New Site Design on Our Dating Site

Hi Burgers,

If you frequent our Dating site in the FAIL Blog cluster, you might have noticed the layout is a bit different today. In an effort to streamline the site and improve performance we’ve cleaned things up a little.

Let us know what you think! Do you like the new design? How does the site run?

We’ll be working to perfect the new design over the coming weeks so any and all feedback is welcome!

Cheers,
Evan

 

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Cats Have Begun to Enlist Air Force Minions

Hi Burgers,

This little doozy went the rounds yesterday, let’s give it our best shot and flood the Internet with the finest captions around.

Click the image to go to the builder!
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Cheers,
Evan

 

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Gif-Together For All the Front Pages!

Hi Burgers,

I’m glad there was plenty of positive feedback for the idea of showcasing some lols that should have made Front Pages on Mondays!

I want to point out the vast treasure trove of content that has been collected by the champs running The First FP’s group profile as their collections were the impetus for the idea. These collections are a good place to look for some fantastic, under the radar content.

We’ll get started next week, until then, to all ICHCBAs, We salute you.

What’s new with you guys?

In honor of IHOP National Pancake Day today. Free short stack for a charitable donation. Hold me back!

Sylviag

So I was walking down the street. Feeling a little lost

when this guy came up to me and said look at this flashy thingy.

And now my eyes don’t feel kinda right. So …

anselmbe

Did I miss it?

Chris10a

Dolphins & Cormorants Herding Fish

ani.s4

This is the theme now!

imagesimages1

 

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You Really Should See This

Hi Burgers,

I noticed the following lol this morning while I was attempting to battle another Monday with a foolish amount of coffee.

Though we do our best, I realize there are many hilarious Cheez Peeps out there who aren’t making the Front Pages. I hate to see any terrible puns or clever cat people’s funnies going to waste, so I thought we could start using Monday’s to highlight lols that might have slipped past.

If you created a lol or saw a friend’s recently that gave you an extra chuckle, post it in the comments for extra FP consideration!

If you all want to make this a regular blog post, let me know that too.

Cheers,
Evan

 

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Featured Fur Monster(s): A Tale of Ten Kitties

Hi Burgers,

This week’s FFM post is an epic story full of love and spans the length of several lives from cataff’s very special and large family of felines.

The full tale wouldn’t quite work on the post, but it is a very touching story, so I’m going to put it up it in its entirety at the bottom of this post.

Thanks Cataff!

Featured Fur Monster(s): A Tale of Ten Kitties

Cheers,
Evan

A Tale of Ten Kitties, by Cataff

This is the tale-or tail, as the felines might term it—of ten kittehs that this human has been fortunate enough to live with. It all started after several years of being catless and broken hearted due to the passages to the Rainbow Bridge of my former furry friends. My heart finally had healed enough to entertain the thought of another cat. I went to the local SPCA and asked that they show me only adult cats that had been with them the longest, as I wished to help a cat that didn’t appear likely to be adopted. The staff kindly put these cats into a large play area and allowed me to wander freely among them. Out of the blue a brown short haired tabby, who was quite chubby to be a shelter cat, came up to me as if she had known me all her life and greeted me as if it were an everyday occurrence. Being a cat lover for years, I knew what it meant when a cat chose a human, so I immediately said I would like to adopt her. Her shelter name was Bella, and she had been found, ragged and emaciated, rummaging for food at a strip mall and had been quite eager to partake of all the food she could get into her mouth at the shelter—hence her rotund figure. When all was ready for her to go with me, she calmly walked into the carrier with no urging and home we went. She didn’t answer to Bella, and after studying her purrsonality and actions for a couple of weeks, I was led to understand that her name really was Gizmo. She settled right in and showed herself to be quite intelligent and loving, and all was well other than her size and terrible anxiety if food weren’t available. We were content to have this one special cat that our vet estimated to be between three and four years old. It was February 1995. Before her departure for the Bridge, she would teach me many things about life, including true tolerance and trust.

