ChauncieMarie, the
French matriarch of the Wonderpurr Gang, who epitomized a joyous, exuberant and
stylish influence over her adopted bourgeois family, has died. While she
preferred to keep her age a mystery, it is believed she was eight months shy of
celebrating her 20th anniversaire.
Though not inclined
to speak of her past, a surprise dinner of mackerel to celebrate her tenth year
with her forever family had her reminiscing about how she’d once been filled
with too much joie de vivre that led her into the arms of a handsome but
homeless rogue by the name of LePark.
Without going into detail, she’d survived
by begging and stealing, until she found mercy from a family who gave her a
small cardboard pied-à-terre. The family called her Chauncy, thinking she was a
boy – a rather fat boy as by then she was clearly enceinte with twin girls.
Though grateful to them for saving her life, she knew she could not stay,
especially when they allowed their little boys to name her daughters Bucket and
Barney. Quelle horreur!
Freshly arrived at what would become her Forever Home, ChauncieMarie loved shoes, especially Christian Louboutin. Sadly, her new family preferred cheap rubber flipflops. Zut alors!
When her petites
filles were on their way to becoming young ladies, albeit little heathens as
they loved to hunt mice in the adjacent field (clearly, they’d inherited their
father’s proletariat DNA) the mysterious French girl Chauncy bid them adieu and
set out to make a better life for herself. She did not have to go far. The
chateau across the road recognized her as a well-heeled aristocrat with a
mysterious past and changed her name to ChauncieMarie.
Struck that her
adopted family desperately needed refinement, ChauncieMarie flicked back her
left ear in what would become her trademark display of cultured elegance ala a
feathery fascinator and went to work. For the next seventeen years she taught
us that each day is a gift to celebrate, no matter what maladies plague your
aging body. She loved her brothers and sisters without judgment, and upon
retiring to Florida, spent her final years basking in sunshine.
On June 11TH,
upon murmuring ‘Une vie honorable es tune vie éternelle’ – An honorable life is
an eternal life - ChauncieMarie gained her heavenly wings. She is deeply
missed.
We lost Jack a year ago today to cancer. He was one of the lesser-known members of the Wonderpurr Gang due to a head trauma he'd received when he was about two.
He had been born under a neighbor's deck to Peaches, but when the neighbor boarded the entrance she brought Jack and Jesse to my yard where they lived happily every after... until someone struck Jack with enough force to send him missing for almost three weeks. When he returned he was walking in circles.
I took him to the vet where he stayed for a month. When he came home I could no longer pick him up. He had been severely traumatized, something he never recovered from. He turned feral with a huge dose of mistrust for all people including me that lasted until his dying breath.
Only a year apart, they were inseparable. Where you saw Opie, Jack was nearby. They literally slept wrapped around each other for most of their lives, especially during their golden years.
Sadly we lost Jack last year to cancer. He was a special boy having been born under a neighbor's deck to Peaches. Jesse was Jack's littermate but because Jesse remained a garage cat (due to unprovoked spraying), the brothers didn't see each other for many years.
October 31, 2010. The day my nightmare as a Cat Mom came true.
Up front let me say, I have gone around in circles on whether or not to post this, mostly because I have strived to publish nothing but happy cat humor across all my social media accounts. However, my experience as a cat rescuer sometimes hands me lessons that have sad endings, and yet they provide me with an insight on what to watch for with future rescues.
Kenny was one of those sad lessons that I continue to ache over, even twelve years later. This is his story.
Celebrating the memory of the incredible Woody Boyd, a cockatiel born on the Fourth of July 1987.In hindsight I should have called him Yankee Doodle.
We adopted Woody from a not-professional breeder cuz we were young n stoopid. But he was so sweet and incredibly smart.
He came to live with us maybe around 12 weeks of age. I had him saying his first word inside a week: Pretty. Which morphed into Pretty Pretty Pretty which morphed into Pretty Boy.
He learned his name. He called himself Woodo. “Hello Woodo” he would say into a mirror.
