Showing posts with label Rescue Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rescue Stories. Show all posts

October 11, 2022

Dori's Birthday Featuring Entries From Her Adoption Diary

Hi evfurrybuddy, it’s me, Dori. *wavy paws* Guess what? Yesterday I celebrated my birthday! Nooo, I’m not wevealing how old I am cuz us wimmen need to keep some mystery as we age. 

I got lots of presents. My my favorite is a soft cushion snuggled between Momma and Daddy’s pillows where I sleep at night. I also got a small soft pink blanket with poky dots, and a little pink ball. And I got a sweater dwess with a plaid skirt. I will meowdel for yoo.

I also got Friskies Cheesy treats - a huge bag but I have to share with my fursibs. And I got a package of Churu's that I really love a lot. So I had a nice day celebrating me.

Recently my momma was purging an enormous box of papers in her office, and she came across my baby diary kept during the first months after I was rescued. I've given purrmission for her to publish the first month here for yoor viewing enjoyment.

In case yoo don’t know my story, I was born to a black feral momma named Annie who brought me to the house where I got adopted. She also brought my twin sisfur, Patsy, my two panther brofurs Kepurr and Kopea, and my daddy Nikolas who still lives with us. It was late December, and I was two months old. We were a huge handful for the hoomons who eventually adopted me. We were wild and hissy and scared. However, we all were vetted and put on PetFinders to find homes. Only my brofurs were adopted, and the man who took them kept their names.

My momma Annie, however, did not want to be adopted. She was half blind from herpes (which she passed onto the rest of us) and honestly didn’t even want to be a mother. She never played with us, but Daddy Nikolas did. He loved being a daddy. So, after she wasn’t adopted, Annie returned outside along with Patsy and Nikolas. One day she left the yard, never to return. Patsy made friends with a neighbor’s Siamese and moved in with them. And daddy Nikolas is now a member of the Wonderpurr Garage Band with Chevy.

So! About my diary. I have restrained myself from editing out the good parts, even if I am hoomilliated with embarrassment. We all know shocking details from our pasts make for social media excitement.

My diary begins on March 16th when I’m four months old. This is the date where I ran free in the house for the first time. March 20th was the date I wore my first collar. It was red.

From here I will let my momma take over to tell my story:

March 21: I heard Buddy (my 24-year-old-tabby) grumbling in the next room. When I went to check on him, I found Dori all comfy in his bed. Buddy has passed the age where he is willing to cuddle with someone, so I removed her to her own bed.

Later that day I saw Peaches playing with Dori, chasing her around the staircase and through the living room. Today is also the first time Dori jumped on top of the kitchen counter. “Yay.”

March 23: I again found Dori asleep in Buddy’s bed, this time with Buddy, curled around his arthritic backside. She looked so incredibly sweet, while he wore a definite sneer on his white-whiskered face.

Dori loves to visit her family in the upstairs guest room where they’re staying until I find them homes. They always greet her like she’s a celebrity.

March 24: Dori is getting rather “full” of herself. I saw her pounce onto her dad, Nikolas, and beat the dickens out of him. All four kittens are rather wild, and while Dori is the tamest, she reverts to her semi-feral roots when she rejoins her family. Nikolas is incredibly sweet with all of the kittens, and never disciplines them.

Dori also challenges Herman, who has such an expressive face. So often he’s looked at me as if to say, “We really don’t need a kitten.”

March 30: Dori plays chase and hunt with Peaches, using the circle of rooms around the staircase. I love watching Peaches crouch and peek around the sofa or corner, then chase Dori who then chases Peaches back.

(The photo to the right is of Dori and her dad Nikolas before they were pulled inside to be found homes on PetFinders. They lived on my porch in a couple of the dog houses I always provided for strays during winter.)

Ray is giddy in love with Dori to the point where he thinks it’s cute when she climbs his leg into his lap to eat off his plate. She’s jumping the gate to eat Buddy’s kibble, and as a result she’s getting a fat tummy.

Dori loves to ride on a carpet runner with her daddy Nikolas in the cat apartment upstairs. I drag the carpet around the room with Nik surfing with Dori hanging on by her baby claws with her tummy sliding on the wood floor.