In 1996 a sleek, kempt black short haired cat began to hang around the yard. I was sure she had a home from observing her condition and figured she was just visiting. As time went on, it became apparent that she was expecting and that she no longer had a home because her appearance had deteriorated and she had lost weight. The weather was getting hot, and I couldn’t stand to see her not cared for, so I began putting out water and food. She stayed around the yard, and on June 21 she made herself a nest in the shrubs by the front porch and delivered five kittens. We thought we would let her raise them to an age at which they could be adopted. As soon as they became active enough to start wandering, we built a shelter for all of them at the edge of the woods behind the house, and as soon as the kittens could eat solid food, we took Brite Eyes to be spayed. The vet’s staff asked for a name, and Brite Eyes (she had very yellow eyes that stood out brightly against the black of her fur) just came out.

It was decided that one of the kittens (one large long haired brown tabby male, and four females, all long haired brown tabbies) would stay with us and become a companion for Gizmo while the rest would be adopted to other homes. I played with them and watched them for weeks before choosing one of the girls. When she was eight weeks old, I brought her inside and began the introduction process. Gizmo handled the situation well and became a good pal to the kitten, who earned the name Lucy by always getting into trouble the way Lucille Ball did in I Love Lucy. Her fur was extremely soft (even our vet always said she had the softest fur he had ever felt), and she loved to get up on my chest and lean her head against my neck and stay there for hours. I will always remember that we watched Babe together that way. Even when she was fully grown, she would sit with me in that position. She was very graceful and a true little princess.

Adopting out the others didn’t go as planned. I was very picky about who would be allowed to have a kitten, and so many just weren’t right—had children that were too young to know how to deal with a kitten or admitted that they would not be taking any cat to a vet, etc. At one point we rounded them up to take them to a lady we knew who worked with a no-kill shelter and had agreed to take them and Brite Eyes, but there was a problem at the shelter that day, and we got a call just before we were about to leave that the shelter had to be closed for the day. We had all those cats in carriers after a difficult round up and were very frustrated. We decided while we had them in carriers, we would see if our vet could spay/neuter the kittens, who were four months old then. The vet agreed, so we took them to the office, and they would have the surgeries the next day. The following evening we picked up five very groggy kittens (we took Lucy too) and brought them home. The four that were supposed to go to the shelter and their mom were put back into the shelter we had built for them.

The next day one of the females managed to escape, and she ran to the neighbor’s wood pile and secreted herself in there where no one could reach her. We tried to lure her out with tuna and such, but she was having none of it. The neighbor even let us pull wood off the pile to try to reach her, but she was faster than we were and always a step ahead of us. Trapping didn’t work either because nothing we did would lure her into the trap. We replaced the wood and worried and hoped she would finally get hungry enough to come to us. The only comfort was that at least there would be no worry that she would have kittens. Time passed, and we would see her at a distance, but she would never let us get close. We didn’t know what she was eating. She couldn’t get to the food for the others inside the shelter. This went on for well over a year. We had come to call her Woodpile Cat—Woodee for short. In late March of 1998, I saw her in the yard sniffing around the shelter, so I decided to try the trap again, and this time she went right in to get the food. We live in an area that has rabies, and she had not had the one-year booster, so we took her to the vet to be checked out and quarantined to be sure she didn’t have it. They found all sorts of parasites, which they eliminated, but she was fine otherwise, and the quarantine time passed with no symptoms. We decided she would come in with Gizmo and Lucy when we brought her home.

Woodee had lost weight during her wandering time, but she began to regain it with no problem. She was shy around Gizmo and Lucy but there was no aggression among them. Then one evening I was petting her and rubbed her belly and felt what I was sure was kittens (I had once bred Himalayans), but how could that be? She had been spayed. I wanted her checked by the vet but had work obligations that would have made a vet visit have to wait, so I asked my husband to take her. He saw the younger partner in the office, and she told him Woodee wasn’t pregnant and did an x-ray to “prove” it. What I know but he didn’t is that kittens won’t show on an x-ray in the earlier stages of pregnancy. When I got home and he told me all that, I was furious and determined to take her back myself even if I had to take time from work. A strange and totally uncharacteristic lethargy then came over me and an inner voice told me to just let it go. No one who knows me would believe I ever would just drop something like this, but I did. If my husband had seen the senior vet that day, he would have confirmed the pregnancy and aborted the kittens as I had told my husband to ask to be done, but the younger vet didn’t like to abort kittens. I made a birthing box and put it in a quiet place even though my husband continued to insist I was mistaken and she wasn’t pregnant.

