A New Year's Wish from Annabelle

Oh hai my furry peeps! The Warden finally let me crack open the blog, and just in time to wish you all the happiest of new years. 2013 wasn't the best year for us, but never mind that. Since we can't change anything that's already happened, we just have to look ahead and hope that 2014 is "all that and a bag of cat treats." Well, I don't know about you, but that's what I am hoping for! MOL.

The Warden isn't the best photographer on the planet, but she loves how this close up picture of me came out. Of course, when you are as cute as I am, it's pretty hard not to take a great photo, right?

And here is Mickey, where he spends 95% of every day during the winter. He just stares wistfully out at the snow covered ground and sighs...a lot. He and the Warden are already wishing spring would just hurry its behind up and get here already, and we have a long way to go before the snow melts!

Last but certainly not least, Rocky, aka the Rock Star. He has the most nicknames of all of us, I think. Naughty McNaughterson is probably what he gets called the most, for obvious reasons. The newest one is Poodle Boy, and there's a funny story behind that name that I'll let the Warden tell ya sometime. If she's good. Which isn't likely but a cat can dream.

The Warden wanted me to be sure and tell you all that she's sorry she has been such a slacker. She has been reading blogs but not commenting very much, and one of her New Year's resolutions is to do better. That won't be hard to do since she's doing such a terrible job of it lately! She promises to try harder in 2014!

From all of us here at Purr Therapy, to all of our furriends and their Wardens...we hope you have a wonderful New Year filled with love, prosperity, good health and most importantly ... nonstop purrs.

Redefining the Meaning of “Family”

Recent events have caused me to examine what the word “family” means to me and who it describes. Traditionally one’s family is thought to be those you are related to by blood and by marriage. But that’s genealogy. After what happened this weekend, I now believe that for me, merely sharing the same blood does not give someone “family” status.

To me, family means those who uplift you, those who add joy and love to your life, those who are there for you when you need them. Family does not forsake you. Family does not beat you emotionally until you crumble, bloody and broken. Family does not kick you when you’re down. Family does not unapologetically treat you badly, and expect you to carry on the relationship as though nothing happened.

So with this new definition, I had just one family member left—my sister. She was the only one who supported me when my 87 year old mother (who I believe has advancing dementia) started treating me like she hated me this summer. The meanness inflicted by the one who brought me into this world was incredibly difficult to bear, but the complete lack of empathy of my so-called family magnified that emotional pain a thousand-fold.  At least I had my sister. Or so I thought.

This weekend, she got mad at me and for a good half hour she ripped me a new one; actually several new ones. We’ve only had one fight our entire adult life, and that was nothing compared to this. She said such demeaning, hurtful things that I wondered if she’d become possessed because I couldn’t fathom how all of that loathing could be inside her all this time and was only now coming out.

When she was done with her diatribe, she said “You know, you do have family who care about you.” I pointed to my three cats and said “I know I do. One, two, three.”  This enraged her and she stormed out. But as I looked at my precious, sweet and loving earth angels with fur, I realized it was the truth. Annabelle, Mickey and Rocky are my only family.

That does not make me sad, though. I feel so blessed to have these three family members who will always love me, who will always be there for me, who will always offer a comforting purr when I’m sick and an uplifting head-bonk when I’m sad. The human beings I’m related to by blood or marriage are not my family. Blood is just blood. It does not determine who deserves the title of family.

Our Christmas Card!!

That wonderful Ann from Zoolatry has done it again. She made us this adorable Christmas card that matches our holiday header! Isn't it lovely?

We would be honored and thrilled if you wanted to copy our card and put it on your blog with other holiday cards you receive.

We would also like to post your card on our blog! Please email it to me or post it in the comments if you prefer.

Burr

Hi my furry peeps, it's Rocky! The Warden said to ask you a question, so here goes:

"How do you know when it's really cold out?"

Answer: When the pet door has iced over ... on the inside! MOL. Yes, this is what the pet door looked like this morning from inside. This happens every winter when it's really cold (below zero). The pet door has panels on the inside and outside, but it's still drafty. We don't use the door even in summer because we don't get free access to the outdoors since the Warden is a worrywart. I don't mind but Mickey, oh boy does he fuss in the summer. In the winter, he doesn't step paw outside.

This is where we all spend the winter -- in front of the wall heater. The Warden says it's an eyesore but we kitties just love how warm it is there. I hog the soft little cat blankie that the Warden puts down in front of it.

Usually it's just my brofur Mickey and I relaxicatting in front of the heater, but sometimes we allow that spoiled girl kitty Annabelle to get warm, too.

The Warden titled my post Burr because she had a good laugh -- at herself -- the other day. People were using it to mean "cold" and she said to them, "Don't you mean brrrr, as in brrrr, it's cold out." But then she Googled it. Lo and behold, burr is now listed in the slang dictionaries to mean the same thing as brrrr!! 

So whether you write burr or brrrr, we agree. It's too cold for kitties to be outdoors! Please stay warm.

Love and kitty licks,
Rocky

Do You Have an "Attitude of Gratitude" Every Day?

My kitties and I just wanted to wish each and every one of my dear blogging friends a very Happy Thanksgiving. We are thankful for all of the usual stuff, and then some.

My life is not perfect by any means, but I know that compared to many I am truly blessed. And I try very hard not to forget that. I think it's wonderful that Thanksgiving inspires people to be thankful for all the good things in their life. I do that too, but I also try to maintain the "attitude of gratitude" all year long.

