June 10, 2016

My Blog Has New Address

Hi Pals!

My blog has relocated to a Wordpress address.

You can still go to www.Wonderpurr.com and find me. You might see www.KimberleyKoz.com pop up when you type in Wonderpurr, but don't fweak out. I'm there, front and center. Mom's author website and my blog are sharing the same site, so it makes it easy on everyone who follows us.

I hope you enjoy my new career as Sherlock Herms Purranormal Investigator.

Thank you for following me.

Purrs! Herman +Herman TattleCat

June 13, 2015

Blogpaws 2015 Nashville - Finale!

As unnatural as it is for a cat to think about someone other than himself, as Blogpaws 2015 Nashville was winding down, I took a moment to observe the hoomons who attended this conference for the sole purpose of making life better for us fur kids. A lot of energy went into the planning and execution of workshops, meals, goodie bags, brochures, the Exhibit Hall, and so so much more. The BlogPaws team, along with a great bunch of Volunteers, did such a wonderpurr job, I'd like you all to take a minute and check them out. Maybe even say 'Thank mew!'

Chloe DiVita: Director of Events & Programs (wuv your ear stritches)
Tom Collins: Director of Education, Development & Recruiting
Carol Bryant – BlogPaws Marketing and PR Manager (my apologies for hissing at Dexter)
Felissa Elfenbein –Blogger Outreach and Communications Manager
Robbi Hess – Senior Editor and Blog Manager (purrrr)
Yvonne DiVita, BlogPaws CEO

On Caturday I accompanied my pawrents to workshops, and schmoozed the crowd wif my usual charm. It doesn't take much for me to be charming.
Oops! I meant to show this one...
New friend Christina Lisk

I was happy to make new furends...
 And connect with possible long-lost brofur, Romeo the Cat, who lives with Caroline Golon.
You wouldn't think wheeling around in my tricked out Ride in an air conditioned hotel would be taxing...

...but it was...
 ...so I retired to my suite several times to catch my breath, along with a cat nap.
Finally, it was time for the Nose to Nose Awards Banquet and for me to walk the red carpet. Last year I surprised my pawrents by insisting I could walk the red carpet on my own four paws, even though I'd spent the conference feeling sick, plus I'd never walked on a leash before that weekend.

I hadn't been on a leash since Vegas, but I was determined to show everyone that I could do it again.

And so I did.

*Takes bow* Thank mew! Thank mew!

My bestie PepperPom and her mom Angel looked spectacular, as usual.

At the banquet everyone gathered to celebrate the pet bloggers nominated for this year's Nose to Nose Awards. Before the ceremony began, while the hoomons were chatting and nomming, a big screen showed photos taken by the pawpawrazzi throughout the conference. Guess who got his handsome mug up on the screen several times...

After the awards were given out, Chloe announced there were several acknowledgements who had received a certificate of excellence for blogging. Me and mom both gasped in unison when we heard our beloved friend Nerissa The Cat and his mom, Jennifer Niemi, was the recipient.

Concatulations Niss and Mom. We are truly proud of your success.

And so, as the conference drew to a close, I bid a sad farewell to my friends. But I will see you next year because I'm going to Phoenix!

June 12, 2015

Blogpaws 2015 Part 2

I mentioned in my last post that I had attended BlogPaws 2015 in Nashville with my pawrents, and just when I was done wif pawpawrazzi, barking, and camera flashes, Mom took me to Kate Benjamin's Cat Lounge located in a quiet corner of the Exhibit Hall.

There...I saw her. And she was Bee-U-tee-ful!
 A glorious climbing tree by @PetTreeHouse. I was over the moon, I tell you. Over. The Moon!
 I couldn't decide what to do first.
 Since there wasn't that many cats at BlogPaws the tree smelled pretty nice.

My new friend Christina Lisk hung out with me, singing Herman's Hermits songs while mom shopped in the Cat Lounge. Then it occurred to me that maybe she might not realize how much I wuvved this @PetTreeHouse.

 So I decided to send a big hint to Santa Paws...just in cased Mom mucked up.
I started to wind down shortly after playing on the wonderpurr cat tree.