April 2: Dori spent the day with her family upstairs playing hide and seek under a blanket tent. She’s turning into a cuddlebug, preferring to sleep in my lap while I watch television. Ray wanted her to snuggle with him and tried to get her to lay in his lap, but she got up and returned to mine. Awww.

April 3: Dori loves to ride the carpet runner with Nikolas. She is clearly advanced compared to her twin, Patsy, who doesn’t want to interact with me. I’ve been working with Annie the mom cat with the hope she will be adopted, but I’m losing hope. No interest at all on PetFinders as older cats in this area struggle to find homes. Annie now looks forward to my attention, and even rubbed against my leg the other day. Nikolas loves being brushed. When the weather turns nice they will be released outside where I’ll continue to care for them. At least Annie won’t be having any more kittens.

April 6: Dori thinks the kid pool we use for a litter box in the cat apartment is fun to play in. She loves to help me find poop, and tonight she did a cartwheel while I was cleaning.

April 7: I used the squirt bottle on Dori when she mimicked Opie by swatting Herman’s tail. Herm has absolutely no sense of humor, and he’s been rather crabby lately. Tonight, Ray and I were in my office doing taxes, and Dori was being a brat to Herm. So, I squirted her a couple of times. She looked surprised. And Herm “got it.” He immediately moved to sit beside me, knowing Dori was not going to approach the mean lady with the squirt bottle.

April 9: Dori experienced her first real pain. She has been staying in my office to give the rest of the Wonderpurr Gang a break from her sassy kitten routine. At lunchtime I went to leave to feed the cats and as I closed the French doors, I heard an awful growl. I had accidentally closed the door on Dori’s tail. When I released it, she ran, afraid of me, like I had deliberately hurt her. Opie and Peaches came rushing, ready to defend their little sweetheart. Herm was there but, clearly, he doesn’t give a rat’s patootie about her. She does pester him like a typical little sister. I finally caught her and rubbed her tail and gave her treats so I’ve been forgiven.

April 11: I guess it’s the Kitten Stage she’s in, but Dori is clumsy. She flings herself at surfaces, but misses – often. Tonight, she threw herself at my desk, missed, caught the corner on her chin. I rubbed it and she seemed okay.

She loves the kiddie pool litter box. Today I saw her lying on her back like a kid at the beach.

While hanging out in the cat apartment Dori caught her bottom jaw under her red collar. When I found her, she had her mouth hanging open. I had a hard time getting the collar off her, as it wasn’t the safety type I usually use. So no more collars until I’m able to find her a safety collar small enough for her tiny neck.

Tonight, Herman and Dori slept with us. Herm was mad at Opie for pestering him, so I brought Herm to bed and Dori joined us. There were no events throughout the night. Herm slept beside my pillow with Dori sprawled between Ray and I. Around 4 am I awoke to see her lying next to me, beside Herm. Awww, she loves her big brother, Herman.

April 12: As the time nears to release Annie, Nikolas and Patsy, I make sure she spends quality time with them. She’s been teaching Patsy to play and not be so shy.

April 15: Today I released Dori’s family. Before I did I fed them a hearty breakfast. I caged them and put them in the kitchen while I dragged their cat trees, blankets and the carpet runner outside onto the backyard porch. They spent awhile outside sniffing the fresh air. Finally, I opened the cages. Anticlimatic. They casually wandered out.

Nik and Annie were thrilled to be free, especially Nik who rolled around on the patio in a sun puddle. Then he ran around the yard, literally skipping with joy. Later I returned to see how they were doing, and they all came running out of the woods when I called.

I also noticed Feral Charlie, a brawny black tom cat, was greeted by Annie and Patsy. He’s a mess, but they were so happy to be reunited with him. I went to bed feeling better than I have in weeks. Sad because they weren’t adopted, worried for their safety, but happy because their joy was huge at returning to the life they’d always known.

Sometimes colony cats are not meant to be kept inside homes. Annie seemed depressed the longer she was kept in that bedroom. And Nik seemed bored.