I recall saying “I don’t believe it” to him. He flew to my shoulder and pressed his beak to my mouth, his way of wanting to learn. He picked up that phrase incredibly fast and used it a lot.
This morning around 4 am I was shocked and delighted to see Mom thrust Frank into my ZenDen with me.
As Frank tells it, he had a strong urge to harass Jesse the Toothless Wonder, and chased the dude up over the refrigerator into the loft. There Jesse screamed like a Drama Queen.
Side note: although not having a single tooth in his mouth, his scream carries amazingly strong throughout the house, and directly into Mom's ears, despite her being relatively comatose.
I later overheard Mom tell Dadders that she'd spent the worst night ever, what with Peaches insisting on draping herself over her legs, and Dori sitting beside her head, tickling her with her whiskers, licking her face, and wiping her wet nose on her cheek. So when Jesse screamed "HAAALP," that was the final straw.
Pete Cusack, one of my favorite Cat Dads, passed over the Rainbow Bridge on November 20, 2021. Today, January 31st, would have been his 69th birthday. This post is a tribute to Pete's genuine love of all things feline.
I always looked forward to Tuesdays with Tim. Timmy Tomcat was the Face and Meow over at Tomcat Commentary by Tim. When I got the heartbreaking news that Pete Cusack had passed away, it truly hurt my heart to know I'd never again read one of his funny blog posts. He had such heart and love for his cats, and honestly for everyone else's cats too. Just read the side bars of his TomCat Commentary by Tim blog and you will agree, he celebrated every cat friend he ever made.
I always looked forward to Tuesdays with Tim. Timmy Tomcat was the Face and Meow over at Tomcat Commentary by Tim. Yesterday I got the heartbreaking news that his daddy, Pete Cusack, had passed away on November 20th. And it does hurt my heart to know I'll never again read one of his funny blog posts. He had such heart and love for his cats. His blog now stands as a testimonial for us to remember him by.
That last thought stuck in my head yesterday, thinking about how, at any given time, I could pass and leave behind not only eleventy-billion cats, but also my blog as a remembrance to my life here among the cat bloggers. I know of several cat bloggers who have passed, and yes from time to time I return to remind myself that a single post can live in the hearts of those who knew me, albeit via the blogger world.
Hi everyone, this is Herman!!! coming out of retirement to pay tribute to my bestie, Sadie, the sisfur of my other bestie, Phi.
When I first joined the Anipals, Phi was one of the very first to welcome me. We clicked as besties pretty fast, despite her being a doggo and me being a kitteh. That’s what I loved about being an Anipal. Species didn’t matter. Heart did. And boy, those Anipals had a lot of heart. I made so many many many furends over the years, but Phi and me, we just completed each other.
Hi, this is Dori *wavy paws* My bestest doggy boyfurend, Chazz the Dog 1, went Over the Rainbow Bridge on July 19th and bwoke my little heart. It's taken me this much time to write a Tribute to Chazz. His mommy and my mommy are bestest furends, and we love Chazz's Aunt Athena too.
Minutes after Chazz went to heaven, Aunt Barbara called my mommy to share the sad news. We grieve with her because Chazz has been much loved by us starting way back to 2011 when my big brofur Hwermie invited Chazz to sing in the Christmas choir. Chazz told Hwermie that he was Jewish. Hwermie said that's great. We will sing Chanukah songs too, and my momma made Chazz an avatar for the concert.
This past Sunday Momma Kat lost her beloved Bear Cat.
To those outside of the Anipal community, Bear was "just a cat." I'm blessed to be on the inside of that ridiculous notion. I know, like everyone reading this post, that Bear was more than just a cat. He was Katherine's everything. He changed her life, and gave her back her sense of well-being, just by being there for her.
For those who build their social media around one predominant fur kid, losing that kid knocks the breathe out of you. Katherine herself said how she now feels like she's lost her identity with Bear's passing.
