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Fur Children

Wildcat Canyon Liquors has always been about family. We have always welcomed well- behavin' fur children in our store. I bring my kids to work and many employees have opted to do the same. It makes for a happier day when you can share your work-load with those you love.

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Heidi

The biggest fur-child was Heidi. Shortly after buying the store in 1999, I also purchased a house in Rafter J. The house came with a 10-year-old, 170 pound, pure bred, St. Bernard...and a pair of cats too. Heidi wasn't much for riding in cars until I adopted Bones in February of 2000. That puppy must have told Heidi some glorious stories, because one day I came out of the house to see Heidi had loaded herself up into the driver's seat of the truck to join me at work.

Her health turned around immediately for the better. She was happy and energetic; almost like the puppy in her I never had a chance to see. She loved coming to work to receive the love (or sheer fear) of our patrons. She had 3 favorite jobs at work: patrolling the parking lot during rush-hour with her deep, slow bark; hassling John, the delivery driver, for more cheese sticks; and laying down in the most inconvenient place possible just so someone would have to step over her and feel compelled to pet her.

It was your love that kept her going as her health began to fade. She came to Wildcat everyday until her death in October of 2002 at the age of 13 1/2.

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Bones

Bones was the one who started the fur-family at Wildcat. I saw her in a shopping cart with eleven other puppies at the Wal-Mart one winter day. It was one of those days where you went in for 3 things and came out with 5, but only one of the things you needed... Then on my third trip back out, she was the last one; the only black dog in a litter of cappuccino-colored Heeler mixes, and these girls who lived on campus were ready to take her home. Well I snatched her right out her right out of their hands figuring I could get her a good home on a ranch rather than pick her up at the pound in a few weeks when the girls get caught with a puppy. No chance. That little pot-bellied pig looking thing was mine in less than an hour. She weighed about 5 pounds and was just a bit bigger than her head is today. She had these cute little white fur lines on her paws...so I named her Bones. She had an affinity for humping things as a pup so she earned the nickname "Boner."

Over the next 10 years Bones has been at my side for almost every round of Disc Golf I have ever played. She has good course etiquette until she gets tired. She is quite the "Bonedini" when it comes to escaping the confines of the Truck while I play 3+ hour long competitions all over the region. My competitors used to see her coming out of nowhere looking for me and spook me with a "Boo" so that nickname ended up sticking too.

Bonsey has a pretty bad case of separation anxiety. She gets over it eventually, after she has eaten everything fathomable out of the trash...double-checking her work by spreading it evenly throughout the room, shredding all laundry in her reach, and exhausting all escape options...she can open double locked sliders with broom handle back-up! Humping the hills around here huckin' the 'bee has taken a toll on the old "Bone Dogger," so I recently retired from my weekly play so we can both lay around the house getting fat and planning the next Benefit Disc Golf Tournament for 4 Corners Area Discers.

She loves to "patrol" the Twin Buttes trail by barking at everything and everyone that moves out there. She will still bark at most trucks...all trucks have dogs, right? Her arthritis is too severe to do much jumping, so your Porsche is safe in the lot once again.

After 13 years and a few incidents with bumpers later, she has earned the name "Grandma Dog." She has slowed down quite a bit, but she is still as loving an loyal as ever. A few treats will make her putty in your hands...no, not really, she will just stick around until she figures out that you have nothing left for her to snack on. But that's what makes her MY DOG!

Sadly, Bones left this Earthly plane on Wednesday morning, August 27, 2014. She was a fighter until the end. Now she frolics, pain-free, and amongst all the pack that went before her, on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. I miss you Baby Dog, and the "poo-poo-putters."

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Diva

Our Bayou Bitch, our Cajun Queen, Ivana Hump-a-lot or you can just call her Diva Katrina.

Rescuers found her swimming in 6 feet of contaminated water more than a week after Katrina hit the Gulf Shore...she won't go near water now. 4 Families had adopted and returned her before she picked me out at an adopt-a-thon...yes, she picked me. Diva was scared of men, loud noises, crowds & large hats. She came to us with a shattered canine, one in dire need of repair, and at least 16 teeth that had been kicked in by her original owner.

