An update from Dizzy Doug.

Hey interweb people! You out there? It’s me, Doug E. Fresh Holupka (that just rolls off the jowls, doesn’t it?)!

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I’m giving the update this time because no one knows better about me than the Doug! OR is it no one knows better about the Doug than me? Anywho…

  • My beautiful body got more beautiful. Most people can’t look at me without being like ‘ohhhhhhhh maaaaaaaaaaa gaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddd, he is SOOOOOOOO incredibly handsome!‘. I just nod, because I am.
  • We still have a stupid cat named Bob. boooooooooooo bobbbbbbbbbb!
  • I have a dizzease called urinal polaroid lips and fish and noses (Neuronal Ceroid Lipafuscinonsis). I guess it’s called a dizzease because it makes me verrrrrryyyyyy dizzy. Like whoa, what’s happening, why is the room spinning or is that me spinning and then I’m not sure so I fall over or off or into something. (S)mother always catches me though, so that’s pretty cool.
  • We go to the dogtor a lot. It’s fine, I love the car. But (s)mother cries almost every time. I am not sure what that is about. Maybe she cries because no one tells her that she is ‘the cutest’ or ‘the most handsomest’.
  • She calls a lot of people about me. And she emails a lot. And she reaches out to people of DogBook and InstaDog. She has connected with a couple other (s)mothers who have dizzy dogs so I guess that makes her feel a little better? Or a little worse at first, then a little better? Being a mom must be very confusing. I wonder if she is dizzy too?
  • The other night one of the InstaDog ladies who has a dog like me told her that her dog no longer recognizes familiar faces. (s)mother read that, then threw her phone on the ground like it was on fire and started crying. The type of crying that is hard for me to watch, like when I first came and she would cry about Jake being gone. She was sobbing and saying something about how she would break in half if I ever forgot her, And if I forgot her, would I also forget about all the joy.  And I wanted to howl: MOTHER, THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, YOU ARE A PART OF ME, YOU CANNOT BE FORGOTTEN BECAUSE YOU ARE IN ALL OF MY MEMORIES. I TRIED TO TELL HER WITH MY BEAUTIFUL EYES. I COULD NEVER FORGET HER. THE JOY IS WHO I AM. But she was still very worried about this part so then I purposely fell off the couch to snap her back to the here and now.
  • Does anyone out there know what ‘be careful’ means? These are the words she says the most and I don’t know the meaning so I just usually fall over right after she says it. Does it mean fall over or crash into things? Because if so, I am doing it right!
  • She bought me a new bed and a blanket that gets hot and I love them more than food.

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I mean I guess that is it. Mostly our lives are about me being dizzy but not really about that as much as about chasing joy while dizzy. It’s possible, trust me. Hope everyone out there has a great weekend!

love,

the doug.

Where all my peeps at?

Hey yo! It’s Doug E. Fresh! She has been keeping me from my adoring fans and I am so sorry, that just ain’t cool, amiright?

As a reminder, here is my beautiful Chick Magnet being:IMG_7099

Here are some updates for all the interwebs people that love The Doug:

  • My belly is broken. I have no idea what that means but i’m guessing it  has something to do with the fact that I used to eat great food (and throw it up) and then I ate food that tasted like cardboard (and did not throw up) and then I moved up to a slightly more favorable food and yeah, throw up. The people at the shiny floor facility said I cannot eat the cardboard long term, and well YEAH, no sh!t, it tastes like butt. No wait, butt tastes good, it taste like cats. Because I hate cats.
  • Speaking of cats, I guess she thought Bob #2 was dead but now he is alive and since he started coming back to see her again she is all like ‘oh Bob, I love you so much, here you go, have the best food ever made because you are the greatest…’. Just stop. I live INSIDE the house and eat cardboard and he lives outside WHERE STUPID CATS BELONG and he gets food flown in on a private jet from Fancy Catville. Don’t ask me how I know it’s delicious, I just do. Also, cat food makes me throw up too.
  • When I come down the steps in the morning I go top speed, miss a few, ram by beautiful body into the island stools and keep on running, all day long. She calls me Mr. Lunatic. Then, at 7pm when I try to go to bed and I have to take one step at time and go slow-poke-mode, she calls me Grandpa Joe. She is dumb. My name is Doug.
  • She is not all terrible. She takes me for rides to nowhere, I am pretty sure she does that just to make me happy. But then sometimes she takes me to the ER shiny floor vet because of all the throw up and those are the moments I find her less desirable as a s’mother. She should only be allowed to take me for rides to Starbucks and to see my soulmate, Grandpa.
  • I’m on a die. What? It’s not called die? I think I’d know what it’s called and also because I MAY DIE IF YOU DON’T START FEEDING ME MORE. (Apparently, it’s Diet. I think the ‘t’ might be silent though).
  • She was supposed to go a concert in tex’s ass and, huh? That is so how you spell it. Tex’s ass. Texas is not a word, stop. Anyway she was supposed to go to a concert and I got sick so she stayed with me. She is not all bad.
  • I take that back, she is horrible. She has forgotten to feed me today. What the frick? She said someone wants to photograph my beautiful belly but what does that have to do with her STARVING ME? What is the hotline number for s’mothers who don’t feed their dogs and then brazenly EAT BREAKFAST IN FRONT OF THEIR EYEBALLS AS EXTRA TORTURE?

I cannot continue this post as I am about to pass out from hunger…

The Doug.

The update on Bob.

I didn’t want to share the update on Bob. The last time I saw Bob was late March. I started getting very worried and reached out via our neighborhood Facebook pages for folks to be on the lookout for him. There were no reported sightings.

I reached out to the Cat Coalition that had helped me trap both Bobs, and they sent word out to their contacts. Nothing. They thought it would be odd behavior for him to move on his own. I took that as they felt he was gone (in the bad way). They had other theories, that were very depressing. I blocked those out.

I called the shelter. Nothing.

I put up an outdoor camera to see if he was coming by at night. I only saw a raccoon. And even the raccoon stopped coming. Was the condo no longer a 5 star abode?

I still put food out, every night. I also cried, a lot.

I have spent my whole life allergic to cats so I have never really had deep feelings for any. I basically saw them as a health threat. But then I rescued Bob’s mom, Bob(1) and she was a total bitch who hissed at me and pretty much terrified me on a daily basis but for whatever reason, I got her. She stopped coming by shortly after I took away her reproductive rights.  That seemed fair.

Then Bob’s son, Bob(2) started coming around. And he was sweet and gentle and he stared into my soul from the bushes. And after his man-parts were rendered inactive, he still kept coming. And I bought him condo after condo and the best food and when I saw him in the driveway I would run out and put his natural flea and tick preventative drops in his food to try and give him the best chance at joy. And he’d let me get pretty close and that was close enough because the ER bores me.

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I mourned my boy Bob for several weeks. I  had come to love a feral cat. I couldn’t believe it but I was a cat person. Well, a dog person who happens to have a feral cat that they are allergic to but that is pretty much the same thing. I kept putting food out, and some nights it would disappear and I was a little hopeful, but also just glad some creature was being fed.

Yesterday, I got an alert on one of the posts from FB that a neighbor (who knows Bob) said her husband had seen Bob in their yard and he even drew a photo to show what the cat looked like, and as the cat mom of Bob, that IS BOB!

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Could it be true, my cat Bob is alive and back???!!!!! Then another neighbor saw him and hot damn if I am not a crazy cat person again who in fact does not have to deliver the news of Bob(2)’s death!

Bob is alive! And Doug could care less. And yay for JOY!!!! All is right in our world.

Eight years.