According to the Law of Attraction, giving thanks for what you have causes more good to flow into your life. So every morning when I wake up, and every night in bed, I have a little ritual, a short period of thanks-giving where I verbally state what I give thanks for.

I always give thanks that my cats and I are safe, healthy and happy. I say this even when our health is not 100%, because I choose to focus on the positive and state how I want my life to be despite what the circumstance is. I also give thanks for a beautiful, perfect, happy, wonderful, productive day.

Having an attitude of gratitude helps to set the tone for my day, and even when things don't go smoothly it helps to maintain balance. Do I fall off the wagon and forget to be grateful, and find myself wallowing in despair when life throws the inevitable curve balls? Sure. I'm human. But my morning and evening thanks-giving ritual helps restore harmony.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day, and a blessed life.

Rocky the Kidd

Butch Cassidy? Sundance? Billy the Kid? Jesse James? Oh sure, those are all legendary outlaws of the Wild West. But I submit -- they have nothing on this feline desperado!

Ann from Zoolatry made this Wanted poster for us. I think it fits Rocky to a T, and I just adore it.

Rocky the Kidd is the naughtiest outlaw cat on the planet, and I'm sure he actually thinks his name is "NO!" because I say it daily, multiple times.

Rocky the Kidd stops at nothing to get what he wants: food! He will open the kitchen cupboard and then stand on his hind legs on top of the coffee maker so he can get treats down from the top shelf.

Rocky the Kidd steals food off MY plate right in front of me, sometimes even off my fork as it is moving from my plate to my mouth!

But I ask you -- who could ever stay mad at that beyond-adorable face? Not I!!

Wordless Wednesday -- Rocky wears "Mr. Bill"

(Inspired by the very funny website, stuffonmycat.com.)

Wordless Wednesday -- Kickeroo Love!

Rocky likes to "rabbit kick" his Kong Kickeroo.

When he's done giving it a good beating, he gives it a cuddle. MOL.

P.S. Please excuse all that fur on the carpet -- we have cats!! 

Rocky and Belle's 10th Gotcha Day! (sort of)

Annabelle here. My *twin* brofur Rocky and I are ten years old now! The Warden doesn’t know what day in July we were born, so we get to celebrate the whole month. How cool is that? She also doesn’t remember the exact day in July that she rescued us, because a) her brain is old as dirt and b) back then, she didn’t know that kitties celebrated their Gotcha Day. She learned this from all of you wonderful pet bloggers. So now we not only celebrate our birthday in July, but our Gotcha Month, too!

I can’t imagine what the Warden must have thought when she found us, all covered in fleas and clinging to life. We were a sight, I am sure.  Those fleas were eating us alive and two of our brofurs had already died, so it was definitely our lucky day when the Warden found us in that shack. Our momma was with us, but she was sick too from the fleas, and there wasn’t enough milk to go around. When the Warden picked us up, she could see thousands of fleas crawling on our tiny little bodies! She nearly lost her lunch!!

It was so hard for the Warden to imagine that someone would arrange for the care of their plants while they went on vacation for 2 weeks, but not for teeny tiny kittens living in a flea-infested shack. Just unthinkable, she said. But there we were, (barely) living proof that idiots really do live among us. The Warden knew she had to take us away immediately, no matter what the lady would say when she got back from cavorting on an island somewhere.

It turns out the dumb lady didn’t really care what happened to us. She didn’t care that we had flea anemia and nearly died. She didn’t care that we needed round-the-clock TLC  to make sure we lived. The Warden said she’d give us back to the lady OVER HER DEAD BODY. But that threat of dying was unnecessary, because the lady didn’t care that Rocky and I were never going back to that shack. Hooray for her not caring, because that meant we could stay with the Warden furever!

And that’s where we’ve been, for ten years. We have a wonderful life, because the Warden is the best Mom ever. I don’t know how I know this…I just do. When people tell her that she spoils us, she proudly replies “Well, of course I do!” When they say, “They’re just cats!” she gives them a look that would wither the dead if they weren’t already skeletons.

As if we could ever be “just” anything. We’re her family, her fur kids, her earth angels. The Warden says we make her life worth living. I say, she does the same for us!

Welcome to Purr Therapy!

Hi there! My name is Annabelle, and I'm one of the three kitties who'll be slaving over this blog. My brofurs Rocky and Mickey are the others, and we may even let our Warden chime in sometimes IF we feel like she has anything important to say.

This is me -- aren't I pretty? Momma says I am the cutest cat she's ever laid eyes on. It's no secret that I'm her favorite, but she loves all of us as much as any hoomin ever could. We know we won the cat lottery for sure! It wasn't her lot in life, she says, to have little two-leggers, so us kitties became her family and her kids.

She decided to name  this blog Purr Therapy because she says that's what we do: we purr, and it's her therapy. She says our purrs work miracles, that there's nothing they can't cure.

Momma likes to call us her Angels With Fur but I dunno about that -- oh, I know I am an angel but those other two...no way! 

Rocky is the naughtiest cat you could ever meet,and he tries every last bit of the Warden's patience on a daily basis. Plus, he steals food off her plate right in front of her!

Mickey's not much better; he wants what he wants, when he wants it, and she can't ever boss him around or make him do what SHE wants, cuz' that's not just how he rolls.
 

I think Momma likes me best because I'm so sweet and cuddly, and I love giving hugs and kisses and being brushed and petted all day long. She says I'm the love of her life, whatever that means.

Anyhoo, I have instructions not to make this first post go on into infinity because no one likes to spend all day reading long blog posts by cats OR hoomins. Is that so?

I hope you'll want to be my friend and follow my adventures in Purr Therapy.