April 16: Today I saw Dori standing in the doorway to the empty cat apartment where she family used to live. Since Ray has started calling her his Little Peanut, there’s no question we are officially adopting her. I have hopes for her twin Patsy to simmer down as she ages, but as it stands now, she’s too wild to remain indoors.

April 18: Today I saw Peaches’ son Jesse, another one of my outside cats, bump heads with Nikolas. I guess they are now officially brothers. And, to my honest surprise, I pet Patsy. She had hissed at me the entire time she was living in the cat apartment, but today she seems happy and secure. She came to me while I was filled a plate with kibble and rubbed against me. Yay!

Also, my semi-feral Siamese, YumYum, is making friends with Nik, Annie, and Patsy. Yum is Jesse’s girl. As I made a porch tent for the cats, they gathered to eat dinner together.

April 30: Tonight, Dori and Patsy saw each other through the living room window. They pawed at the window. Heartbreaking! I opened it to allow them to smell each other through the screen and Patsy hissed. Apparently, Dori now smells like us, and is no longer her family.

I'm so glad Dori and her family found my home when they did. Ray and I have provided food, medical and found homes to over 100 cats who were adoptable during our adult lifetime. Not all were adoptable, but after they met me, they were not longer out there overpopulating, or sick from whatever milady they had picked up from colony life.

So, Dori had a nice birthday, and while she's not overly crazy about wearing clothes, she will indulge me. The sweater dress was just too cute to pass up. Here's the video of her meowdeling for you.

July 12, 2022

Princess Bed Hog

Written by Hans Christian Andersen, The Princess and the Pea is a fairytale that makes even modern royalty look undemanding.

It tells the tale of an incredibly picky prince who was having trouble finding himself a bride. 

Actually he knew who he wanted for his bride but she was a married woman who chain-smoked, and frankly she thought the whole idea of being under a microscope as the wife of the future king was rubbish.

Oh wait. That was a more recent prince. 

Anyway, he was forced to look far and wide… rather, told his staff to look far and wide… yet continuously found himself paired with women who he didn’t believe were princesses because of things like bad table manners or being too thin. Or too fat. 

Or too old. Too naive. Too racy. 

Too serious. Too chatty. Too quiet.

Jeez man, make up your mind.

Then one dark and stormy night -- a prerequisite in all good fairytales -- a mysterious lady turned up at the castle door requesting somewhere to sleep for the night. 

For whatever reason, she told the prince she was a princess, because obviously a princess would be out on a dark and stormy night without palace bodyguards, her butler, her dresser, her chauffeur or executive chef. 

The prince let her in. Despite her soggy dress and dripping hair, she was a looker.

However his overbearing mother had been born royal, married royal, and bore royal fruit. She would never be caught dead running around at night in soaked clothes, unaccompanied by her ladies in waiting. Therefore she had doubts on the stranger's claim and hatched a plan to test the girl's regal status.

The supposed princess was offered a preposterously magnificent bed, topped with over 20 mattresses, with a single pea hidden among the ludicrous amount of bedding.

 Somehow, she managed to climb into bed and upon waking the next day reported that she couldn’t sleep because she had been in great pain and was bruised by something in the bed.

 The prince declared that only someone accustomed to the finer things in life, such as a tower of mattresses, could have experienced pain from a pea, and so the two married.

Not only is this bizarre because someone could feel, let alone get bruised by a single pea among a ridiculous amount of bedding, but also because she agreed to get married so soon. 

I mean, she didn’t even get to ‘sleep on it’! What? What?


Today's fairytale features Elly, our very own Panther Princess who lays claim to numerous beds throughout Casa Wonderpurr. 
I only recently became aware of Elly's bed domination when I placed a cushion on a newly recovered chair and saw her immediately jump onto to it, and take a nap. 

From that point on, no one else used that bed. I started taking photos of her in various beds around the house. And noted that no one else used those beds. Elly is one of my sweet but sassy former colony cats. She is FIV+, but never combative so she lives free and easy among the Wonderpurr Gang. 

There are two Hallmark stories that accompany Elly's life with us. The first being when my beloved Noah brought her to me from the woods, just like he brought me Candy. However Noah was sick and passed not two weeks later. His final gift was Elly.