In the wee hours of the morning of May 14,1998, Woodee climbed into bed beside me, something she had never done previously, awoke me grunting and proceeded to have a kitten almost on top of me. I carefully got up, turned on the light, and saw a tiny tuxedo kitten. I put mom beside the kitten and mom did know what to do. Before I had to leave for work, a second kitten, a short haired brown tabby, had been born. It was obvious that Woodee was still in labor when I left, and I wondered all day how many more there would be. When I got home, I found there had been one more, a long haired totally black one. They all had been moved to the birthing box, and Woodee was content to keep them there. Gizmo and Lucy watched and kept their distance. We would later learn that our cats weren’t the only ones being spayed/neutered the day of the surgeries and that Woodee had been shaved and given the anesthetic but had never had the surgery. With so many patients to look after, the vets and the techs somehow never checked her non-existent incision, and she had escaped before I had a chance to look. Why it took her so long to become pregnant after her escape will always be a mystery, but I can say that all I had to do was say “miracle kittens” in the presence of the junior vet, and she couldn’t look at me. I have no doubt that the senior vet really let her have it for the x-ray trick, and both of them were extremely apologetic over the entire situation. They refunded the charge for the spay that wasn’t, actually spayed her at no charge, and provided free vaccinations for those three kittens until I told them enough was enough and I would pay, thank you very much.

By this time we were hopelessly in love with all the cats and two at a time, with help from a cat counselor, moved all the ones from outside to inside the house. Somehow it all worked. There were small squabbles but nothing major, and I was in Crazy Cat Lady Heaven.

Brite Eyes and Gizmo both were alpha cats, but the counselor told me we could prevent problems by having me establish myself as alpha of the house and told me how to do so. Both ladies managed to co-exist without fighting. Brite Eyes did love to terrorize her kittens and grandkittens. She never touched them, but she would start running toward then and snorting and then laugh as they fled in terror. She would sit on the arm of the recliner as I worked there. All would begin well. Then she would decide she wanted to be on the other arm and would stomp across my work to get there. Then she would start leaning against me until she pretty much was in my lap. I would have to nudge her off the chair and she would huff off in a snit. A little later she would return, and the entire process would be repeated. She always slept pressed against my side. In 2006 she sat down one day and put her right leg out straight from her body. I knew something was wrong and took her right to the vet—bone tumor, still small but already deadly. We had to help her to the Bridge that October. She was the first of the Gang of Ten to leave, and I was distraught and so not ready to lose my Gang.

The big tabby male was named Guy, and he was indeed a gentle giant. He didn’t care much for Gizmo, but he never touched her. He would glower at her, and she would go elsewhere. That would be the end of it. He took care of his smallest sister, and where he went, so did she. His fur was very much like Lucy’s but not quite as soft. In the late summer of 2006, he began to drink an excessive amount of water, and the blood work showed he was in kidney failure. Despite a special diet and sub-q fluids, we had to help him to the Bridge less than a week after his mother’s death.

Woodee’s tuxedo kitten was named Tazz because she was always active like the cartoon character of the same name. There was something special between her and me. She liked to sleep on top of me at night, and when she was there, it always felt as if a missing piece of me had been put into place. She was very smart and caught onto things very quickly, and she loved to play. If an envelope with a pull off tag arrived, no matter where she was or what she was doing, she heard that tag being pulled off and appeared to grab it to play with. Weekly I had to take a yard stick and poke under the refrigerator to remove all the toys she had pushed under there. Each time it was like Christmas to her. She began to slow down dramatically in early 2007. It was inoperable cancer, and we knew before summer came, she would be gone.

In the meantime Gizmo had developed hyper-T, and the decision was made to treat it with medication. She did well on that and all seemed well, but when I got home from work on February 28, 2007, she was meat loafed on the floor and seemed to be laboring to breathe. I called the vet, who was about to close the office, and he met us there. By the time we arrived, she was much worse. He had to intubate her and give her oxygen. The digital x-rays showed bleeding inside her chest, but there was too much blood to determine the source. She was deteriorating, and we all knew that she would be gone before he could open her up and see if he could find the cause and fix it. He went to get the sedative and the drug to send her to the Bridge, and I told her it was all right for her to go on and leave and that I didn’t want to see her suffer. She gave one long breath and left on her own. I hadn’t expected this and was in shock but not so much that I didn’t feel my heart ripping. I expected this was going to be the toughest loss I had yet endured. Two nights after she left, I dreamed about Gizmo, and it was unlike any other dream I’ve ever had. I was at my computer working and suddenly she was there beside me about to rub against my leg. I had horrid nightmares as a child and learned on my own how to control my dreams. I can stop a nightmare cold. I didn’t want the pain of feeling her touch and knowing it wasn’t real, so I began to will her out of my dream, but the thought, “No, I will take care of this,” came to me, and I stopped. She did rub my leg and let me know that all would be well but she had to go now. She walked toward the back wall of the room, and it melted away, revealing a beautiful, sunny meadow filled with cats. She joined them, and then the wall reappeared. When I woke up, I had no anguish anymore and never have since even though I miss her. I can’t explain any of this, but it is the truth.