Her first Ska-B-Q was spent under my truck, now she leads the pack! It was more than 5 months before she stopped peeing on the floor when she heard a loud noise, but she was only with us a little over a week before she stole her first meal. I was a bit late catching her in the walk-in cooler snagging a Dungeness Crab leg. She scampered away and demonstrated true Cajun shellfish extraction skills as she pulled it apart in mere moments.

While we made the effort to repair her teeth, her memory is alive and a blind pet on the butt will earn you a growl and a snap. She didn't bite you...she only gummed you if you were slow, remember she only has 2 teeth! Just don't surprise her and everyone will get along just fine.

The scars on her nose?? The stitched scar is from a tumor extraction. The other is from that fateful Saturday when she humped the wrong bitch and that bitch caught her across the nose. I was already 12K in on this pedigree mutt so there was no way I was paying for an emergency visit. It stopped bleeding - no biggie.

She is a true joy in our lives and patience will earn you her good graces as well. Her favorite toy is any dog she can get a hump on and her favorite snack is fresh cat "tootsie rolls." Please don't bring any of those, Guinness provides an ample supply.

We found a tumor in Diva's throat on June 5, 2014. I thought I was just taking her in to have a bum tooth removed. There was no defeating this, so her dad & I treated the infection in hopes that it would bring her back some "good days." Indeed she bounced back, and enjoyed several weeks as her "old self," but the tumor was aggressive, and she left this Earthly plane just ahead of Bones, on August 27, 2014. I miss you Doodle-Butt.

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Los Tres Gatitos

The kittens came to be with us in July of 2006. They were all 9 weeks old and barley 2 lbs each. Mary & I searched many times for the right kittens, but kept coming up empty. Too aloof, too long-hair, too sleepy, too old (I needed kittens so I could train them AWAY from top shelf liquor,) too pre-occupied...well you get the picture. On July 25, 2006 we were looking again to no avail when one of the shelter workers asked if we saw the kittens in the "dog hallway." I'm looking for kittens, why would I go down the hallway? Well, we did, and the moment we did, kittens soon to be known as "Black & Tan" sat up and purred so loud we could hear them down the hall!

I only wanted 2 kittens for pest control, but I'm no home-wrecker so I returned to the shelter to reunite Harp, the kitten who slept through the whole adoption process in the poop box, with his brother and sister. No longer were they "Black & Tan." They were now "Bass, Harp & Guinness."

The kids thrived here. They would soak the sun in distant corners of the store when they wanted privacy and sprawl on the counter when they wanted your love. They would have vertical crits in the storage room every night, running lap after lap through the tall and short of the beer stacks. Yet through all that activity, they have cost me less than $300 in breakage! And I have never known cats to be as touchy-feely as this bunch. They require at least 28 solid hours of human contact a week...it's a good thing we are open for 80!

liquor store durangoThough Bass was the first one with a confirmed kill, it was Harp who supplemented his feed bag with daily fresh kills. If he heard it, he would stalk it. I he saw it, it was dead! Harp is the only reason my garden could thrive. Those gophers never stood a chance! The trio would perform group stalks in the early evening on the front lawn, taking turns trapping the prey. It was so much fun to watch!

Harp never forgot that I went back to get him at the shelter. He was my best little buddy until his death on his 4th birthday. He would sit on my lap as I toiled away in the cold office with only a space heater on my feet. He would always greet me and purr for me before he ate his meals. He was the best hunter of the bunch. He died in my arms after over-shooting his prey and stepping into rush-hour traffic on May 12, 2010.

Bass had left for the day the night Harp died. He came back the next morning and left again shortly thereafter, franticly searching for his brother. After months of searching and false sightings, we assume that Bass has found a new home either in this world or another. Guinness was distraught for many weeks, but has eventually settled into her luxurious life, basking alone in the spotlight. By far the most touchy-feely of the bunch, she mounts her perch everyday seeking your strokes of love.

As for pest control, Guinness does the bare minimum to fulfill her role. As long as there is no unpleasant evidence of an invasion anywhere, I suppose she is doing a good enough job. She is much happier eating her daily handfuls of treats from all y'all than seeking prey. She will only make an effort after I trim her feedings for several days...or if one walks right over her nose!


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