In fact I could barely hold my head up...
Or eat my noms, courtesy of Weruva.
I couldn't even read the book my new friend Peter Shankman gave me.
I needed my beauty rest because the next day was going to be super busy.
The Nose to Nose Awards Dinner was Caturday night, and I planned to walk the red carpet on my leash.
Stay tuned...

June 11, 2015

BlogPaws 2015 a Wonderpurr Success

Well, I did it. I crushed another Blogpaws under my paws. This time I went to Nashville with my mom. Dad followed in his POS van a couple days later.

That's what my mom calls it. I'm just repeating her verbiage.

What I want to celebrate is that this time I didn't get sick. Remember I felt pretty awful while at Blogpaws Vegas. I even had to go to the emergency for a poo-enhancing afternoon. But that's all behind me...literally.

You may have heard I am moving to Wordpress soon. But until then I wanted you to see the pawtographs taken in Nashville.

So without further a-mew...here they are!

May 28, 2015

Sneaky Pre-mew of Sherlock Herms: Purranormal Detective Mystery Series

Grrreat things come to those who wait. And wait...and wait...and... *Tapping impatient paw* When is my new website gonna get launched, you ask? When it's durn good 'n ready, my mom tells me.

 We've been super busy getting a new book finished, and also doing book signings for Finding Mya. Plus, there is a lot more exciting stuff going on at my house, but you'll have to wait to find out what that is.

Anyway... because we are here in Nashville at BlogPaws 2015...we decided to launch a pre-mew of something super exciting that will appear weekly on our new website:

Sherlock Herms™
Purranormal Mystery Series

Available August 2015

Herman @TattleCat has a Wonderpurr life with a huge following on Twitter and Facebook, plus he is the star of Finding Mya.

When author Kimberley Koz decides to write mysteries, Herm is worried. Will he lose his position as her mews because he knows nuffin’ about solving mysteries?

Herman decides to opens the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. While waiting for his first case, his little sisfur Dori demands he let her play detective too, or she will give him a migraine. Plus his brothers have turned his Gen7Pets stroller into a tricked out Ride with a dazzling control panel, but no instructions on how to work it.

Then Herman gets his first case, but he isn’t allowed to leave the yard! No problem. Using Jackson Galaxy’s Cat-Crawl tunnel as a magical portal, Herman and Dori travel out of their yard, out of their neighborhood...and out of this century to take on their 1st Big Caper.

