if cats looked the way they acted -


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:58, Reply)

Cats are rubbish....
....so here's a good dog story.

I woke up one morning to the sound of my brother howling with laughter. I went downstairs to find him in the kitchen with tears running down his face, hyperventilating and pointing, pathetically, out of the window.

I looked out, couldn't see anything, so I went outside, brother followed.

My neighbours then came through her garden gate and said:

"I've got something that belongs to you"

And from round her legs, my little dog Patchie follows with a big shit-eating grin on his face that says:

"Guess where I've been?"

My brother, in his infinite wisdom, had tied Patchie's favourite toy to the washing line with an old lead.

Patchie decided to try and get his toy back by pulling at it.

The washing line wouldn't give, and the old lead wouldn't give, this resulted in a rather spectacular catapault effect, twanging the dog clear over a 6 foot fence.

Which is what my brother was laughing at.

I can only imagine what my neighbour thought when she saw a small ball of white fur rocketing across her garden then getting up and peeing on her herb garden.

Lil' Patch isn't around anymore, but he really was the funniest dog ever, and that story still has my brother wetting his pants every time you remind him of it.

There may be more Patch stories later if I can write them in such a way as to do him justice.
(Jugular, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:56, Reply)

When I was about 4,
I won a goldfish at the fair.
I had no tank, or any fish looking-after equipment, but was well excited.
On the way home, my uncle chucked it out of the sunroof :(
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:53, Reply)

Memories...
I had a great one. Black ink and a clicky top...


Oh, PET stories. Nevermind.
(Jizzbiscuits-Murphy wroted this on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:50, Reply)

next door had a viscious dog
years ago, and one day it went mental, jumped the hedge and leapt at my dad,

he whipped its front paws apart, killing it instantly.

next door never had any more pets as far as i recall.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:49, Reply)

The old adage about council flats proved incorrect
It was my sisters sixth birthday and she got a kitten from my parents. She was over the crescent moon. I was sent to bed for being a naughty boy so missed seeing the action but I did hear it. What I heard was the following

My sister:'Wheee! Whee!

The Kitten:'miAAAwww! miAAAwww!'

For a couple of minutes this continued. Then I heard my mother

'What the hell are you doing?!' SMACK!

Tears and crying from my sister as she runs into our room and dives underneath the bed covers.

turns out that in her eagerness to play with her new pet my beloved sister had got a coathanger, tucked the hook into the kittens collar and proceeded to SWING the petrified moggy around the room, 'Because I thought she would like it'.

Which just goes to show that in Hackney council flats -regardless of what the residents say- there is enough room to swing a cat.

It has been not so scientifically proven by my family.
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:47, Reply)

Mighty Mouse
When i was 8 i got a mouse, appropriately nicknames "Mighty". My little brother and sister, 3 & 4, used to love it and play with it, but everytime i even touched it, it would bear its teeth and bite me, the little bastard.

Anyway, fast forward a few weeks, and the mouse dies of an ear infection or something. (Its head was red with sores and seeping).
Cue me finding its limp body in the middle of the cage, and shouting my brother and sister down to see it.

Me: "Tom, Nikki, come down! The mouse is ill!
Bro: Whats wrong with it (poking it)
Sis: It's dead look at it.
Bro: How did it die?
Me: Well it bit me again, so i fucking hit it with a spade. (bear in mind the sores on its head made it look like a wound)

Cue mass tears and hysterics from my siblings, my mum rushing in to see them both wailing, me with a mischevious smile and a dead mouse with what appears to be a headwound.

Needless to say i got absolutely twatted for it.
(TinyDinosaur, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:45, Reply)

Fat Harry
My mum's best friend used to have an adorable, enormously fat ginger cat called Harry. She was in a band called Fat Harry, named after him.

One day, Harry got run over.

Her husband suggested that they renamed the band "Flat Harry".
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:43, Reply)

Killer bunny
When I was a child, I was the proud owner of the most psychotic rabbit the world had ever seen.