Tazz’s time came on March 24, 2007. We had to help her to the Bridge so she wouldn’t suffer. When I saw that she couldn’t jump even enough to get to the top of a small stool, I knew it was over.

Tazz’s sister, the short haired brown tabby, was called Junior because she looked like a miniature version of Gizmo even though they were not related, and the Puritans had used the junior designation for both males and females. She was a leaner like her grandmother, and after Brite Eyes died, Junior would sleep against me at night. In February of 2008 she had diarrhea, and something inside me told me this was serious. I took her to the vet, who could find nothing really wrong and treated the diarrhea, which did resolve. I stayed worried about her and could see that she had some sort of pain. I took her back to the vet, and he decided that the diarrhea had been rough on her system and decided to give her a steroid shot to get rid of any inflammation. She quickly was her old self, but we were to learn later that she had a tumor—very small at the time—and it responded to the steroid. She had about a month of what I called golden time, but then the effects wore off. Pain returned, and we were referred to a specialist. Their scans showed that the cancer had already spread to her lungs. There was a spot on one of them that hadn’t been there two days before. There was no way we were going to win against something that aggressive, so we helped her to the Bridge on May 14, her tenth birthday. That tough little girl knew what was going to happen that day, and she spent the early morning painfully, but with determination, visiting all her favorite places in the house—even getting herself onto the bed and refusing to allow me to help her.

Another of Brite Eyes’ kittens was Priscilla, a long haired brown tabby. She wasn’t close to any of the other cats but didn’t fight with them either. She was our guard at night. She slept at the foot of the bed between us, and when my husband would get up for anything during the night, she would accompany him. She’d wait for him and walk him back to bed too and then jump back up herself. She didn’t go with with me, but she watched me go and return. She would sit on my lap when I was in a chair and enjoyed being petted. Prissy’s body began to fail her during the summer of 2009, and it was another cancer. On August 24 of that year, we helped her to the Bridge. Before she got to that point, she stopped sleeping on the bed with us, but one night she came back to her old spot. When I got up for something, she walked me there and back. It was the only time she ever did that for me, and I know it was her way of saying goodbye.

It would turn out that Lucy was too much like her brother Guy. She also went into kidney failure, and on December 12, 2010, we helped her to the Bridge. It was a chilly day and was almost sunset when I got home with her body (we live in the country and can bury pets on our property). I had dug her grave and took her body out there. She was wrapped up, but I could still feel some warmth from her, which helped my numbed fingers. Even in death she was caring for me. Years before I had been in the hospital for a week and had missed all of the cats terribly. When I got home, I know I reeked of human vet things, and none of the cats would come near me. For the first time during my entire ordeal, I sat down and wept even though I knew why they were avoiding me and would come after I removed all traces of the hospital. While I sat there, Lucy came and sat beside me on the arm of the chair and rubbed her head against my arm and purred.

Blackie was the third of Woodee’s kittens. He was a good sized cat but quite gentle, and he loved every cat he ever met. He had a tough side as well and was the only cat who could stop Brite Eyes in her tracks when she got into a chasing mood. He did it with a look, which is hard to describe. It wasn’t a glare but was very stony and determined. No cat messed with him when he gave that look. After Junior died, Blackie became the one who slept against me. In the fall of 2013, he began to lose weight even though he had a good appetite. Blood work revealed no problem. The weight loss continued even though it was gradual. Then he began to refuse to be held in one’s arms, something he had always loved. I knew then something was seriously wrong, but no one knew what at that point. By late November the cause had revealed itself. He had cancer at the top of his stomach, and it was very aggressive. On December 1 he was helped to the Bridge.