I started this blog, eight years ago today. It began as a way to chronicle life with the world’s most allergic dog. But it quickly turned into a blog about US. The definition of ‘us’ has grown, but the focus has pretty much stayed on our journey to joy.

The me that started this blog, has changed more than I ever thought I would or could. Eight years ago me had no idea what was to come. I didn’t know that three dogs (and cat) would drive my evolution.

Eight years ago, Melvin was six and it was just him and me.

I didn’t know back then…

  • that Melvin would teach me how deep love can go
  • that the vet would become a weekly destination
  • that Melvin would lose his tail
  • that I would have one of the most bonded pairs ever
  • that I would have a googly-eyed, cart dog
  • that I wasn’t meant to see Melvin grow old. Or Jake
  • that I would lose Melvin so quickly
  • that grief would break me. Twice in one year
  • that Melvin would become a part of me, his heart guiding mine
  • that my hands would always reach to care for Jake, even years after he was gone
  • that love could live on so beautifully, as if it was always meant to be
  • that joy would be my guiding light
  • that a pit bull named Doug, would save me

I also didn’t know that so many glorious and thoughtful people would love us and lift us up for so long! Thank you for following along with us. I know I don’t post as often. I want to, I promise! Doug has had some health issues and anxiety the past few months but we are turning a corner and I will be back to share that with you. We are over on Instagram stories almost daily if you want to get your Doug fix over there too (@DougHolupka.for.president).

I love this blog. I love its readers. I wholeheartedly love the dogs that have inspired each and every word, laugh, and tear. My heart will always be full because of them and you.

 

When love is hard.

There are a million different ways that love is hard. For me lately, it’s keeping Bob and Doug healthy and safe.

Bob.

Loving a feral cat is complicated. There should be a support group. Hi my name is Tracey and I love my feral cat, but I’m also a control freak so my inability to control Bob’s movements and life’s journey drives me nuts. 

We had a polar vortex. Doug would barely go outside, hell, I barely went outside. But then there is Bob, stuck outside. No matter how much I insulate both condos, or how much food I put out, Bob is on his own out there. I crack the garage door and put food just inside in hopes he is brave enough to come in and realized the garage his heated. The food is always there when I go to check if this worked.

I lay in bed thinking and worrying about Bob. Mostly just due to that lack of control factor. Thankfully, Bob shows up after every thaw, so he must know what he’s doing. Any time I can catch him near the house, I always go put wet food out. He devours it right away. Wet food, is my new form of control. To ensure he always comes back to us.

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Doug. 

Doug has started drifting out of my control area as well. When it came to Melvin’s health, we had a list of things to do. That included a list of medications for me to provide for him. And some of it was trial and error but we knew the issue (allergies and colitis) and we responded accordingly. And Jake, he had a shit-ton of issues, but they were all definable challenges that I was able to match with a joyful solution. Control at it’s finest.

The only time I didn’t have control over their health, was at the end. That’s just how the end goes.

Doug is hard to keep weight on. There is currently one food in the universe (that we know about) that doesn’t give him the poops. Once or twice a month he will throw up at night (for 2-3 nights), and then not again for a 2-3 weeks. What he throws up is not normal. From a scent perspective.

Oh excuse me for not throwing up lilies and sunshine.IMG_2268

We recently re-did blood work on him and his liver and cholesterol levels came back very low. Very, very low. So we did x-rays, and ultrasounds. Both came back fairly normal which was great because ‘liver failure’ was being thrown around a lot and if that’s what it was going to be we’d figure it out but also, universe, please just stop. We’d like to decline liver failure if possible.

I’m with (s)mother on this one, no thank you liver failure, take care nowIMG_2324

So here we are. Blood work metrics too low to suggest it’s nothing. But we’ve ruled out a lot of somethings. Also, the last liver ultrasound I went through was the day that we found out Melvin had cancer so it was nice to hear the words ‘liver looks good’. Always, whenever possible, balance bad juju with joy. It’s life changing.