She was extremely territorial over her hutch, her food bowl, everything. She was also a bit thick, and hadn't worked out that when you removed the food bowl from the hutch in the morning, it was odds on that within five minutes it would return with food in it. Therefore, in order to remove said food bowl without losing an arm, you had to don a pair of heavy-duty elbow-length gardening gloves and hope for the best. She'd start growling as soon as you came within a few feet of the hutch (oh yes, growling!) and by the time you'd actually opened the door and reached in there, all hell would have broken loose.

Remember the killer rabbit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Scarier.

Anyway, my parents were quite keen on letting my killer rabbit run around their garden. This was partly because of her habit of annihilating dandelions, but mostly because of her ability to beat up cats.

We used to have a major problem with cats climbing the fence into our garden and shitting in the flowerbeds. Within weeks of letting this hardcore bunny out of its run, the neighbourhood cats were all steadfastly avoiding our garden. Think about it - if you were minding your own business taking a crap and some vicious furry creature came up and savaged you, you wouldn't go back to that toilet, would you?

Killer bunny died at the age of three after trying to take on a fox. I'm actually surprised she didn't win the fight.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:37, Reply)

Oliver the Burmese...
Oliver was a Burmese cat but, in spite of the snip, was as butch as they come - always fighting and was eventually was sent to live with a pensioner near a farm as he was "marking territory" by spraying the skirting boards. Nice. Great smell.

Anyhoo, one Sunday night the family were all slumped in front of the idiot's lantern (telly) when there was a weird clattering of the cat flap. It sounded like the cat flap was being removed by smashing against it with a distinctly non-cat object.

Dad opens the curtains to see Oliver heroically trying to enter house with a full size Sunday joint (uncooked, large).

Dad swiftly opens door, removes joint from seriously narked cat and dumps it in the bin before anyone notices.

Second tale - as previously mentioned, Oliver was a cat's cat. He was a bit of a bully really and terrorised the neighbourhood. For some unknown reason, Mrs Binty McBint, three doors down, buys a ginger kitten. All very cute.

"ding dong" - open door. Mrs McBint holding bloody ginger kitten in hands, just about breathing.

"Your cat did this."

"oh, I'm so sorry.."

"Not only did your cat do this, he came in my house, chased kitten into my bedroom and then beat the hell out of it."

"...ah."

This is why he was sent away - top cat but just the wrong side of wild for suburbia.

Pop!
(McVitie, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:37, Reply)

Cats
I fucking hate cats

one of the dozy fuckers that kept trying to come through our window in the middle of the night has moved away, and we got another one at half 4 this morning.

My missus ran and caught the bastard, threw it out the window and got back into bed, got up again to find that it was hanging from the open part of the window by it's claws

(this is a ground floor window, I may hate them, but we aren't cruel bastards)

there's no way cats are smarter than dogs. there's a big difference between being clever and acting on instinct, and cats are all instinct. no matter what anyone might say

this is an argument that irritates me as much as people saying cucumber has no taste.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:35, Reply)

THROW THE CAT!!!
.
This story sounds cruel, but it isn't.

When I lived in Manchester I used to visit a big students house out in the sticks. It was an old Victorian place with ceilings about 12 foot tall.

So I was sitting in one of the rooms, about 10 scruffy students lounging around me , when this cat appeared and jumped up onto my lap.

"THROW THE CAT!!!" the stoned students yelled.

"WTF?" - I couldn’t do that - that would be cruel. And the little ball of fluff sitting on my lap purred away and was kneading my leg with his paws.

So one of the students jumped up and picked up the cat, still purring, and hurled it full-length across the room towards the windows. Of course, the windows were covered by very thick, felt-type curtains and the cat landed, claws extended into the pile of the curtains. It quickly ran down the curtains and headed for me and jumped up into my lap again.

"THROW THE CAT!!!"