The other story is how desperate she is to remain an indoor cat. She had been indoors for about two years when we had the carpeting replaced shortly before we put the house on the market. We told the carpet installers NO CATS OUTSIDE. So when Ray saw a tiny black cat on our back porch that overlooked the woods and creek, we were upset. She probably was lying in a sun puddle near the front door when the installers went out, pushing her outside with them. Anyway, she headed for the woods as I ran around the house to get her. Knowing how feral she can be when it comes to being handled, I felt dread that I would lose her. The woods hide a creek that was steep and dry. If she decided to run, she could fall and there would be no way I could rescue her.

Instead I didn't try to go to her, rather I called her out. We carried on a conversation for some time with me calling her name and she answering me with a tiny meow. Finally she emerged from the woods. Oh, I didn't tell you: it was fall and there was a thick carpet of brittle leaves I would need to carry her through to get her back inside. No one was more shocked than me when she let me pick her up, and walk ever-so-slowly through the leaves. With each step I clutched her tightly. How would I get her inside without her EXPLODING all over me? Talk about murder mittens, she's tiny and mani-pedis are a definite No No. But when I rounded the house and reached the front door, I somehow mustered the confidence to hold her with one hand to open the door, and then FLUNG her inside. Needless to say she scampered off, overjoyed to be back inside.

Elly's favorite person is Ray. She's been a touch-me-not until we moved to Florida. Now she dominates his attention when he sits on the couch, or on the floor, or goes to bed. She barely waits for him to lie down before she jumps on his chest to demand pets. 

Small but fierce, she is one of three (Candy and Frank) not impressed by Rabbit's pushy personality, and will smack him across the puss when he tries to goad her into running so he can chase her. Rabbit isn't truly a bad boy, he's just... just... *sigh* An AssRabbit.

We love our Panther Princess, and cannot imagine life without her.

Even if she is a bed hog.

July 05, 2022

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.

I also taught him “I love you” but it was difficult for him. Still I said it often and he learned it. In fact the little smarty pants used it when he behaved badly and I’d scold him. “I wuv yoo” he’d coo sweetly and all was forgiven.

He could be a little stinker. He loved to perch on our shoulders and would nip a mole or our ear. Then laugh wildly.

I also taught him to whistle various melodies, among them the theme song to the Andy Griffith Show and Jingle Bells. However he would create his own songs by mixing the tunes to suit his mood.
Woody meeting Genny for the first time 1987

We had a tiny tortoiseshell named Mandy and a gorgeous white Turkish Angora named Genny. Woody loved Genny. I mean LOVED her. He would tear apart a box of tissue and tuck it into a shoebox to create a nest. Then he would coo and chat (mimicking conversation) to coax her over. She was very good natured and would inspect the box while he showed off for her. He didn’t like Mandy and would chase her to nip her paw or tail.

Ray built a plexiglass playpen the size of our kitchen counter for Woody. He filled the floor with ground corn cobs and we put in toys and swing. He would sleep in his cage at night, but the moment I opened it he would shoot over to his playpen. That's Buddy (who lived to age 24) in the photo above with our second cockatiel Harley. The playpen was a huge hit for many years for birds and cats both. In fact we still have it boxed in the attic just in case we ever adopt another bird. Unfortunately that won't be for quite awhile considering we now have cats from colonies and one unpredictable AssRabbit.

We allowed Woody freedom to move around the house, although he had one wing partially clipped to keep him from flying off.

We would take him outside riding on our shoulders to enjoy the sunshine. One time he flew and landed on the grass. From out of nowhere a stray cat shot out of hiding and grabbed him. While we freaked and ran after the cat, Woody screamed at him using words. The cat clearly was unnerved to have his prey yell at him. He dropped Woody who ran through the grass back to me. After that we clipped his wing and tested him to see if his flight feathers had grown back before taking him out.

Woody loved to drink out of our glasses, and sample food from our dishes. One of the last memories I have of him is the day before he passed at age 2 from kidney disease (bad breeding) as he sat happily in a bowl of peas, swallowing them while laughing like a crazy man. It's a poignant memory. We loved him so very much. 