So I guess next we consider scoping Doug’s digestive track. Believe it or not, NONE OF MY DOGS HAS EVER HAD SCOPE! We have a found a test that has gone untested in this house. Pure cray.

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We will keep you posted! xoxo

An update from Doug.

Yo, ya, yeeeeeee! It’s me, Doug! I’m taking over today cause the (s)mother had shoulder surgery and her arm smells funny so she can’t blog. I don’t know if that is true or not cause I love me some fake news so the truth can suck it!

Whoa, I have been very busy. Swamped. I need an assistant. I traveled to a far away land to visit my grandparents (she said they live an hour away in the same state but I age in dog years and this is my story to tell so shut it…). My grandparents wanted me to visit because they love everything about me and it had nothing to do with her having surgery. They came to pick me up and it just happened to be on the same day she needed a ride home from the hospital.  Good grief she’s needy.

Any who, they picked me (us) up and we went to their enchanted castle and they all just kept saying DOUG! OH DOUG! DOUG, YOU HANDSOME DEVIL! DOUG!!! (She will say they were screaming DOUG – NO! but she was loopy so she does not know).

I snuggled with Grammy, I went on walks through majestic forests with Grandpap, Great Grandma Betz snuck me food. I don’t even know if my (s)mother was there the whole time or not because the entire visit was all about me and my family wanting one-on-one Doug time. To be honest, I really just live for moments with Grandpap. Every night they would lock me in the room with her (and her weird arm) and I would do something that I have never done before: cry. I would cry if I heard my grandfathers voice and she would laugh and say ‘grandpap needs a break’ and I would say SHUT UP YOU’RE DUMB!

On the 4th day we were there, I woke up to the most glorious smells. Turkey. Pie. Gravy! I was in a scent coma and assumed that Grandpap had made some delicious feast to celebrate that he had decided to adopt me so we could spend the rest of our lives together. Oddly, I didn’t get a single bite of that dinner. In fact, I had to spend time in a condo because there was a teeny tiny person there and she said I am not approved for children under the age of one. I don’t know what Thanksgiving Day means to you but for me it was scent torture and exclusion.

We are back home now. Boooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrringggggggg. It’s weird because my dog walker comes everyday but (s)mother is here also. I guess her weird arm doesn’t want to walk me anymore since apparently I was the reason she had to have surgery. Everyone always blames Doug!

What else, what else? I had a birthday! We took some treats and beds and toys to dogs at the county jail. What? That wasn’t a jail? There were cells with concrete floors and the dogs were in the cells no softness. What do you mean that is where they live!??? We need to get them out of there! No, I don’t want them to come here but they need to go to someone’s home to be loved on like I am!

I somehow may have agreed to let her TRY to find a second dog and I somewhat promised to be as nice as possible to those she deems worthy to meet me. I mean, I cannot stand the thought of dogs in that jail situation. Ugh, I’m always having to ‘do the right thing’. It’s exhausting.

Anywho, I’m pretty exhausted from doing all the Christmas decorating so I’m heading to nap. I’m supposed to tell you that my cat brother Bob is doing great but that dude is not my brother and I am not going to give any updates on him during my blog time.

Peas out. Doug

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Prisoner and warden, role reversal.

I am having surgery in November, and it’s all Doug’s fault.

She’s a liar, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. img_2796

Last fall, I was lifting Doug out of my SUV. We had just been to rehab and even though he was cleared for activity, jumping out of the back of the SUV is a little tough on his stubby hippo legs so I always lift him out.

 

It is important to note here that aside from my parents house, Doug will not go #1 or #2 anywhere but in our yard or in our neighborhood. He would drink 5,000 gallons of water at rehab and never pee before I got him in the car to come home.

Why, Doug, why?

