” said Fergus, “you will arrive in 1895. It’s December 8th. We couldn’t afford to ship you on one of them fancy new super steamers that arrive in nine days. Sorry. You won’t arrive until January.”

“Possibly February,” Mrs. Gray added.

“January? February!” My heart somersaulted. “I’ll be inside the Chewy box for weeks? I’ll starve. And I’ll miss Christmas!”

“No worries,” said Mrs. Gray. “I’ve fixed you a splendid turkey with all the trimmings. That should tide you over if you don’t make a piggy of yourself. And I’ve made you a scarf to keep you warm. Consider it a Christmas present.”

“Did yoo make me one too?” my little sisfur wondered, eying the pink scarf with envy.

“Dori! I’m not getting into that box and letting you ship me to Ameowica 1895.” My heart ached with sadness. “I’m stuck here. I’ll never get home. I’ll never see Mom again. I’ll never help her write another novel. Without me as her mews, she will dry up creatively and have to go get a real job. She’s been out of the workplace for too many years. She’s only qualified to say ‘Welcome to Meijers,’ or ‘Do you want fries with your burger?’ So sad!”

“Hwermie! Listen to me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll never solve another purranormal mystery,” I lamented. “Not that I actually solved anything cuz I suck at detecting. But I had that cool office in the attic. Dad will probably chop up my desk for firewood and Mom will toss my Bakelite telephone and snake-necked lamp into the Recycle bin…”

“Hwermie! Yoo have nuffin’ to fear. I’m gonna get yoo home.”

“You can live with us,” said Fergus. “My master will be thrilled to meet you. You can’t be his writer’s muse, of course. That’s my job. But…” He looked at Mrs. Gray who said, “You can help me in the kitchen. You can be my cooking muse.”

They were trying hard to make me feel better, but my heart wasn’t in it. For all intents and purrposes…I was homeless.

Dori got in my face, took my whiskers in her paws and glared at me. “Yoo snap outta it, Mister! No feeling despurrate and discouwaged. Twust me. I know what I’m doing.”

She pointed to the box on the floor. “That isn’t an owdinawy box, Hwermie. It’s a Chewy.com box. Magical stuff happens to whatever is inside. Plus they have most excellent customer service. If yoo go missing, they will twack yoo down. Or weplace yoo. Customer satisfaction guawanteed!”

I covered my face with my paws. I didn’t have a choice. It was either trust Dori and her crazy idea about Chewy.com’s box getting me back home to Mom, Dad and my W.A.D. team, or live out my remaining years with the murderous Doyle who killed off my hero, Sherlock Holmes.

I crawled into the box. Fergus dragged his comfy bed from the fireplace to cushion the bottom. Mrs. Gray added the roast turkey with trimmings. Dori reluctantly returned my pink scarf.

I stared into Dori’s wide eyes, maybe for the last time. A lot of magical stuff had happened to me since Dori and I opened the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. But did I believe her latest crazy scheme would work? That the Chewy.com box possessed enough magic to time travel me back to the 21st Century? Not really.

“We had some good times together,” I told her, forcing a wide smile. When she stepped back with flattened ears, I laughed with sincerity. “I’m okay doing this, honey. Whatever happens, it’s meant to be.”

She placed her paws on the side of the box and nuzzled my whiskers. “Yoo gonna be awright, Hwermie. Don’t be fwightened. Twust me.” She licked my nose, and then Mrs. Gray secured the lid.

I could smell Dori through the right side of the box. “I love you, honey,” I told her. “You will always be my bestest friend.”

“This isn’t goodbye, Hwermie. Twust me. Everything is gonna be aw-wight.”

“Meowy Christmas!” I called out as I felt the box rise into the air. Soon the chill of the damp English weather seeped into my bones. I wrapped the pink scarf around my neck and hunkered down on Fergus’s bed. Nibbling the roasted turkey helped to warm my belly. It was crispy with delicious seasoning. But then I recalled Mrs. Gray telling me not to be a piggy. It had to last me through to January…maybe even February!

Soon the sounds and smells of the docks seeped through the cardboard. Eventually silence surrounded me and the only movement was a gentle swaying that told me I was at last at sea.

Hi Pals! Thanks everyone for following my Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries. I know this might not be the Conclusion you were expecting, but we seek to entertain and keep you guessing as to what will happen next. In this case, an all new Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries is coming with big changes, but you will have to read Sherlock Herms in Back to the Future to find out what they are. Like Dori says… “Twust me.”

CHECK OUT THE SHERLOCK HERMS CASE ARCHIVES FOR MORE MYSTERIES

and my W.A.D. team

and our typist and meowmy…

If you like what you’re reading, here are more stories by Kimberley Koz and Herman, her mews:

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