Hello to all my Furends. Welcome to another Tuesdays with Dori. I'm yoor host, Dori. *wavy paws* So this week my momma started taking pawtography lessons. She's had a nice camera for awhile, but has leaned too much on her iPhone to take our pikchures. Something about how, if she had to run and get her DSLR every time one of us struck a pose, every pikchure would be filed under "No Look Wednesday." While Momma is off learning about how to wurk her camera, and not depend on Auto... Daddy went off to sweat in the sun while playing swat ball with stick game.
Momma had every intention of helping me write my Tuesday column, but she had to take the loooong way home because there was a horry-bill accident on the freeway and twaffic was backed up for over ten miles and at least two hours, if not more. So now all she wants to do is take a nap. So, today's Tuesday column is a re-run of a Cat-toon from our old house where George and Gracie Geese visited with their babies last spring. We sure do miss seeing them. Now all we get at this house are deer doggos and huuuuge owls sitting in branches over our Catio, staring at ME with a hangry look in their eyes. I nearly peed my purrrple underpants the other day.
I had big plans for a nice week, but for some reason my game was off. It's not like I take enjoyment out of creating stress for my fursibs, but ... ya know... sometimes things happen. I can't help that I live with a bunch of overly sensitive, geriatric wusses. They were all once young and bouncy like me.
I have a Deep 'n Dark Confession to... um... confess.
Here it is, another #WickedCatWednesday, but it's getting kinda hard to keep up my AssRabbit image.
Hey, I know my Fans expect to see me jump on Dori's back and bite her neck. They expect me to steal noms from my geriatric fursibs, and they expect me to knock stuff off the counter. They expect me to have a total lack of impulse control, Livin la Vida Loca, AssRabbit style.
Welcome to another Tuesdays with Dori. I'm yoor host, Dori. *wavy paws*. I hope yoo all enjoyed a nice Independence Day weekend. At Wonderpurr Life, we posted a lot of social media giving hoomons a heads up about how fireworks can frighten not only pets, but also wildlife. Momma's sister lives on a lake, and she said before the weekend she had a lot of swans, and a lot of squirrels and birds around her home. But by the morning of July 4th... the lake was very quiet. The poor creatures fled! And her own pets were traumatized, even though she turned on the radio and teevee, and added calming essences to the air. There is nothing we can do about this. It's TRADITION to celebrate with fireworks, and hoomons will continue to do so forever. But, I also think that hoomons are now becoming aware of how us furs react to loud booms and loud bangs, and taking necessary measures to help us cope.
Hi evfurryone, time for another Tuesdays with Dori. It's me, Dori. *wavy paws*
So, last week I mentioned I had something rather exciting to meow about. But after what my momma did to her paw, what I'd planned to show you pales in comparison. So let me give you my report on the sordid details of what will live down in history at my house as BLOODY FRIDAY, and then I'll show yoo what I was hinting about last week.
So now that we have that gruesome piece of bizness out of the way, I want to tell yoo about Chevy and Nikolas' Man Cave.
When we lived at the house where I ... and evfurrybuddy else except Wabbit was borned, my daddy Nikolas and Uncle Chevy were always outside kittehs. And Uncle Jesse, too. Always outside because they were all a bit on the wild side, plus they started a Garage Band, so they'd be out caterwauling throughout the night.
But when we moved here to Flory-Da, because there are dangerous creatures like alligators and snakes and HUGE birds of prey, nobuddy is safe outside. Unfortunately that meant Chevy, Nik and Jesse had to become indoor cats. Not an easy transition because Chevy is still pretty feral, plus he's FIV+. And he once rolled Hwermie, so Mom says she won't trust him not to do that with me or my sisfurs. And daddy Nikolas likes to squirt his mancat juice on stuff. So they are not allowed even in Jesse's cat apartment.
The trouble has been with my pawrents worried about their mental health. How to keep them stimulated. Mom carries them to the Catio to have sunshine and smell the fresh air, but Nik doesn't like the Catio and immediately begs to go back to the garage. Chevy likes the Catio, but only while Momma is out there hanging with him. She takes him for walks in Mosey the stroller too. But my pawrents still didn't think that was enough.
They bought sod and created a grass pool in the garage, complete with sun lamp. And they brought in moving toys so the boys can hunt. Daddy made a cool box tunnel, and there is a radio playing. But it still isn't enough.
So then Daddy says, "Let's give them the old TV." They'd had a small one since 2006, and it was still working. Momma and Daddy are now into Roku, so setting up the TV in the garage was not a big deal. Daddy installed a shelf, and Mom insisted on putting stuff on either side so the boys couldn't get behind the TV and send it crashing to the floor.
And yoo know what? The minute the TV was on, and Momma set it to a Zen-like Aquarium channel, Chevy immediately settled into his cat tree right in front of it. And Nikolas seems to enjoy it too, although for some reason he won't lounge on the bench in front of the TV. But the soothing sound is nice for them all to enjoy.
Momma has been playing around with different channels, since the Aquarium channel can get kinda tedious. So she found more animal channels, and was thrilled when Chevy took a particular liking to a dog channel, watching the doggo's play and bark and run around like dog's tend to do.
So, while some may think it's crazy to give feral garage cats their own TV, it wouldn't be the first time deeply devoted cat pawrents like ours went to the extreme to provide mental enrichment for their fur kids.