I’ll tell you why, my body, my rules. If you get to say it, so do I. img_0777

When I put him down on the ground and took the leash, I didn’t expect for him to lunge-run to the closest grass, which was about 30 feet away. I was pulled down and dragged/slid. The pain was terrible and I honestly felt dizzy from it. All I could do was hold onto his leash and get us both inside.

Ok, if I’m being honest, I may remember doing this now. But in general, I would never try to purposely hurt my sMother. I mean, my Mother. 54342NNhol112204-R4-057-Edit

My shoulder and arm hurt so bad, I thought they were broken. I had road-rash up and down my entire body. As someone who has a blood clotting condition and a takes blood thinners, you can imagine the horror scene. I had to make my way upstairs and into my shower so as not to bleed out on all of the white furniture I see the  need to invest in!

Why, Tracey, why?

The road rash eventually cleared up. My shoulder pain went from excruciating to acceptable. I managed to still love Doug.

Over the past six months or so, my shoulder has become more and more painful and the activities I’m able to do with that arm have become more and more limited. Also, sleeping is impossible. There is no position that works.  I mean, who needs sleep anyway?

I got an MRI and some X-rays and it turns out that I have fully torn Rotator Cuff on my right (dominant) shoulder. Surgery is set for mid-November and apparently recovery is terrible. Thanks again, Doug! I will be off work for one week, working from home the 2nd week and hopefully be in the office a little more from weeks 3-6. I guess the first two weeks I won’t have much use of that arm at all, which seems like it is going to make everything challenging. I’ve been trying to not use that arm at all to get my left arm ready but so far it’s not going well.  I tried to put make-up on with left hand and I legit looked like a crack whore. I also tried to get dressed, brush my teeth, makes Doug’s food and blow dry my hair with just my left hand and I can say with absolute certainty that if it was only up to me, none of those things would happen. Luckily, I will have plenty of help.

The worst part about all of this is that I can’t drive for 6 weeks. Well, the actual worst part of this is that the pain I’m currently feeling is causing problems with my neck and likely contributing to an increase in migraines. But the not being able to drive part is up there.

Way to go Doug!

Um, who’s going to take me to get Pupccinnos?IMG_0388

Um, who’s going to feed me? It’s not my fault my brother is a jerk!IMG_8369

Melvin pulled me down once on a walk when he tried to take off running after another dog. I escaped with only a bruise. Jake poop’d on me but that mostly caused emotional bruising, nothing physical. Doug has caused the need for surgery. I don’t know what award he wins for this but congratulations on whatever it is!

 

 

Wild Kingdom.

Doug has never really shown interest in chasing squirrels.  He might see them and stare but for the most part, no. Obviously last spring through fall, he was on post-surgery tie down, so much more so, nope to squirrels.

This year, Doug is pretty aware of the two squirrels (they have lived just behind our fence for YEARS and I named them Breakfast and Dinner because Jake used to hunt them 24/7, even in his sleep) who use our yard as a dumping ground for acorn shells and squirrel germs. Doug doesn’t hunt them like Jake, he is much more of the: I shall chase after them but hopefully I don’t catch them because they could be violent or be concealing a weapon.

He will see them from the couch, and sometimes forget he’s inside as he goes to chase after them. Almost always, they will see him (whether he is inside or outside) and do a freeze with a look that says, you are way less scary than the dog before you, and then they will take off. If Doug is outside, sometimes he thinks, I guess, that he can jump over our 7-foot fence. He however, cannot.

Where dat squirrel at? IMG_7106

It’s all fun.  If a squirrel drops anything in its efforts to escape, Doug, true story, will go locate said item (an acorn) and bring it inside as an extra FU.  I just love having acorns in my house with squirrel saliva all over them.

So to recap, squirrels = friends/playful.

Move over to the driveway side of the house, where Boy Bob (Bob 2) taunts Doug with his meowing. Doug is way more aware of that window now and he polices it pretty regularly. Recently I noticed that Bob’s food bowl was being taken over by ants so in true crazy person mode, I googled ant-less feeding solutions.  Found a few and I’ve been outside setting up some of those fixes, along with a new condo for Boy Bob to take a break from the elements. My being out there makes Doug even more aware of the Boy Bob situation.