So I did. I tentatively lobbed the cat in a gentle parabola towards the curtains where, again, he made a purrfect (sorry) landing, ran down the curtains and jumped up on my lap again.

So that’s what I spent the next few hours doing. Throwing the cat. Once I got the idea that the cat positively loved this treatment, I kind of got into it. Lobs, left-hand spin, right-hand spin. Double and triple somersaults - this cat handled them all.

Eventually I had to move seats as I was bloody tired and somebody else took the cat-throwing seat.

Weird eh?

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:34, Reply)

Meh
I was once reprimanded in a swimming pool for being overly friendly with a young lady.

Oh, hang on, that's a petting story.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:32, Reply)

Noble and dignified creatures
I used to wonder why our pug and jack russell would watch intently whenever I approached the garbage disposal button. Turned out they would immediately head outside and wait next to the drain for the watery grey slurry of mulched food waste to come splurting out. They would then gobble as much as they could before retiring somewhere to vomit.
In addition, the pug was once arse-raped by the neighbour's toy poodle and seemed to enjoy it.
Dogs are disgusting.
(mudskipper, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:25, Reply)

My cat Geoff
in a similar vein to chthonic's story, my cat (Geoff, he was called this when we got him) is a fucking fat bastard. Seriously, other people's cats who they think are too fat look positively anorexic in comparison.

Geoff's obesity has affected the house in many ways, most of them breaking something in one way or another. Firstly, a perfectly good garden gate. Just by jumping on the top of it, completely buckled and destroyed.

Now poor Geoff is a bit self conscious about his weight. His coming and leaving the house through his catflap was never done when he thought anyone was watching, because anyone lucky enough to bear witness to the struggle would burst into fits of laughter. Geoff knows when people are laughing at him, and he doesn't like it.

One morning we came downstairs to find the catflap in several pieces and Geoff sitting beside it looking very embarrassed. He'd finally become so fat that the catflap had literally torn apart.

Anyway, we had to go out and buy Geoff a new catflap, for "the larger cat, or smaller dog". But poor Geoff still hasn't got over the embarrassment, and continues to only use the catflap when he's absolutely sure no one's watching.
( Damien's Hearse, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:20, Reply)

My friend used to have a cat
When she'd tell people this they'd say 'oh, did it die then?' and she'd say 'no, it blew away'.

It was out in the garden during the hurricane of '87, and they saw it sail away over the garden wall, never to be seen again.

She doesn't understand why other people find this hilarious.
(Pachey, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:16, Reply)

A fat ugly ignorant bitch of a woman
once encouraged her black labrador to chase our cat (the cat in the previous story who attacked any animal).

Said black lab went back after a short time to said fat ugly ignorant owner with blood streaming from a deep cut in its nose.

That taught her. (Wait a minute....wrong QotW)
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:13, Reply)

My next two cats
Sparky and Claude (also known asd clod, another story) were male cats we got from a rescue centre, but Sparky's real name was Jean. someone had named their cats after the fooking Muscles from Brussels, jesus wept!

Anyway, sparky and clod were nervous little things for about 6 months after we got them, then almost overnight turned into fat lapcats, around this period they also went gay.

Beforehand any cat wandering into their territory would be confronted by two evil fight machines, who would double team (sorry! poor van damme reference!) anything vaguely cat-like into a bloody mess, but no, they turned, was all very strange.

I would wake up and sometimes find three, yes three bags of purr on my bed hoping for some love and attention, wtf?!?! first time scared the living shit out of me.

We would come home and find they had invited the neighbours cats round for dinner. So we got them magnetic collars, only to spot that one or the other would leave his arse in the flap so another cat could bundle straight in afterwards. wtfx2?!?!

Clod was seen stepping out with a huge great big evil flat headed maniac, who was also a v v v male cat, and when the hgbefhm passed away clod could be found sitting outside his house for weeks afterwards, a bit sad.