It's understandable. For me, I started building my social media around Herman TattleCat, never once contemplating what TattleCat would be once he passed. As he aged, tolerating camera intrusion less and less, I leave him be. And therefore, TattleCat's social media with 12,000+ has faded into a shell of what it once was.
Of course I have lots of cats to take his place, but NO ONE can ever take Herman's place. He is one of a kind. And so, with Herman in retirement, I struggle to find my voice. I knew the voice of Herman!!! (he never goes anywhere without his 3 exclamation points). Just like I know the voice of Dori and Rabbit (God help me). Herman has always been sweet and soft, as opposed to brash and unashamed of being naughty, and I miss posting current photos of him. And when his time comes, I will not announce it to the world. He is in retirement ... for good.
Losing Herman, like Katherine lost Bear, hits me in the heart unlike the other cats I've lost. Yes, there have been many before him who could have easily hit high social media numbers because they were truly awesome. But Herm is exceptional. Half Turkish Van, half Angora, his round head, round intelligent eyes, and tiny body reach deep into my soul and have never let go since the day I found him. We bonded instantly, like Love at First Sight. It's that connection, like an addiction, that makes losing him agonizing to even think about. And that's why I choose not to share his passing with the world. I will grieve in private. I cannot bear to see his name on a rock during the Tribute Rides, nor announced every year on his Angleversary. To me that's like ripping the scab off a horrific wound, Every. Single. Year. I'm told many people take comfort in the celebration of Angelversaries. I am not one of them.
It is my opinion that by sharing our fur kids with the World elevates them into another realm. They become 3D; larger than LIFE. I saw for myself the way people reacted when they met Herman at Blogpaws. I have a photo of women surrounding Herm in Mosey, his stroller. He even got mobbed in the hotel bathroom! Herm took the adoration of his fans in stride, sitting patiently while they took his photo, often posing with him. At his first Blogpaws in Vegas a group of Japanese tourists surrounded him, on their knees, excited to be taking pictures of "TattleCat," like he was Harrison Furred, David Meowie, Catrick Swayze, or The Cat Formerly Known as Purrince.
The fur kids have no idea what all the fuss is about, but their manager moms and dads sure do. So when we lose them, we do experience a particularly heartbreaking realization that it's all over. We all cried when Debbie lost her Katie, but luckily we had our love for Waffles who was ready to step forward. Cathrine had her B-Team when Bionic Basil passed. Jacqui lost Eric and Flynn, but turned her blog into a celebration of their lives. I'm confidant in time Katherine will find her footing and do the same with Ellie.
Herman's TattleCat account will soon undergo a change, featuring him in retirement, enjoying such recreations as lawn bowling, fishing, croquet and boating with his beloved wife, Belle. I have allowed Rabbit to successfully dominate Instagram with his notorious, unashamed naughtiness, and soon will bring him forward on Twitter to bump tails with the other Bad Boys of Twitter.
I asked Dori if she wanted to take over Herman's account with his high numbers, but she said she is satisfied to have a small group of close furends, and doesn't like the spotlight shining too brightly on her. I'm not surprised considering she spent her only Blogpaws appearance reporting LIVE from under the bed and behind the bath towels.
Since Herman went into retirement, I have struggled to find the spark I once had when blogging and tweeting. I cherish my memories of those fresh fun days when the Anipals were young and vibrant, and we had to deal with indecent spammers infiltrating our Twitter pawties. We set up Jail Accounts because we would tweet fast and furious, and Twitter would put us in Jail for an undetermined amount of time to cool us down, especially at charity fund raising pawties. At the Anipal Prom, Herman went to jail five times. He set a record that night.
And the Anipal Weddings... Herman and Belle had the largest wedding party Dana Pixie ever made. The wedding and reception trended Number One on Twitter.
Afterward, Dana recruited me to join the AWP helping her to make the scenes, which was an eye-opening experience. But that was yesterday, and living in the past ain't my thang.