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Well this week, a crow has taken up residence in our driveway area.  I have never once, in seven years here, seen a crow.  So it makes sense that the first one to move in, moves into our yard. Apparently the crow thinks the condo and food bowl are his. Or hers. I don’t know crow gender. Let’s call him S/he.  So this giant food thief is always lurking. This has not gone unnoticed by Doug. There is nothing, NOTHING, that Doug flips out more over than this crow. I don’t know if they know each other from the streets of  South Carolina or what, but Doug sits at the window like a scarecrow and comes to life horror movie style when the crow arrives. I have yet to catch it on film because the home camera does not pick up that window and if I’m home, I’m just trying to avoid having the crow fly into our house via a suddenly broken window.

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To maintain my sanity on this issue, I do pretend that Doug is defending Boy Bob’s condo and food. It’s the story I plan to tell the window replacement company.

May Day.

It has been a little too busy over here. I am helping out with some extra projects at work so that is one part of it, our roof decided to give up 7 years into existing so when it rained ALL week last week, it did so outside AND inside.

Here are some highlights as we call ‘uncle’ on May!

  • Doug met a few ‘potentials’. It turned out they were only potentials for me. Doug hated them. Thus, we met with a new trainer, who I really like.  In the past I have worked with trainers on his need to mouth feet, or my need to be able to encourage him from wild to place. This trainer is going to help us get Doug back to being more comfortable with play dates and hopefully then, a housemate. I will do a separate post on this.
  • I don’t think Bob #1 is with us anymore. She could have relocated, we had a surge of feral cats this spring so maybe she found a new gang to run with. I have not seen her in several months. She is chipped to me and I have not gotten any phone calls so, who knows. We wish that vixen all the best.
  • Bob #2 is a regular. Last night I pulled into the driveway and he was in our bushes.  I stood in the garage to see if he would come up to his bowl and he did. Every time a bird flew by or there was a noise, he would flinch. I guess that is the life of a feral cat. After he ate he took a little siesta on the driveway and even though I’m deathly allergic and he is just generally terrified, I think he knows I’m the provider of food. Also, I love him. IMG_9524

 

  • This spring is so much better than last spring for Doug! Last year at this time we were a few weeks into Doug’s first surgery. This year, Doug owns his yard like a boss. He chases the squirrels out of it, he digs for moles (I could live without this), he makes sure his jolly balls get the attention they deserve and then he lays down on every soft surface, except the dog chaise I bought for him.IMG_9396

 

  • To add to the awesomeness of Doug’s life, he has graduated from being in the mudroom when I am gone to having access to the main floor of the house. I slowly gave him more freedom and he has done really great with it all.  The first few days he sat and stared at the door like a statue, but somewhere around day 5 he realized he could do what all other dogs do when their humans are way – lick his parts and nap.IMG_9363

 

  • Melvin and Jake continue to send me songs and beautiful sunsets. And Doug and I continue to help dogs in need so that their #loveliveson .

Have a wonderful week!

 

 

Who runs the world? Moms.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms! To the hockey moms, the dog moms, the new moms, the grand-moms.  To the male moms, the single moms, the families with more than one mom moms. To the cheer moms, the carpool moms, the dance moms. To the moms that gave birth and to the moms who open their doors to children in need. To the working moms, the stay-at-home moms and the do-whatever-is-necessary moms. To the worry-they-have-no-idea-what-they-are-doing moms. To the moms of one and the moms of many. To the moms setting a better example for their kids, than what was set for them. To the moms preparing to become moms.

To the moms who have lost a child. I won’t pretend to have the words.

To those who have lost their moms. I wish you strength as memories sneak or flood in.