While Woody Boyd was with us only two short years, he made a huge impact on our lives. 

We missed him so much, we ended up adopting another cockatiel named Harley - should have been Harleigh as he turned out to be a she. 

And because she was a girl, she didn't possess the same ability to talk. However she was a character in her own right and lives on in our memories as well. Mostly on how she was boy crazy and loved Ray - and any man who entered our home. Our friend Bob would come over and laugh while Harley perched on his shoulder, taking bits out of his pukka necklace. We also have memories of Harley jumping into a big bowl of popcorn set out for guests, and laughing happily while throwing popcorn out of the bowl.

That's our Siamese Holly with Harley in the photo, circa 1992.

I miss having birds. While we lived in Jacksonville from 81-99 we also adopted an abused red parrot named Caija, and I rescued two parakeets from PetsMart whose wings had been clipped on both sides preventing them from flying up to the perch where their food and water bowls were. That's another story.

Every July 4th I take a moment to remember Woody Boyd, whose huge personality continues to live on despite his short life.

Hope you enjoyed Woody's story. I have so many about my beloved fur kids, I plan to share them more frequently here on
Until Next Time...

February 11, 2022

Celebrating ChauncieMarie at 17


This week our lovely French girl, ChauncieMarie, turned 17.

She lived in the field surrounding our neighborhood in Mississippi when we moved there in 2006. All the homes were brand new, and as each family moved in, we collectively became a larger family, making memories often on the driveways after work accompanied by wine and laughter.

Almost immediately word got out that a community of cats lived nearby, as they approached each homeowner for handouts. Of course I was a sucker for anyone homeless, and left out kibble and fresh water for the needy. And, of course, that brought in the gang of raccoons, but that's another story.

I'd moved to Southaven with nine cats from Kentucky. There had been a barn on the corner where too many unwanted cats congregated, and I adopted those who found me, among them Herman.

In Southaven once again I became the target of stray cats. But that was okay. My motto has always been: there is room for one more.

Across the street our neighbors, the Haleys, fed two cats, one black they named LaPark and the tabby, whom they called Chauncey. Shelly did not realize Chauncey was a girl until she got pretty fat. After having her kittens and the Haley boys naming them Bucket and Barney (both girls) Chauncey and LaPark moved to our yard, full time. I got them vetted, but unfortunately LaPark had a lot of serious health issues and he went over the rainbow bridge. That left Chauncey on her own.

While getting to know her, she told me she was French, so I named her ChauncieMarie. She loved shoes, especially my flipflops, and she liked to wear her ear on a flip with the feathery hairs acting like a tabby fascinator. So Oo La La!

I noticed immediately that ChauncieMarie came alive around boy cats. She took a flirty liking to my boys while they were in the garden. She continued to be an outdoor cat for a few years after I adopted her because I had nine cats indoors, and frankly she was not immediately trusting of the idea of sacrificing her freedom.

We had a lot of boy cats that rolled into town with their macho swaggers and tails waving high in the air with proud arrogance. Nobody was gonna tame them! Until I romanced them with fresh food and clean water, and soft blankets, accompanied by heat lamps and insulated houses during winter.

Time and again when ChauncieMarie lost her current boyfriend, she powered through with grace. Ever affectionate, ever sweet and hopeful.

One day - I remember it vividly - as it was a few days before Valentine's Day and she was crushing hard on one of my indoor boys, she peeked with curiosity into the kitchen when I opened the door. I opened it wider to allow her to come in if she wanted. She went for a stroll through the kitchen into the sunroom, then returned outside. She did that a few more times before, one day, she just stayed inside.

She has never desired to return outside since that day, and has made herself a comfortapurr member of the Wonderpurr Gang.

These days she's enjoying retirement life in Florida by taking a morning stroll around the pool catio, and sniffing at the evening breeze with the full moon shining through the trees. She still loves boy cats, and she crushes on her Daddy Ray by snuggling against him during evening Couch Time. Still agile and spry, able to leap onto the bed without the assistance of pet stairs, she has yet to acknowledge the encroaching kidney dysfunction heading her way. We are giving her the care she needs, although she's still feisty enough to need two strong arms to hold her down while getting a mani-pedi.

