Bloody Friday

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.

Hope yoo all enjoyed today's show.

Until next time...

Come Home Sawyer

 We at Wonderpurr Life have Janet and Tom and the Kitties Blue in our prayers that Sawyer returns from his unplanned adventure. This is a nightmare we have also had, so our hearts go out to the stress and worry they are experiencing. 

Rabbit Has a Nightmare

Dear Diary,

I recently had the worst nightmare ever. The reason why I'm even bothering to write about this is because... usually... I'm the nightmare someone else is writing about in their diary.

It all began after I'd enjoyed a particularly nice afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping... Opie hit a new decibel screaming cuz I'd dared to look at him. Seriously, the Ginger Wuss doesn't need anything more from me than a side glance to get his tiny tail all knotted with stress... which I actually take as a compliment. His hissy fit came on the heels of Dori complaining to Mom that she didn't appreciate me putting the bitey on her neck without first asking. 

Operation Grass Pool

Happy Tuesday, evfurryone! Well, Summertime 2021 is underway. We were at our old home this time last year, getting ready to move to Flory-Da. Now we are here, with a Wonderpurr Catio complete with two huge water bowls. Here, let me demonstrate for yoo:

This past week I overheard Momma telling Daddy that we needed something grassy to enjoy. I haven't touched paws on grass since before I was rescued at 3 months old. The first grass arrived as a  test plot to see if anybuddy would use it as a litter box. *shyly raises paw* Hey! I had to go!

But I'm so cuuute, my pawrents went ahead with Opurration Grass Pool. They bought a hoomon kiddo pool in the small size, and spread soil on it, and then laid a wedge of grass over it. Here in FloryDa the grass is harsh because it has to take intense heat. Momma bought some grass seed that would grow into a lush lawn, but Daddy took it back, saying we would roll in it, and the seed would never grow. He's probably right. Me and Momma are in agreement that Daddy is always...ALWAYS right, even when he's rong, cuz he's a men, and mens are nebber rong if yoo want them to do stuff like fill a kiddo pool with grass for yoor already spoiled cats.

Where was I?

Oh! Opurration Grass Pool. Here is me demonstrating how to use it:

Daddy thought fur sure I would use it as a litter box. Actually, I kinda wanted to -- hey, I dwink a lot of water cuz it's summertime and it's best to stay hi-dwated. But Momma watched and when I swatted, she said, "Dori. That's not yoor litter box, that's yoor grass pool." And I didn't widdle. I'm a good grrrl.

So the Grass Pool is a huge hit with all of my fur sibs.

Here are Opie, Peaches and K.C. nomming grass before bweakfast is served. Opie says grass is good ruff-age for digestion purrposes.

And here is Candy, demonstwating the lying on grass for relaxation. 

Yes, Wabbit  has played in the Grass Pool too, but this is Tuesdays with Dori, not Diary of an AssWabbit, so no pikchures of him allowed.

I can't wait for next Tuesday, because I have an exciting report about my daddy Nikolas, and his pal Chevy aka The Garage Band. After being outdoor cats their whole lives, they are now only allowed to be in the garage, and its very boring in there. Yes, they are offered Catio time, but Nikolas doesn't like the Catio and yowls to be let back into the garage, and Chevy will hang out with Momma in the Catio, but he mostly wants to get inside the house and explore. Chevy is not trustworthy because he's kinda feral, and strong and FIV+, plus Fwank wants to fight him, and Chevy wants to filet our resident AssWabbit. So Chevy is under strict supervision. Anyway! After a year of trying different ideas to entertain them in the garage, my pawrents finally knocked the ball out of the park. 

So, until next Time....

Writer Inpurr-rupted

Before Ray retired I knew I had from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. to get my blogging and writing done before he came home, but now it's a free for all where at any given moment he will pop in to my office to see if I'm hungry because he is (hint hint), or to let me know that one of the cats barfed cuz he heard it but isn't exactly sure where the barf is. He might need help doing something on his laptop because while Ray is fantastic at fixing stuff, he is clueless when it comes to anything techy. Or maybe he wants me to drop everything and film the snake-eating bird in our front yard. I know you're dying to see that video, so I will post it here with a slight warning: It's rated PG for ... you guessed it. Pretty Gross.

Celebrating Caffeine Candy

Five years ago on June 15th, Candy joined the Wonderpurr Gang. She arrived as a skinny year-old calico, brought to me by my beloved Noah, a beautiful, semi-feral yard panther who later brought us Elly before he passed from hidden illnesses.

Caffeine Candy got her nickname when she took to licking the Keurig nozzle after I made morning coffee. Thankfully she kicked the habit, and I no longer need to disinfect before I have my brew.

When Candy first joined our family, I could tell she had been homeless for awhile, but clearly she once knew the comforts of indoor living. She easily adapted to the resident members of the Gang, particularly Dori, who was thrilled to have a girlfriend near her age to play with. 

The first year with us flew by with little drama. Candy ate like a voracious dog, cleaning her plate, along with whatever crumbs she found on other plates. It didn't take long before the skinny girl filled out to the point where we started calling her Bootilicious. Indeed, she had an ample bottom.