Moms rule this universe. A mom created your beating heart and then (hopefully) filled it with love and confidence and joy and understanding.

To my mom, you taught me the meaning of true, unconditional love. It’s the foundation of my beautiful life.

To Max, Melvin, Jake, Bob(s) and Doug, being your mom, is my everything. You are my joy.

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The Bobs.

Update on Doug’s arch enemies cat siblings.

I have not seen Bob #1 in a long time. I am not sure what happened. She is microchipped to me and no one has called to say that she has been injured or killed. My guess is that she has either died (perhaps in a remote area or in the sewer) or she’s relocated. I obviously hope it’s the latter. Bob #1 and I never really bonded. Not just because of the allergies but also because she’s sort of a raging bitch and she really does not seem to like humans. Especially me. Which is totally fine, but it’s defiantly hard to bond with someone who you fear might chew or claw your face off.

Bob #2 on the other hand, is doing great. He comes to eat daily. He meows in the driveway to let Doug know he’s here. This fires Doug up so he rams the widow and viciously barks at Bob #2. Bob #2 just sits and torments him and laughs in a funny cat-sibling sort of way. Bob #2 also seems to like me. He will come pretty close to me and he watches me pour his food so I’m pretty much the best person ever to Bob #2. I even bought a water filtration bowl that holds a gallon of fresh water so he doesn’t have to drink sewer juice. If that doesn’t scream love from a deathly cat allergic person, I don’t know what does.

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Funny thing about Bob #2, I love him. I mean if he hasn’t come to eat on any given day, I worry and I go outside and start meowing like a crazy person.  Then it gets stranger because I start calling out Bob, Bob, BOB!.

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As for naming, we were going to go with Carl. But since there may only be one Bob now, he may just stay Bob. We are going to give it a few more months and if Bob #1 is really gone, we’ll make it official that Bob #2 is Bob. Just Bob. No number. Regardless, his middle name is most definitely Poop, because six-year olds choose the best cat names.

 

 

It’s a boy!

So maybe you will recall that after Bob (the feral cat that I thought was a boy, but was really a lady cat, and she had kittens and I got her fixed and now she’s chipped to me but roams the means streets of our hood), Bob 2 showed up.  Bob 2 looked so much like Bob one that I didn’t even know they were different cats for a while. Then I realized that Bob 1 has two eye patches and Bob 2 has one.

Cat math is hard.

I am pretty certain that Bob 2 is the child of Bob 1. When we trapped Bob 1, we were not sure if all her kittens were accounted for. I have been feeding Bob 2 for about six months.

So recently Bob 2 was trapped (accidentally when we were trying to trap my friend’s missing cat). Since I have been feeding Bob 2, I claimed him/her and s/he went to the vet for the snip, snip.  Obviously by the title of this post you can figure out that Bob 2 is a boy! We didn’t know this until the vet was able to take a looksy.

He was chipped to me, released back into my yard and he comes to eat every morning and night again.

Also, I’m still deathly allergic to cats.

I have no idea what to call Bob 2. Here are some ideas, feel free to vote on one or add your suggestion and we will formally name him this weekend.

  • Bob 2
  • Bobb
  • Carl
  • Oreo
  • Poop (suggested by a six-year-old)
  • Sherry (same six-year-old)

If anyone is wondering what Doug thinks of Bob 2.  He hates him. He barks viciously and rams the window when he hears him meowing.  That said, if Doug ever comes face-to-face with Bob 2, he would paws-up surrender and cry and jump into my arms for safety.

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Letters from Heaven. Letter three.

Hey Doug, it’s me, Jake.  How’s it hanging homey?

Your legs seem to be doing better. Only one dog can own wonkalicious and that is me, brother.  You’re going to have to get your own nickname. I was thinking you could own zoomiezombie!

I have been sending you some high fives from Heaven.  You try to chase birds, in flight!  Dude, you are awesome! You run, while they fly, and then you ram into the fence.  Hahahahahaha – oh brother, I really wish I was there with you, we would destroy those birds.