Published for the purrrst time ever

The 1st Big Caper - Part 1

The Wonderpurr Detective Agency had been open for business all of twenty minutes, but my
phone hadn’t rung once. I flicked my floofy tail with impatience. How long would I have to wait before someone hired me to solve a big caper?
It all began a couple nights ago when Mom and I were wide awake cuz Dad was snoring Classic 70’s rock songs in his sleep. We ended up in front of the teevee watching a documentary on famous detectives. Mom told me to pay close attention. She had decided to write mysteries. She seemed pretty set on doing it. That made me nervous.
I’m her mews, you see. I inspire her when she writes novels. I even starred in ‘Finding Mya’ for her. But how could I inspire her when I don’t know nuffin’ about mystery solving? If I fell down on the job, she might ask one of my fursibs to be her mews—like my arch-nemesis Opie. He’s also my brofur.
With that in mind, I paid close attention to the documentary featuring Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe, Mike Hammer, Dick Tracy, Charlie Chan, and the husband and wife team, Nick and Nora Charles. My purrrsonal favorites were Spade and Marlowe for their hardboiled detective lingo, and Sherlock Holmes for his use of logical reason to solve cases. Plus I liked his hat.
I began to pace. Mom’s romantical comedy, ‘Mad Fling’, was almost finished. I needed experience solving crime capers. Now. Before she started plotting her first mystery. But what if no one hired me? Ever. I’d be washed up before the sun set on my first day as a hardboiled detective. Plus I’d be out of a job as a purrfessional mews.
On Google I read that when you’re a detective, privacy is extremely important. I needed an office with at least one window, a place nobody else used so I could detect in peace. And the room couldn’t make my meow echo, in case someone eavesdropped on my meetings. I’d had my heart set on an office in a dingy building, slowly collapsing under the weight of time and despair, but I couldn’t afford one of those. Until I got clients who paid me cold hard cash–preferably quarters since they’re bigger than pennies and dimes–I was stuck doing business in our house attic next to my mom’s author-office. Handy, but so not cool.
Overnight I’d set up the kind of office Detectives Spade and Marlowe would envy with traps for criminals and secret places to stash my detecting gadgets. My desk is huge with lots of nooks and crannies. It came with my office. Actually, it came with the house. It’s too big to get through the door without chopping to pieces. Mom says our home was built around an older house that refused to let anyone tear it down. Happily my desk is next to a window so I can clearly see my suspects’ expressions of guilt while I questioned them. I also had a snake-necked lamp to shine blindly into their eyes during interrogation. I’d hung a bell over my door so no one could sneak up on me, and tacked a measuring tape from top to bottom to tell how tall my clients were, in case they turned out to be suspects. I’d even sprinkled talcum powder on the floor to trap paw prints. I still needed a camera and a coffee maker, cuz detectives drink a lot of coffee, but I couldn’t afford either of them, yet.
As I waited for my first client, I pictured my office with a finished floor and walls separating the open space into rooms. But nothing real nice since I’m a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood. Why wasn’t my phone ringing? The world is full of despurration and despair. Surely someone needed a caper solved. I didn’t have all day to wait. I’m on the 8th of my 9 lives. Plus, as the sun hovered at high noon, the attic—I mean, my office—had turned steamy hot.
I tugged at my collar with its silver and orange enamel ‘H’ charm. I pictured Mom writing in her air-conditioned office with sunlight warming her African violets. I put my nose to the door crack to inhale the fragrance of lemony sunlight puddling on the buttery carpet in front of her desk. I loved that sun puddle. So much! I also loved air conditioning. I wondered if Dad would growl if I clawed holes in the door’s coffin-like wood so some of that A/C could seep into my office. What I really wanted was a frosted glass door wif Wonderpurr Detective Agency in foil block letters, but Mom said “Ask your dad,” and Dad said, “What? No!”
Maybe if I sniffed enough A/C my insides would chill and make me comfortapurr. I snuffled harder at the crack. A faint fishy odor seeped into my nostrils, followed by a loud BURP. A thrill skittered through me. My first client had arrived.
I opened the door to see my little sisfur, Adorapurr. She wore her rainbow pawty collar and held a box of cat treats. At first I thought she had brought me an office-warming pawsent. Instead she broke into a commercial.

Smittens treats are made by The Honest Kitchen. They are cute, heart-shaped and crunchy, all very impawtent to me. They are also 100% grain-free, made from pure, wild, line-caught Haddock from the pristine waters off the coast of Iceland, all very impawtent to my meowmy.”

“I understand these tweats are made wif no fillers or by-products. Just pure 100% dehydrated Haddock, packaged in the U.S.A. The Honest Kitchen didn’t get its name by being sneaky, and that’s the troof!”
“I’d like to thank the Academy… I mean, Chewy.com for sending me dis package of Smittens. Eating Smittens tweats is like a pawty in my mouf. Smittens also makes my tummy happy. If you want a pawty in your happy tummy, visit Chewy.com and tell them Dori sent you.”
 “Are you going to share wif me, or snarf them all yourself?” I asked her.
She hugged the box to her chest. “Mine.”
“What do you want, Dori?”
“Mommy said I can pway detective, too.”
The fur bristled under my collar. “I’m not playing detective. I’m a hardboiled private investigator. And no. You can’t play— I mean, be a detective, too.”
Her eyes narrowed. I’d seen that look right before I got a headache. She claims she can give migraines just by thinking one into your head, and I believe her. But then, her eyes filled with tears. Oh no. I’d rather have a migraine.
“Meowmy,” she yowled. “Hwermie won’t let me pway detective.”
“Let her play, Herms,” Mom called from her desk. “Please? I’m plotting.”
Plotting! Had she started mystery writing wif out me?
Dori pushed past me. I told her, “Don’t make anything crash.” She’s clumsy. She climbs stuff and stuff breaks. Since she joined our family, Mom has had trouble focusing on novel writing. Between mew and I, she hasn’t written much beside a grocery list in months. She’s always getting up to see what Dori destroyed.
“Dibs!” She jumped onto my desk, knocking my cup of purrrple crayons to the floor. Several disappeared into the cracks, never to be seen again.
“That’s my desk.” I grabbed my piggy bank before it crashed, too. “You sit there.” I pointed to a storage bin.
She crawled on top of it. “Hwermie, why do yoo haz a piggy bank on your desk?”
“To remind clients to pay me.” I checked my pocket watch. I don’t have pockets and I can’t tell time, plus the watch doesn’t work, but it adds to my mystique. My whiskers sensed I’d been open for business a full thirty minutes. Was I dried up before I got washed behind the ears? A failure? A has been? A never was? I didn’t want to be just another ordinary cat…although with my looks and purrrsonality that will never happen. Still. I wanted to do something important with what was left of my 9 Lives. I wanted to help my mom solve mysteries, like Sherlock Holmes.
“What’s that?” Dori pointed to the corner where I’d arranged a couch and chair wif a lamp and table spread with much-read copies of my favorite magazines.
“That’s where I will interrogate suspects,” I told her. “I’ll let them get comfortapurr, and then hit ’em wif hard questions. And while I’m waiting for my first client, I can read American Songwriter—you know I haz an ear for mewsic—and also American Trucker. I wuv trucks. Especially big red semis.”
She shook her head. “No. I mean that box thingy sucking on the wall plug.”
I squinted through the attic shadows to see what she referred to. “Oh. That’s my CritterZoneAir Naturalizer. I got it last year when I was at Blogpaws in Vegas.”

