to introduce myself
I’m a girl with fur and paws
I’ve been around for 9 short months
Stole everyone’s heart, including yours!
Pleased to meet you, won’t you guess my name?
Ghia Dog “Woof! Woof!”
Ghia Thunderpaws “Woof! Woof!”
Yes, after several years of discussions between myself and Prince Charming about getting a dog, we’ve finally done it. This is Ghia (pronounced like the 60s Volkswagen Sportscar – Karmann Ghia). She was born on a sheep ranch, and arrived at our place through a somewhat circuitous route involving a previous owner and an unsuitability to guard sheep.
For those interested in the breed, Ghia is 1/2 Maremma and 1/4 Great Pyrenees and Anatolian Shepherd.
She is 100% a teenager! Selective listening? Check! Clumsiness? Check! Testing the rules? Check! Sweet when sleeping? Check! Great on hikes? Check! Death to stuffies? Check!
Between Ghia and Puck, I believe we have the market cornered on white dust rhinos.
Phred loves sleeping on the cutting table, which usually means sleeping on fabric. This time I think he’s outdone himself. It must have been 15 minutes before I realized he was there. He blends right in!
Weather is warming up, here at Casa Thunderpaws. This is evidenced by the birds and other wildlife that have come to call.
It’s been warm enough to start opening the windows in the afternoons. This has made the cats quite happy. There are new smells to energize kitty brains.
This little fellow caused quite a stir. All three of the Hellboys were in the window, and he was scolding them no end!
Go away! Don’t look at me! This is my patio!
Scram! Scoot! Skedaddle!
One by one, the Hellboys left the window. If Mr. Squirrel wasn’t going to come inside to play, they had other cat business to attend to.
The Hellboys give the new Guest Bed 12 Paws Down!
There was assembly at Casa Thunderpaws this past weekend. Lots and lots of boxes were delivered by the nice fellow in the brown uniform, which meant we had to round up our tape measures and decipher instructions not written by native English speakers.
This translates to new guest bedroom furniture. Well, a frame and bed. I had serious doubts about the 20+ year old water bed we had at the previous house surviving a move, so moved it was not.
The frame went together surprisingly easy. I must say, for assemblage furniture, it is quite well made, and even came with extras of all the necessary hardware. We didn’t have to worry about losing a nut, bolt or screw!
Having a phillips screwdriver bit for the drill was a must; that nifty little gadget made bolting the cross slats on the bed frame much easier.
The mattress is gel memory foam. That was delivered with all the air sucked out, in a rather small roll. Dehydrated to within an inch of it’s life. Good thing we put the mattress on the bed before unleashing it. Whoosh! It unfolded with a mighty pop!
The boys were ever helpful when it came time for bed linens. A whisker here. A helping paw there. When all was said and done, the bed was declared Suitable for Felines. I imagine it’s suitable for house guests too.
We’ve got trouble,
Right here in Kitty City!
With a capital “P”
That rhymes with “F”
That stands for Phred!*
Our newest house demon is a whopping 2 pounds 7 ounces and 12 weeks old. Growing by leaps and bounds.
*apologies to Robert Preston
The end of an era has arrived. Claire crossed over into a better place this morning. She is the last of the original Thunderpaws Tribe. She graced our lives for 18 wonderful years.
Muppet Nose: Claire was not the swiftest of cats. It was our notion that Jim Henson was inside, pulling the strings that made her move…frequently he was on sabbatical. Claire had the ability to sit, staring down any wall with great finesse.
Claire 286: Some people think cats are from another universe, and only on Earth to observe and report back to the Mother Ship. If so, Claire had the slowest connection of all: 286 baud. We think she often dropped her connection, leading to her lost and slightly bemused expression.
Mademoiselle Moonbeam: Besides having the plushest of grey coats, Claire was our space cadet. She saw things none of the other cats did. Chasing dust motes, anyone?
Claire the Nibbler: Claire bit. But it was never a problem. Her nibbles were telegraphed so early, and so well, it was the humans’ fault if they didn’t move their fingers. She had the sharpest, whitest teeth, even at the graceful age of 19.
Claire loved her catnip-stuffed mousies, and would often wander the house, meowing at the top of her voice, mouse firmly held in her jaws. We miss you Claire. To the end, you were sweet, gentle and kind, never any trouble or mischief. Vale Claire.
Kira was a blonde: sweet, clueless, pretty. And I say that meaning no offense to any blondes reading this blog, it’s just how she was. Every day was a new day, full of adventures…probably because she would quickly forget whatever had happened the day before.
She was a fawn. I tend to think of that coloring as the canine equivalent of a Siamese cat. Like most greyhounds who have a colored mask, she turned grey early, and spurned any attempts at using Miss Clairol.
Like our other greyhounds, Kira was a rescue from the dog track. She broke a hock at 18 months, and came to live with us.
She was always happy for a walk. Or a Whopper – hold the onions! She liked her squeaky toys and to play with her furry companions, or by herself. She was a master at digging holes in the backyard dirt, and taking dust baths when the holes were suitably large enough.
She hated wind, thunderstorms, and almost any severe barometric change, meeting them with panting and pacing.
She taught us to cherish each day, and live it with wonder and delight. Kira died of a seizure four years ago tonight. No medical history. Just there, then suddenly gone. She died in my arms.