BATHROOM JAIL

Dear Diary, Today is the 21st. One month to my 4th birthday. It seems like yesterday when I arrived at my Forever Home, filled with all these gullible house cats. You would think after almost three years and eleven months they would have a clue about my sense of humor. Alas, compared to my superior Turkish Van DNA, their intelligence is right up there with field mice. Especially my precious little DoriDeer. She believes every word I say, and then goes running to Mom to blame me for tricking her. 

The Subject is Closet Space

 

Welcome to another Tuesdays with Dori. I'm yoor host, Dori. *wavy paws* 

Today I want to discuss Closet Space, or lack thereof. Let me say right up fwont, I do not purrsonally own a closet. Nor do I see actual need for closets. 

It is my opinion that closets are the Devil's invention, meant to inflict fwustwashun and anger issues by tempting hoomoms to be so sentimental about old stuff, that they cannot bear to let go, even long after it has ceased to spark joy. Not exactly a quote from Marie Kondo, but if yoo have overstuffed closets, then yoo get my point.

Before I go much further, let me first give yoo my Bweaking Nooz report.

BOX HOG

 Dear Diary, 

Why am I always made out to be the villain? Okay, so maybe I can be a bit more enthusiastic about life. I'm almost four, and every day is a new oppurrrtoo
nity for a great adventure.

Like today. Mom bought some cool triangle boxes. What a great idea! They felt amazing under my paws. Fresh and unique. Cool and comfortapurr.  All I wanted was to enjoy these new boxes, but then along comes Miss Bweaking Nooz repurrtor Dori, and next thing I know, my plans to enjoy these boxes turns into a big deal. 

I'm thinking Dori and the Gang make stuff a Big Deal just because I saw it first. Pffft!

The Subject is Penguins

 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.

Okay, on wif the show!

UNTIL NEXT TIME...

NO RESPECT FOR THIS ASSRABBIT

Dear Diary,

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.

The Softer Side of Rabbit

 

Dear Diary,

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.