Both of them used to walk one either side of me down the road and get the top of their heads scratched as i hunched along, neighbours thought i was odd but the cats were cute.
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:12, Reply)

My unstabledad
once tried to take Ben for a walk (see previous post) but Ben saw a cat.
My dad, bless him, had proper wrapped the lead around his wrist, and was well and truly screwed as Ben took off at 90mph.

He lost most of the skin on his chin that day, as he was dragged around the garden and through a hedge.

Ahhahahahahahha
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:10, Reply)

Who's A Pretty Boy?
Probably not the best thing to cheer you up after the death of a pet but makes me laugh so bugger it. A long time ago I was told the story of a friend of a friend's father who had recently lost his wife to cancer. Suddenly lonely he decided he would get a pet to keep him company. He had a few goldfish but they resolutely refused to ask for a cracker or whistle for his amusement. So he decided he would buy a budgie, something he'd always wanted but his wife had always vetoed. Being an animal lover he didn't totally agree with the idea of it spending long periods of time caged up so, whenever he was in the lounge for any amount of time he would open the cage and let the bird fly freely around his living room. This began what can only be described as the amazing demise of a string of budgies at the hands of this lovely old man.

The first one died of natural causes. A few months after he bought it it was enjoying its free roam in the living room time and perched on the edge of the sofa where, after a couple of minutes, it simply fell off sideways and thudded onto the floor stone dead. A little upset but with desire undimmed the man buried it in his garden in an ice cream tub, erected a little lollypop stick crucifix and bought another. This one decided to commit suicide, which it did by hurtling round the room a few times and then inexplicably nose diving straight into the fish tank whereupon the cold water stunned it into shock long enough for it to drown, despite the owners best efforts to retrieve it.

Slightly perturbed but still lonely and with another mini wooden headstone in the garden, budgie number three was purchased. This one lasted for three months until, again, when flying free around the living room met an untimely demise. As the man sat there reading his paper he became aware of a slight breeze and realised he'd left the patio door open. He quickly got up and ran to close it, lest his amazingly still living budgie escape into the garden. The budgie sensed its chance of freedom and flew full pelt for the opening. The man reached the patio door and slammed it shut just in time to slam the budgie in it as he did so squashing it into a nasty stain on the woodwork.

Quite upset he took a couple of weeks to get over burying another of the poor little sods and then promptly went and bought another. Again things went fine for a few weeks and again one day he had opened the cage and it was merrily swooping and soaring round his lounge. The man was happily reading his paper and enjoying the whistles and squawks when he crossed his legs at the exact moment the budgie was doing a perilously close victory fly past and kicked the poor bugger straight into his open fire.

Apparently this was the final straw and, with four little lollypop stick crucifixes now adorning his back garden, he gave up his aim of budgie ownership and bought a dog instead. I really, really don't want to know what happened to that dog.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:07, Reply)

BEN
was a bloody big Alsation, owned by my nan and grumps (on my Dad's side) and he had been beaten by kids as a puppy, so he wasn't a big fan of chilluns.
Now I loved this dog, but was never allowed anywhere near it, as it went for kids in revenge for the horrors he had suffered years before.
One day, when I was six, my Dad took me to visit, and I was determined to show Ben that not all kids were wankers.
At this point, Ben towered above me ,and could easily have done me a lot of damage.
To me, he was just the big bundle of fun (I had watched my Dad and Grumps play with him in the garden), and I wanted to fucking well play with the dog!

So I snuck out, as the family watched The Match (Forest v Arsenal as I recall, as Forest had a 2 players called Curry and Rice at the time)and approached the kennel that contained the behemoth of a dog that was Ben.
Fair play, he must of been intelligent, as he didn't maul my face off, and I spent a good half hour in the kennel being licked like a calippo as my family went nuts trying to find me in various sheds/gardens/main roads etc etc.
Eventually, I appeared from the kennel, Ben by my side, best of friends.
I got a telling like you wouldnt believe.
But for years after, Ben was like my best buddy, and I was the only kid in the family, indeed, the world, that he didn't try to eat.
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:07, Reply)

re: pacifist pooch
When I was very young we had a massive english sheepdog. Ridiculously good-natured. Never fought, never bit, nothing.