Dori sniffed the box. “What does it do?”
“It attacks germs, bacteria, dust particles and neutralizes the coughy, sneezy, itchy-eye stuff in the air.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Absolutely. You know how miserable our pawrents get during allergy season. Me too. My eyes get runny and turn crusty. But CritterZone Air Naturalizer reactivates indoor air, and helps it to clean itself. Just like if we lived outdoors with sunshine and summery breezes. It breaks down every day air contaminants and magically turns them into clean-smelling oxygen.”
“What are con-tammy-ants?”
“Dad’s gardening shoes. Wet towels. Garbage. Litter box poo.”
Dori’s eyes widened with amazement. “Weally? Maybe we should plug it into Fwank and Opie’s pa-tooties.” She giggled behind her paw.
I started to laugh, then coughed, because I remembered I was supposed to be a hardboiled detective. In the documentary I hadn’t seen Sam Spade or Sherlock Holmes crack so much as a smirk. “What’s truly great about CritterZone Air Naturalizer is that it cleans up to 800 square feet wif out filters or chemicals. Nothing more to buy. You just need to clean it every two weeks, but that’s pretty simple. Especially when it helps eliminate odors along with mold spores and other nasties that can harm those of us wif asthma and allergies.”
Dori petted the softly humming unit. “But Hwermie, why do you have one in here? Your office smells good.”
I thrust out my floofy chest. “Why does the Wonderpurr Detective Agency have a CritterZone Air Naturalizer? Because, Dori…crime stinks.”