Sharing our lives with senior cats is a double-edged sword of joy and heartbreak. I love watching their faces age with whitened muzzles and wizened expressions. But I hurt seeing them move slower, their fur easily mat, and their bodies turn against them with disease. It's a part of life, a sad one, but still it's a blessing to have shared my life with ChauncieMarie and my other seniors.

Happy Birthday, dear lady. May you continue to Age with Grace.

August 19, 2021

Proud of my Black Cat DNA

Hi evfurryone. It's me, Dori! *wavy paws* Sorry I didn't post this on Tuesday, but my brofur Wabbit was wurking his Golden AssWabbit Awards, and if I posted then the pals who visited our blog to vote would get confoozed. 

Anyway! Did yoo know I have Black Cat DNA? It's true!

My momma was black and beeUteeful. Her name is Annie. On a cold Decempurr night, she arrived on her own to my future forever home's backyard, looking for food and shelter for her family, comprised of her husband, and four 2-month-old kittens. She found raccoon noms, but when my future Meowmy saw her, she put out special kitteh noms. 

Alas, my future pawrents were leaving the next morning to spend Christmas in Michigan. Momma told our sitter, Michelle, to leave extra noms out for Annie. So when Momma returned, not only did she see Annie, but she also met the rest of us!

My daddy, Nikolas:

My brofurs:


and Kepurr:

and me and my twin sisfur Patsy:

Can yoo tell who is in front, and who is in back? Hint: I'm always out front, and Patsy always looked like she could rip yoo to shreads... which she could. Patsy had trust issues.

Anyway! When my future Momma saw all six of us, she threw herself on the mercy of the local cat rescue, who paid to vet all of us on the condition that Momma found us homes. She brought us inside to a room all to ourselves where we lived for two months while Momma put us up for adoption on Petfinders.

Yes! I really was up for adoption. Can yoo believe it?

But then my future hoomon Daddy started calling me his little Peanut... and he wanted to keep me. Squee!

Yoo can see how "thrilled" I was.

Anyway, Momma did her best finding everyone homes. Except Annie. Because no one wanted my mom cuz of her funny-looking eyes, she was never adopted. Annie had feline herpes, yoo see, and she unfortunately passed it on to her kittens. And when I got adopted, I passed it onto my fursibs, cuz it's highly contagious. The vets never told Momma about this until I had been adopted for two years and kept coming down with weepy eyes.

So Annie wasn't adopted, and neither was my sisfur, Patsy. They were both pretty feral, so eventually Momma put them outside. There they met the other outdoor cats, Jesse (who was outside at the time) and YumYum, a feral Siamese with blue eyes. The four of them became a Gang, and they hung out together. My daddy Nikolas was a part of the gang too. He had been adopted but then the people changed their minds. 

That's Kepurr and Patsy nomming while YumYum looks on. This is before we all got pulled inside to be 'dopted. I remember how sad I was to say goodbye to my brofur Kepurr when he finally found his forever home. He was my favorite. We spent weeks together in my Momma's closet, hanging out because we weren't so feral and could be handled. Unlike Kopea and Patsy who were fweakin' wild!

Eventually Annie moved on. Momma says she clearly remembers the last time she saw Annie. Annie was walking toward the woods, and stopped to look over her shoulder one last time to where Pasty was playing with her daddy, Nikolas. And then Annie was gone. Two years later Patsy left too with YumYum. There had been a strange Siamese visitor in our yard who made friends with YumYum, and when the stranger disappeared, so did Yum and Patsy. Momma thinks they all moved in with a neighbor in Southaven where we lived at the time.

This is me and my daddy Nikolas outside
before we got rescued

I guess what the lesson here is, take a chance on stray cats, no matter how they may first appear to yoo. My fur family was all pretty high-strung when we arrived, but with love and determination, both me and my daddy Nikolas simmered the hekk down and got forever homes. And so did Kepurr who was adopted along with Kopea to a nice family who loved black cats. 

Happy Black Cat Appreciation Day to yoo all!

Momma with Jesse

June 17, 2021

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.