I also really, really, really appreciate how viciously you bark at Bob #2.  I mean s/he runs when you ram up against the window at her/him.  You and I both know that you would crap yourself if s/he ever saw you without the protection of the window. But good for you brother, you make me proud.

We noticed that you are finally not a spaz in the big bed.  That bed has a really beautiful history of naps with her (she called them migraines but they were naps), we were starting to think you were going to darken our legacy, but you finally calmed the F down.

Things here are great. We miss her, a lot. We send her signals that we are there with her and she catches every single one. She is so smart. Melvin and her talk all the time. He says it is his joy and purpose, on earth and in Heaven, to be her guardian angel.  I love her too, but I keep pretty busy making sure this place stays bumpin! I greet all the new dogs like I own the place!

We added a few to our gang recently, Sally – I know how much you love her brother, she’s here and she’s doing great. She is my spirit animal. She and I will probably get married. She is just impossible not to love.  Massey is here, I used to fence fight him but come to find out, he’s a cool, chill dude. He’s running (he is so fast) and jumping and keeping an eye on his family. Guinness is here now. That dude is so awesome, like I secretly watch him so I can learn his moves. He’s still pretty focused on letting his mom know he’s ok and that he’s with his sisters. I have a feeling he and I will get leather gang vests at some point (Sally will totally get one too). Diamond just arrived. Corbin leapt over like six hundred dogs to meet her! She lived the longest of all of us and she said that despite all her years, all she recalls is the love over the last few years with her mom.

Hey Doug, that time of year is coming up, the dates when she found out that Melvin and I had cancer.  Those dates still haunt her a little.  She tries really hard to forget them, but she can’t, because they are linked to us. So on February 9th and March 3rd – be extra saucy or snuggly. Keep her mind focused on joy. We are counting you.  Don’t let me down bro.

We still have bets on you. You are such a wild card.  I think you will still turn out like me. Weird legs, troublemaker, badass.  But Melvin thinks you will be soulful, like him and Max (boring!).  Either way, we made a really great choice in sending you to her. We can tell you love her like we love her. And it’s ok that she loves you every bit as much as she loves us. Love is supposed to live on. We only want her happy and safe.

Ok brother, I gotta go, my peeps need me to start this day with some Jakey funk!  Keep chasing the birds, I’ll be right next to you, hoping you catch one!

Love,

Your hero mentor brother, Jakey.

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Bob. Take two.

I don’t even know where to start this update.

Bob, the cat that I named before I knew HER gender, is my (well is she really anyones?) feral cat. You’ll recall she was trapped this past spring and I got her fixed at my vet. I put food out for her every night and on occasion we’d run into each other and she’d hiss at me.

I would see Bob around here and there, but never consistently.  Until a month or two ago, when I’d see her every day and the food bowl would be empty each night.

The other day, I got a good look at her and well…now I think there are two Bobs. The new Bob, which I call Bob #2 looks exactly like Bob #1 except that Bob #1 has two eye patches and Bob #2 only has one. Clearly, the numbering of Bob and her eye patches could use some work.

I have heard that good food can change a cat’s coat and coloring but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it cannot erase an eye patch.

I do not know where my life with Bob #1 ended and my life with Bob #2 began. I also, again, do not know Bob #2’s gender.

I’m more than a little worried about Bob #1.

When we trapped the original Bob, it was suspected that she had more kittens than what we found on my neighbors porch. It was likely (unfortunately) that she got trapped before all her kittens were accounted for. My guess is, this may be one of Bob’s kittens.

I do not have any plans to trap Bob #2. I really hope she is a dude.  And gay. (no babies down this path in case you cannot keep up with my logic).

Regardless.  Bob #2 is eating great food, has a condo in my driveway and Doug hates her/him so they are definitely siblings also.

The universe can stop sending me cats at any time now.