Now eight of the Gang of Ten live only in my heart, but two are still physically with me. One is Woodee, and the other is her sister Prudence. She was the runt of the litter and the one Guy had watched over. She has been very slender all her life, and she was devastated when Guy died. I feared for her if she wouldn’t eat and didn’t want to end up having to force feed her, so I kept talking to her about becoming friends with sweet Blackie. He was willing and it didn’t take long for her to consider him as her best friend. They went everywhere together and ate at the same time even though they often inadvertently butted heads over the bowl or plate. When Blackie had to leave us, Prudence turned to the humans for comfort. We are a poor second to Guy or Blackie, but we are enough to keep her going. She sleeps on top of me at night while Woodee has become the one who sleeps pressed against me. They are eighteen now, and I know every second with them is a gift. I don’t even want to think about how things will be when they have to leave.

 

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Caption This Photo for International Polar Bear Day!

Hi Burgers,

If you’ll kindly join us in celebrating the Lord of the Arctic this Friday by taking part in the following caption contest, that would be lovely. Don’t worry if your caption is polarizing either, you might still make the top posts on Monday, even if it’s just bearly.

Cue the facepawlm.

We’re teaming up with The Nature Conservancy to celebrate International Polar Bear Day on February 27! Advocates for these amazing creatures highlight today as a chance to celebrate Nanuk, as the Inuits say, as well as a day of action to reduce carbon emissions. You can check out some of the latest science on polar bears here.

Join us in honoring the Lord of the Arctic by captioning this photo! We’ll gather submissions until Friday 2/27 and post the top submissions on Monday 3/2.

If you’re brain is feeling a little frozen, be sure to check out all the submissions that have been posted so far!

Creativity can strike anywhere, so if you happen to get your best ideas while grocery shopping or ice fishing, submit your caption via the Cheezburger app!

 

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Borrow My Doggy is Not a Dating Website for Dogs

Hi Burgers,
I came across this on my meanderings today.

Have you guys heard of this service? Borrow My Doggy sounds better than any dating site could ever be, you get to find a best bud to hang with! Besides, who really needs humans anyway? I mean, besides for the can opening thing.

Has anyone ever tried this? Why don’t we have it in the US?

Some of the comments in this particular post were pretty awesome too.

I thought at first this was a site for people that wanted to date dogs… this is much more appropriate.

News report: a strange rise in dog abductions…

I really like this, I don’t want the responsibility of owning a dog, but would like to occasionally lease one. Like doggy time share.

That’s pretty cool! It looks like you walked him right into a mudhole, hahaha! Neat-o.

Cheers,
Evan

 

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Always Eat Before You Gif-Together

Hi Burgers,

I got a new phone, botched the alarm because apparently I forgot how to use the most basic phone tool since the calculator, overslept and forgot to eat breakfast. A few people around me are eating and so…

I’m off to early lunch before I steal something.

What are you guys up to?

I like to eat WHILE I Gif-Together.

mamawalker

You don’t want to eat alone do you?

Chris10a

Done ate. Now I sparkle….

MessiahMews

Always Gif-Together Before You Eat

ani.s4

What yoo meen dis no fudz!?

It’s a wrap!

Toolbee

“Hey Evan! Is that you?”

anselmbe

And here I thought I got away with it…

imagesimages1

 

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Sauerkraut Eying the Throne

Hi Burgers,

Two quick things today everyone. First, have you all heard of Sauerkraut? She is working her way up the Internet Fame ladder using the same frozen frowning facial expression technique as the one and only Tardar Sauce.

She also wears clothes to help with her feline hyperesthesia adding a feels element to her already magnetic mystique. Check her out!


Is Sauerkraut Vying With Grumpy Cat for the Internet Throne?

What do you guys think? Battle to the nope or would these two most likely snuggle up for a nap together if they met?

Second, check out these Cheez shoes that someone in our office had specially made!

i.chzbgr-1i.chzbgr-2i.chzbgr

We can has Cheez Force Ones?

Cheers,
Evan

 

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Featured Fur Monsters: Ted Has Excellent Adventures

Hi Burgers,

This week Jadzia23 shares the story of her little dude, Ted. He has a personal stylist in her pup Coco and a penchant for window blinds.

Featured Fur Monster: Ted Knows How to Get Your Attention

Stay classy Ted.

Cheers,
Evan

 

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