Suddenly the phone rang. I was so surprised I just stared at it. Dori pounced. “Wonderpurr Detective Agency. Detective Adorapurr speaking. How may I help mew?”
I reached to take the phone. It was my office, after all. She turned her back on me. All I could hear was her side of the conversation. “Mmmm. Oh my. Weally?” She began to pace, winding the phone cord around both of us until we were bound together like the legs of a store-bought chicken. I put my ear against the phone in time to hear the caller say, “I’m willing to pay cold hard cash. I’m desperate.”
“Despurrate is good,” Dori said, more to me than the caller. “We charge fifty cents.”
Fifty cents. I felt my eyes go round like two huge quarters. Cold Hard Cash!
“I’ll pay you double to solve this mystery,” the caller shouted. “Today.”
I gasped. Double? As in… Hm.
+ 50₵
(Cats don’t do math)
“That’s too much,” Dori told him. “This is our first case. We might suck.”
I would have slapped my paw over my eyes if I’d been able to move my arms.
“Fifty cents is to be paid up front before we begin,” Dori told our first client. “Give me the address.”
We hobbled over to my desk where she smacked a floor board with her foot and a purrrple crayon jumped out of the crack. I worked a paw free and wrote down the address she meowed out loud for me.
She hung up. “Let’s go. Daylight is burning.”
“We can’t take this case. We aren’t allowed to leave the yard, let alone the country.”
A knock made us hobble over to open the door. There stood my ginger-furred arch-nemesis-slash-brofur, Opie. “I suppose Mom is making me let you ‘pway’ detective, too,” I growled.
He elbowed past me followed by our tabby brofur Jack, pushing my mint chip colored Gen7PetsRegal stroller. It looked different. “What did you do to my Ride?”
“We heard you got your first case,” Jack said, “and needed transportation to get there.”
“I can’t go. It’s too far.”
“He’s got purrformance anxiety.” Dori rolled her eyes. “Untie us, pwease.”
Opie ripped the phone cord. Dori and I spun like twin yo yo’s. I think she even performed ‘Walking the Dog.’
“We took the liberty of adding a few gizmo’s to your buggy.” Jack unzipped the hood. I was happy to see my mint chip cushion with my pink and green striped pillow were still there, as I like to ride in comfort. Then he swatted the pillow aside to reveal a control panel with a scary array of buttons.
“Purrrrty.” Dori reached for the pink one.
Opie slapped her paw. “Don’t touch.”
In a flash, she wrassled him to the floor. Over their loud grunting and growling, Jack explained the panel, but because Opie was grunting and Dori was growling, the only thing I heard him say was, “Whatever you do, don’t touch the pink button. Unless it’s an emergency.” He punched me in the shoulder. “And don’t stare at the buttons.”
“What kind of an emergency?” I rubbed my shoulder. “What happens if I stare?”
“Bunny KICK!” Dori punted Opie in his belly. He banked off the wall with a thud.
“Behave,” Mom shouted from her office. “Don’t make me get my squirt gun.”
We rolled our eyes. She never uses it, just picks it up.
Dori adjusted her rainbow pawty collar. “Gotta leave now. Before dark.” She crouched in front of Mom’s research library in the corner to paw through books.
“Why before dark? Will there be vampires?” I laughed.
Jack removed a purrrple nylon mesh ring from my stroller’s storage compartment. He pulled a string and it popped into a dazzling tunnel.
“Cool!” I meowed. “What is that?”
JacksonGalaxy’s Cat-Crawl, with slight modification. I’ll explain later…if you return.”
I swallowed hard. “If?”
Jack gestured to the H on my collar. “Your bling is the key to your Ride.” He pointed to the H impression at the top of the panel. “Touch your charm here. Then meow the location and date, and paw the button that lights up.”
“Date?” I repeated.
Dori climbed into my stroller with a book under her arm. “Let’s roll.”
“You’re not going. I’m the hardboiled detective. Not you.”
Her eyes teared. Jack and Opie zoomed for the door. “Herms!” Mom shouted. “Let her play.”
I growled under my bref, “Sam Spade didn’t take his little sisfur on capers.” I touched my H charm to the control panel. The buttons lit up. Pale at first, then gradually stronger with dazzling brightness. So dazzling, I couldn’t stop staring. I was fascinated. Entranced. Awe-struck. Hypnotized. Captivated even…
Dori meowed the location and date. Not this country. Not this year. Back in time.
My Ride shivered, then quivered. When it began to shake like wet dog, I yowled, “Maybe we should put the hood up.” We were now bouncing around like a couple of LOTTO balls, so hard my office looked blurry. The purrrple Galaxy Cat-Crawl tunnel seemed to glow in the attic’s shadowy darkness. In fact, it looked like it was growing bigger…or maybe we were shrinking smaller. Either way, my buggy was rolling toward it, as though being sucked inside.
Then, just as we zipped the hood into place, the door burst open. Opie and Jack rushed in, waving their paws. Despite the bouncing and the blurring I could see the fur on their backs stood straight up.
“Stop!” Jack yowled. “I forgot to tell you—”
Then he was gone. And Opie was gone.
So was my huge desk, my interrogation corner, my piggy bank and my collection of trucker and songwriter magazines.
Everything was gone!

Stay Tuned for Part 2

 New Website Launch debute: August 2015
KimberleyKoz.com / Wonderpurr.com

In meantime, follow us!

Romantical comedy
Coming August 2015

Coming November 2015

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