Dori thrived having Candy as her gal pal. They slept together, chased and played with each other. Where you would see one, you'd see another. But then just seven months later, Noah returned with a tiny black yearling to my yard. It struck me that Noah understood that these girls needed a safe place from the other feral cats in the neighborhood, and that I would help them. So, Elly joined our family. It didn't

occur to me that Elly would cause a problem, as she was tiny and sweet, and had an easygoing personality. But Dori did not like her right from the start. Especially because Candy acted like she knew Elly, and they already had a tight bond. It was almost like a cat colony reunion between the two of them, and unfortunately Dori was the odd girl out. If there is one thing I've learned about Dori, she takes it pretty hard when she's not the apple of someone's eye, i.e. Candy, Herman, Frank. So after Elly joined us, Dori acted up a little, hissing at Elly as well as her former BFF Candy. Dori also holds a grudge, because to this day, she does not like Elly, and rarely allows Candy the privilege of giving her an ear bath.

Regardless, Candy was a delightful member of our household, an easy friend to all. Highly photogenic, I loved catching her in comfortable poses while she enjoyed a Wonderpurr Life as an indoor cat. I felt like she was an Old Soul, able to reassure everyone around her with an almost Zen-like calmness. That calmness came in handy when Blogpaws Kansas City arrived and I had plans for Dori to attend. From experience taking Dori to the vet where she would curl into a tight ball and the vet would have to use an impressive amount of strength to pry her legs from her body, I knew she would spend the week frightened and miserable. Enter Candy. Like a goat soothing a thoroughbred race horse, Candy would ease Dori's fears.                                                                                                                                              Sure enough, Dori did well during the drive from Memphis to Kansas City, but once we entered the hotel room, she found a way to squeeze between the bed and wall, and that's where she stayed for a couple days. Meanwhile I had dozens of people asking me where Dori was. I felt nekked not having a cat to push around in a stroller. After all, Herman had attended Blogpaws several times before I gave him permission to retire. The final Blogpaws we went to in Myrtle Beach, he clearly was miserable and preferred to be left in the hotel room.

Anyway, I put Candy in the stroller, and pushed her around the Brands Hall. I even unzipped the stroller, and she crawled out to explore Kate Benjamin's Cat Lounge. I was very surprised by how at-ease she was meeting strangers. I recall her gaze sweeping the room, her head turning this way and that as she took in the dogs, the sights, the smells, and the number of people who stopped to say hello and pet her. She took everything in stride. I was so very proud of her. In fact, I really wanted to take her to the final day breakfast, but Dori still had not made an appearance, so Candy was left in the room, and Dori was taken to the breakfast. And like her performances at the vet, she curled into a tight ball and glowered at everyone from safely under the blankets.

Shortly before we moved from Memphis to Florida, I adopted the sad tabby who had sheltered in my yard for a couple years, always leaving before I had a chance to reassure I wouldn't harm him. It took a raccoon named Honeybear that he had befriended to convince him that I was okay. Seriously, I'd watched him for months try to rub up against my raccoons, who all graciously did not rip him to shreds. It was evident the tabby had lots of love to give, but no one to give it to. I so wanted to adopt him, but it took me all winter to coax him into not running when I stepped outside to feed him. Long story short, after I brought K.C. indoors, Candy claimed him. She told him he would be her boyfriend, and he certainly didn't argue. Their romance caught fire and has yet to burn out.

They became so close, so fast, that I ultimately realized that Candy had not known Elly previous to joining our household. This was just Candy's nature. She has a huge heart, and wants to reassure those around her that they should relax and enjoy being Rescued. Kevin Coopurr aka K.C. definitely benefitted from having Candy take him under her Zen-like influence. He easily transitioned from a stray with numerous fears and hang-ups, to a joyful, chill kind-of-guy that all the Wonderpurr girls fell in love with. Even Dori. I put my bonded Romeo and Juliet together in the same carrier when we moved to Florida, and of all the cats, Candy and K.C. were the least traumatized. Upon leaving their carrier, they walked around the house like newlyweds, picking out the places they would set up housekeeping.

A year after moving to Florida, Candy is loving life, with whatever memories she may have had of her past existence as a scrawny stray far behind her. She sleeps curled up each night in K.C.'s arms, and lounges on the Catio with her beloved never far from her side. While all of the Wonderpurr Gang has embraced Candy, it is clear to me that K.C. has been the ultimate benefactor of whatever nucleus of calm acceptance Candy possesses. I only recently came to the realization that I may have physically brought K.C. in out of the cold, but it was Candy who actually rescued him from his traumatized life. To put it simply: he adores her with every cell in his being.

       

I can't believe it's only been five years since I brought Candy into my home. I feel like she's been here forever. And while some of my cats make even a year seem like Forever (looking at you AssRabbit) with Candy, I pray that she continues to enjoy a long and healthy existence, because I cannot imagine Life without her.

Happy Birthday, Caffeine Candy. We all feel Blessed to know you.