My heart goes out to Katherine during these first days and weeks following Bear's passing. She in particular shared so much of herself through Bear. I got to hang out with Katherine in person at three Blogpaws, in fact stepping out of an elevator and directly into her arms! Always felt like I was reconnecting with a dear dear friend. I will never forget how she wanted to meet Dori so bad, but Dori was in seclusion until the very last day when I dragged her out for breakfast. Kat had just sat down to eat when I casually mentioned Dori was here. Kat said, "Screw breakfast," and ran to kneel beside my darling fraidy cat and fawn over her.
I send Katherine, Ellie and The Boy my sincere condolences, and to Kat in particular my love and support while she searches to find her new voice. Her New Normal. It's necessary. We cannot survive living in the past. We are born to live, and born to die. And everything in between is a series of events meant to live and learn.
In 2012 I lost my beloved cats, Nicholas and Cookie, to severe mold in the
air handlers of my home. Nicholas could not breathe through his nose, only his mouth. His face had
swollen due to the severe amount of pus inside his head. I took him to several veterinarians, and none of them could figure out what was wrong. After he was euthanized
on February 20, 2012, Cookie also came down with the mysterious illness. I took him to yet another vet. This time she opened his mouth and said we had mold in our home. The vibrant redness inside Cookie's mouth told her that. Regardless, it was too late and on on November 6, 2012, Cookie was euthanized. This is what Nicholas and Cookie
looked like twelve months before mold entered our home and took their lives:
Once the veterinarian said MOLD I went into action by calling in a duct cleaning company to scour our air handlers and ducts. They also released live bacteria that would eat the mold. This was a very expensive process and it took all day for our home vents to be disinfected, but there was no choice.
It didn’t occur to me to
have our home rechecked until the summer of 2015 when Dori and Peaches both came
down with “colds from hell.” I too was suffering from the effect of mold. Turns
out I’m highly allergic to it. In 2012 I was continually foggy-brained, and
aching in every joint. I wanted to sleep all the time, which is highly unlike me.
The foggy-brained part is what kept me from recognizing my symptoms again in
2015. It took Dori giving an eerily familiar cough that reminded me of Cookie
that had me running the girls to the vet, and calling in the same company as in
2012 to check my air handlers.
The mold was back, and this time it was Terminator Mold. It was back, it was badder, and hell bent on destroying everyone in the house. But instead of
cleaning like they did in 2012, this time the crew was more investigative
as to WHY we had mold. This time they discovered the duct tape around the mains had
softened and pulled apart, allowing attic debris into the blowers (I always
wondered why I had so damn much dust). They also found the seams were allowing
cold air to seep out, creating dampness.
Mold thrives on Darkness, Warmth,
Oxygen, and Moisture.
It appears we had won the Mold
Lottery.
Mold in the ceiling air ducts.
Mold on the insulation wrapping the
mains.
Filters are changed every month. We
thought they were dirty. We didn't realize the dirt was mold.
To destroy the mold, the company we
called vacuumed every duct . It took hours -- all day in fact -- and was
horrifically noisy. But it had to be done.
Every duct was also cleaned with a
bleach solvent.
Then the mains had to be resealed
using duct butter that hardened like plastic.
Despite the hot attic temperature,
the duct butter will not melt and allow moisture into the ducts. We had two air handlers. In each a UV
light was installed. Mold cannot grow under UV lighted conditions.
Thankfully, there was a
Happy Ending. Peaches and Dori were saved.
Don't think mold can't happen to you. Mold is more rampant than I ever
believed possible. Our home was 7 years old when we had mold in 2012. I read
that mold is more prevalent in newer homes due to construction rush. Duct tape
isn't good enough to seal your air handlers. Make sure its duct butter, and
before you buy, have your home inspected.
On January 2, 2016 my beloved Pwince Honeysmoochies -
@HRMeownessWills - went Over the Rainbow Bridge. I didn't see it coming. I wish
Wills had let me know that his sweet heart was giving out... But I guess
sometimes things like that are very private. He didn't want to worry me. Wills was my Night in Shiny Armpurr. We met through
our mew-tual furend @ArcherPaws. For our first date Wills escorted me to a
wedding in Scotland.
