Woody Boyd - a Real Yankee Doodle Dandy

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.

A Severe Case of Do Too Much-itis

 

Hi everyone, it's me, Dori *wavy paws*

Well, it's been another crazy week here at Casa Wonderpurr, the place where I live. The tempurratures here in our small beachside town are already stinking up the place at 90 degrees making my pawrents sweaty and crabby. Not a good combination, I assure yoo.

This month we have been in this house two years. Yes, time is flying like hungry owls circling our Catio. Daddy continues to find stuff to repair, and Momma continues to be extremely vocal about how this house is like living in a shoe box.

Yesterday Daddy found a screw in the tire to Momma's car. Of course all four tires now need to be replaced as the car is at a certain age where stuff happens. The inside also stinks like an angry cat. However as there have been no angry cats inside the car, it's anybody's guess as to how that smell is purrmeating the inside. Mom thinks maybe a stray cat sprayed under the hood cuz that's where Daddy tucks a bag of stinky mothballs to discourage Sassy Squirrel from hiding his nut stash. He did that during the winter and also chewed the insulation around the engine.

The Struggle is Real

Greetings to all of yoo who are still reeling from the aftermath of Monday. My best intentions to banish the Cujo of weekdays and replace it with Funday has sadly failed. 

Even my nemesis Wabbit tried his best to send the M-day packing, but it came back like an unscrupulous snollygoster who just won't go away.

Go ahead and Google that word. I'll wait.

Anyway, this morning at precisely one second after midnight, Tuesday safely arrived, so yoo can all simmer down and catch yoor breaths. There's no use worrying about the inevitable until Sunday anyway.

By now I had hoped to report the completion of the novel my momma is working on, but sadly she continues to struggle to find quiet time to allow her brain to function where words flow into sentences and sentences flow into paragraphs that actually make sense. I fear the struggle is real, especially when a certain AssWabbit has his floofy foot in her back and spends his days pressuring her to work.

A Window to Positivity

Welcome to Tuesdays with Dori. *wavy paws*

My Friends, I have a good feeling about today. Yes, I spend my days behind closed doors in my castle suite because there is a crazy Wabbit running amok who is determined to hunt me like prey, but I prefer to focus on the positives in my life.

Like enjoying a toasty sun puddle shining through my private window that overlooks a beautiful garden where deer nom Daddy’s hibiscus and cute bunnies dine on fruit and veggies left by Momma.

I think of my view as a Window to Positivity.

There is a saying: “What you think about, you bring about.”

Do you actually listen to what is going on in your mind? What do you spend the most time thinking about? 

Early to Bed

 

Hey, Pals. Rabbit here. I'm joining Feline Friday for the first time because I wanted to show off my new bed.

I'm a big boy, and Mom thought I looked cramped in the cat tree I used in my ZenDen. So she scoured the Facebook Marketplace and found a toddler's bed for sale. It is like new because the kid's school never had a sick kid to use it. 

This weekend Mom is headed to a yard sale to see if she can find a proper set of sheets and maybe a comforter. Meanwhile I've got a couple of blankets.

Time Travel to Blogpaws 2014 - Conclusion

 

Hi pals, it's me Herman TattleCat back with the conclusion of my Diary pages when I flew to Las Vegas for the 2014 Blogpaws conference.

You know, no matter how old we pets are, there is still time to surprise our pawrents. For instance when Mom mentioned to our vet that she was concerned about how well I would do mixing it up with other pets at this conference, especially dogs because we never had a dog in our house, the vet told Mom she thought I would do extremely well. She said when I was around dogs at the vet (behind the scenes type of stuff while getting treatments) I was always chill, not at all upset with the barking.