So we would take it for a walk in the local park (Toxteth, Liverpool) populated by scally kids and their baying pitbulls who would occasionally try to fight him. At which point (I said it was massive, yes?) my dog would... sit on them. An angry pitbull helplessly trapped beneath a still-placid sheepdog four times it's own weight is a sight to behold.
(eightAce, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:07, Reply)

She was a nice cat, but...
We used to have a cat called Ellie. My wife got her from a rescue centre before we met, she (the cat, not my wife) had always lived indoors and was of a rather nervous disposition. She also wasn't the sharpest tool in the box.

At this time we were living in a flat that was the upstairs of a house: the staircase was part of the flat. The people downstairs got a cat of their own and although Ellie never met this cat, the smell (presumably) made her even more nervous so she started peeing at the foot of the stairs. Scent-marking? I don't know, I grew up around dogs so I don't know much about cat psychology.

After trying various sprays, putting paper down, just plain old shouting at her -- all to no avail -- we decided the only way to stop it was just to prevent her going down there at all. So I went to B&Q, got a sheet of transparent acrylic (easy to cut without serious tools) and some brackets. I cut the acrylic into the correct shape to block the top of the stairs, mounted the brackets to hold it up, and slid it into place.

I went to put the tools away and when I came back through the hallway, Ellie was sitting on the landing by the top of the stairs. As I approached to go past her, she freaked out and tried to bolt down the stairs. She bounced face-first off the acrylic sheet and into the wall opposite, sat looking stunned and confused for a second, then tore off into the bedroom to nurse her bruised nose (and pride).

I have never laughed so hard in my life.

Not long after that she tried to jump through a shut window. She also regularly would stretch, then roll off the edge of the bed/sofa she was lying on. I thought cats were supposed to be smart?
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:07, Reply)

Kittenlicious
i have 2 kittens - well nearly 1yo now. Bumble (looks like felix) and Shane (black as Ace of spades)

We had to get them neutered as we kept being woken up by the sound of Shane mounting his brother ferociously on top of our wardrobe at night. bumble gave up fighting, although he is the biggest by loads. That was 5 months and 3 weeks old - 6 months and the balls came off. Poor little fellas' - not sure what to do with their ickle empty nutsacks.

A few years backi had a ginge farm cat called Chelmsford. He was ace. he ate 2-3 bunnies a night in bunny season. I once awoke to a strange noise about 4 inches below my pillow. Yes, Chelmsford was crunching his way through a rabbit head. He only left the bobbly tails.

disgustingly it was about a year after he was run over (RIP) that we found the last mangy bunny tail behind a wardrobe.

Cat pretend to be clever - then they do somthing so dumbass that it shows why they are pets and we are not.
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:05, Reply)

Henry and Solomon
Henry was your typical wise-arse tabby alley cat, Solomon was a purebred pedrigree burmese we were given who despite his pedigree was worthless because he got his tail slammed in a door when he was a kitten.

Anyway, Solomon, being as inbred as the Duke of Edinburgh, was not the sharpest sandwich in the picnic. In fact, he was thick as shit.

Once, Henry decided it would be a merry jape to lie flat on one of our stairs pretending to be a step. Sure enough, Solomon proceeded to walk down the stairs, straight into the trap. Just at the right moment and with the biggest smirk across his face, Henry stood up and sent Solomon tumbling 8ft or so down the stairs, landing at the bottom looking even more dumbfounded than usual.

The fact that I was lucky enough to witness the orchestration and success of this feline practical joke always fills me with joy.

