He Who Must Not Be Tolerated

 

Hello Frens, this is Dori. *wavy paws*

Today is Tuesday, and I'm feeling distwessed.

First of all, I hope yoo are experiencing fresh air and sunshine now that Spring has sprung.

At my house Daddy purrchased flowers in blue and yellow and pink to brighten up our front porch. Those are Momma's favorite colors, and make her happy. Daddy says if color makes Momma happy, then by gosh he's going to buy every blue, yellow and pink colored flower he can find.

Now that I've got the pleasantries out of the way, back to me feeling distwessed.

Yoo see, because of the restwaining odor I have against He Who Must Not Be Tolerated, I am locked in my castle suite while he runs amok throughout the house. This is not fair. It should be HWMNBT locked up all day while I run amok. However, there's a rumor going around that he had a Freedom During the Day clause put into his adoption contwact.

This amokness is wearing down my pawrents because I hear screams of outrage coming from those not locked in my castle suite with me. Usually Fwank.

I tell Fwank to use his training as a lethal street thug on AssWabbit and shiv him, but Fwank says Momma won't allow him to use his claws. So sad.

I love my momma dearly, but as she clearly does not have the situation under control, I must remain on lockdown . And with the majority of my fursibs sharing my suite, I am in danger of losing sleeping rights to my cozy kitteh cottage, given to me by Santa Claus.

I love my cozy kitteh cottage with it's foot-and-a-half-high ceiling, woomy interior, kitchenette and central air. It has not only a door but also a window. During the winter I had a lovely fur rug, but now in the spring the rug is replaced with a Tempurr Pedic mattwess. Purrfect for me to welax on.

However, evfurrybody wants it. 

Including me!

But I can't get into it because after bweakfast there is a mad rush for the bedwoom. 

Just this morning I saw chunky butt Opie hip-check sweet KC aside to grab my cottage. However, Opie forgot he had to pee, and when he left, KC grabbed my cottage for himself. 

And when I do get to my cottage first, I have to deal with remnants of the last purrson who used it. Yesterday it was Peaches, who has the gross habit of sneezing thick boogies into the walls.

Momma did order more cottages, but they are different and my cottage is still the numpurr one favorite.

There is no solution to my predicament, sad to say. But I strongly urge yoo to write to yoor congwessman to ask them to file an amendment to Turkish Van adoption contracts, section IV, paragwaph 8 where it stipulates these ruthless purrveyors of anguish and destwuction must be given freedom during the day, and plead with them to change it to No Freedom During the Day.

I wepeat: NO Freedom During the Day.

If yoo do, yoo will forever have my sincere gratitude.

Sincerely,

Dori

Until Next Time...

Seek First to Understand

 Dear Diary – While lounging in my momanager’s lap this weekend, I demanded she pay attention to me instead of the book she was reading. She told me, “After I finish this chapter about Seek First to Understand.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Essentially, it implies that you become more interested in understanding others, and less in having other people understand you. If you want fulfilling communication that benefits you and others, understanding others must come first.”

To which I replied…

“Pffft! I’m a cat. I’m all about me.”

“And that is why communication between us seems to be one constant battle. When you try to be understood before you understand, communication will break down, and may end up becoming a battle of two egos.”

“I don’t have an ego,” I told her with smug self-righteousness. “I’m an expensive purebred. I’ve got blue ribbon winners in my bloodline. I’m always right, and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me because I’m purrfect. What’s an ego?”

“You’re a living, breathing caricature of an ego, little buddy.”

“So proud.”

“The world right now is in turmoil. No one is trying to understand one another. People are lashing out in fear and frustration. Even if their own lives are not touched by tragedy, they are unconsciously reacting to what they see on the news by being short and angry with others, including strangers. It’s a scary time for all.”

“I got scared by the lawnmower this morning,” I told her, trying to relate to what she was saying. “So did Frank. He hissed at me, like I was responsible for the loud scary thingy zipping around our backyard.”

“And how did you react when Frank hissed?”

“Oh! I jumped on him and bit his neck. Could’ve pounded him good if KC hadn’t joined in, siding with Frank. I’m gonna try this communication-thing you’re talking about.”

“In what way?”

“Next time Frank or KC try to stop me from jumping on them and biting their necks, I’m gonna tell them what you said.”

“I can’t wait to hear what you heard I said.”

“I’m a living, breathing caricature of an ego. Hiss off!”

So proud.

Note from Momanager 

Living with Rabbit has taught me I've acquired a vast supply of patience in my advanced years. His outrageous behavior no longer shocks me. I just roll with whatever mischief he's concocted. 

The only time I get truly frustrated is when he deliberately antagonizes one of the other cats, primarily my seniors. They now live inside my bedroom until I've got Rabbit either locked up in his ZenDen, or out on the catio. Then they're free to roam the house.

Since being locked away from Rabbit, Dori is slowly gaining weight, and her back issues from being jumped on seem to be getting better.

I've been told (repeatedly) by breeders of Turkish Vans that Rabbit's behavior is normal, and actually he's very sweet.

I adore my breeder friends, and appreciate their advice. But when I think of  them living in a home with more than one Turkish Van, I imagine them holding one Van by the tail to pretend him from going after his fur sib, and in the other hand they're holding a big bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Cuz that's how I end my days here at Casa Wonderpurr.

St Patrick's Day Breaking News

Hi evfurrybuddy. This is Dori, yoor Bweaking Nooz reporter with the LATEST SCOOP on how hoomons came up with March 17th to celebwate Saint Patrick's Day.

The Leprechaun Trap - a Wonderpurr Cattoon

 

This week's Cat-toon features me, the resident AssRabbit, setting a trap for a leprechaun. Heard they might offer someone treasure if they're caught. Let's see what happens.

So pals, did I do the right thing by turning down the Leprechaun's offer of gold and Black Forest Ham? Cats don't need money, and frankly I saw a huge package of BFH in the fridge just this morning.

Enjoy your green beer, cabbage and corned beast.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day! 

Breaking News: Escaped Boat Drama

Hi evfurrybuddy! This is Dori with BWEAKING NOOZ!

This morning a MYSTERIOUS unidentified boat was found STRANDED along the shoreline in my nooz territory.

I was INSTANTLY on the scene to bwing yoo my purrsonal report.

Could this boat be STOLEN?

Possibly by a DRUG CARTEL?

Possibly by CRIMINALS from Cuba or maybe even DAYTONA BEACH?

Enquiring minds want to know, and I'm here to give yoo the SCOOP!

 

Cellmates, Farewells and Name Changes

 ​Dear Diary​ -

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.

Breaking News - Closet Space Not Sparking Joy

 

Bweaking Nooz! 

In conclusion...

It is my opinion that closets are the Devil's invenshun, 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.

This is Dori, Fake Nooz Repurrtor for Wonderpurr.com.