Oh yeah, this was many years ago. Henry lived a long and happy life and passed away some years ago. Solomon buggered off to the bastard old woman next door who used to feed him WHOLE CHICKENS and became so fat his legs buckled and he died :'(
( Damien's Hearse, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 11:02, Reply)

ah me, cats.
Well one in particular, his name was Hercules (ahem, I was about 7 at the time of naming him) he was like a clean non-smelly scaled down version of Greebo from the Terry Pratchett books (to Americans and aliens, he is a big selling fantasy writer over here, feel free to google him)

As a small fluffy kitten he repeatedly assaulted an alsation by jumping on the back of its neck all claws in be and making a noise to wake the dead. Owner was screaming to get him off and this little spitting ball of fury spilt the blood of no less than 5 people trying to repeatedly remove him....bless

After a couple of months Dog owners started avoiding our house when on walkies.

We have woken up to the usual half chewed bits of small country animals but also watched once as he tried to get through the catflap with a dead rabbit at least the same size as him in his mouth.
Have woken up to find the cat with dead rats and pigeons on the end of my bed looking very proud of himself.

He would and did attack cyclists, i think it was the lycra but this beast was mad, and bad, and fucking loud, half siamese half tomcat, with all the worst traits of both breeds.

His favourite food was for unknown reasons spaghetti and apple pie crusts (apart from anything that moves, good spider eater as well)

much more to come, my cats are odd!
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 10:56, Reply)

One christmas I got two little lizards
they were Green Anoles, they could change colour from green to brown, they could climb up the walls when i let them out of their tank, they were lovely little lizards, I called them Godzilla and Hedorah in the hope that they would one day grow to gargantuan size.
I loved those little lizards

One day I go into my room and see a huge creature leaping out of the tank
"Blimey! My mutant reptile apocalypse has arrived"
no

it's the fucking cat, it's just ate my lizards

bastard
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 10:53, Reply)

The Great Dane with the Dodgy Gut
Title says it all really.

When I was a little sproglet, we had a lovely lump of a Great Dane that was about twice my height. Beautiful, lovely, friendly, soft, gentle creature. Unfortunately he had an inherited stomach problem - basically it meant that things would fly through him, and he had an absolutely enormous appetite, which lead to a propensity to eat whatever he could find. To this day, I sleep in late - purely because as a child you never wanted to be the first one up because of the sheer mountains of dog dump that would confront you downstairs.

Memorable passages include:

1. The entire 4kg tub of margarine he snaffled. This greased him through, and for days was fixed in a squat, ejecting a never-ending stream of arsegravy.

2. When I couldn't find my favourite pair of yellow socks. My mum swore she'd washed them and they were in the clean laundry basket. Three days later I found them, still neatly folded - and in the middle of a gently steaming pile of dog's egg.

But, by far the most memorable:
3. When he managed to nick the remains of a sunday roast. Unfortunately, the bits of elasticated string from the roast were still on the plate. A day or so later, he was wandering around the house with about 6 inches of the elastic hanging out of his bumhole. My dad decides to help out, and grabs the end to tug it out. It's well wedged up the gut, so my dad pulls hard. The end of the greasy elastic slips out of his fingers, and the whole thing snaps back at the hound's ringpiece. I have never, ever, seen an animal move so fast or yelp so loud. He didn't come back for hours, and wouldn't go near my dad for weeks.

Despite the faecal exploits, I loved that big stupid woof.
(meepmeep is, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 10:50, Reply)

Barney and Clyde
Yes, My dad thought it funny to call our new dog Clyde as a perfect match to our older dog Barny.
Every day for a few years Clyde (a mastiff) had our next door neighbour's cheeky little jack russell teasing him and barking at him through the fence. So, my wise little boy hatched a cunning plan (i assume) and waited to get his revenge....
one day my sister and me took Barny and Clyde out for a walk and who should stroll by off his lead but the next door neighbour's dog.
Time for Clyde to execute his plan. He waited for mr jack russell to come over and bark then grabbed him in his mouth, shook him about a bit, and killed him. The end.
(venusasaboyo cot death removal man since, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 10:47, Reply)