An aquaintance of mine,..
She decided to scare her hamster when it was running about by banging a rolling pin next to it.. Sadly she missed.

R.I.P Wesley.
(Miggyman, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:41, Reply)

Dying in your sleep isn't always peaceful
A story related to me by a neurotic friend of my neurotic sister, but her parents confirmed the details. When she was about eight years old, on a normal school morning she and her family get in to the car to do the school run. The key goes in the ignition, the engine starts turning when suddenly there's a loud shriek and a blast of fur from the vents. It appears their cat had climbed inside the car because it was nice and warm and had fallen asleep, only to be digested by the fan belt. In her words she didn't understand what was going on at the time, instead she was "given a lollypop and told to go inside."

A similar series of events happened to my dad once, an early morning in 1988 and he's reversing out of his parking space when there's a series of unpleasant noises. It appears yet another tired cat had decided to sleep under the wheel arch and was now quite literally mangled around the axle. According to my mum he almost started crying as he had to remove it and checked his car all over for cats before he started it for ages after that.
(Guineapiggy Fuzzeh!, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:40, Reply)

Bad idea:
So, down the street from my house there are a group of townhouses that always have cats hanging around outside. I have no sense of respect for other peoples possessions, so I have been known to try and lure these cats into my arms.

One night when a friend and I were bored and taking a walk around the neighborhood, we came upon the cat townhouses. Sure enough, there was a kitty waiting to be let in - though it would have to wait a long while, seeing as how it was 1 am.

My friend and I then hunkered down on our knees and made kissy noises, attempting to lure the cat over. The cat sauntered over and turned out to be the friendliest, most adorable animal ever. I picked it up and it immediately crawled up my arm and lay across my shoulders, like a scarf. We then had the bad idea of continuing on down the street with the makeshift cat-scarf, just to see how long it would stay there. Then, we had an even worse idea - we wanted to walk back to our house with it and take a picture of it perched on our shoulders, then return it.

On the way back to my house, it got antsy, so my friend plucked it from my shoulders and held it in her arms. Then, a car came barrelling down the street and the cat got so frightened that it jumped out of my friend's arms and dashed out into the street, within two feet of the car that was not slowing down.

Magically, the cat made it, then dashed off into the bushes. My friend and I stood on the side of the road in utter shock. I felt so guilty at the possibility of nearly causing the death of someone elses cat!
(juliajuliajulia, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:36, 3 replies)

i killed george, the family tortoise
well, i think i did. encountered it one day on the garden path during my five year old wanderings and wondered "what happens if you tip these things upside down?". so i tried, it rolled off down the slope and into some bushes and i wandered off, bored now.
it was never seen again. i admitted my part in its disappearance a few days later, suggesting it may have 'run off'. as tortoises do
( plentyofants more ghee, vicar?, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:33, Reply)

Sorry Titch
When I was a young child I used to throw the cat down the stairs, testing the ole theory that they always land on their feet. He always did and was OK.

But I still feel bad for it now.

Im sorry.
(Miggyman, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:32, Reply)

Another road kill story
Was driving down a country lane when a pheasant suddenly hopped out into the road infront of me. With oncoming traffic there was no way of swerving. I did what i could to avoid it, I looked in the rear view mirror and no sign of a squished bird anywhere. Ahh thank goodness for that! It must have hopped back off the road just in time.

2 hours and a hundred miles later. I stopped for some fuel. Im stood there minding my own business filling up the car, and i start noticing people giving me dodgy looks and looking at the car.

Round to the front of the car I go, to witness a huge wing hanging out from the front grill. Ooops! Got the gloves on, pulled out the humongous bird which had been cooking nicely on the radiator and threw it a side.

Never found its head though.

R.I.P Alyxia. I thought she deserved a name. We had been a long way together.
(Miggyman, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:31, Reply)

99 cents of tragedy
I went through three goldfish in as many weeks.

This included:

1. Deciding that Mardi Gras beads made an attractive goldfish bowl decor. They turned the water pink and Fish #1 went belly-up.
2. Putting the bag with goldfish into the tank to get him used to the water. Left it there overnight. There went Fish #2.
3. Forgetting that goldfish were naturally coldwater creatures and that my non-air-conditioned Deep-South-USA-summer flat reached temperatures in the 100s during the day. Fish #3 quickly succumbed.

The only reason it was three weeks rather than three days was that I could only get to the pet store on Saturdays.

Now I have a new goldfish. He cost 99p and he's lasted five years. Hurrah.
( Sydney Bintstow, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:14, Reply)

I kicked a pebble once... or so I thought
Turns out it was a snail. Felt guilty for the rest of the day.
( waffle1 is lurking on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:08, Reply)

Duvet
My duvet was all scrunched up on my bed, so I grabbed 2 corners and gave it a vigourous shake.

You know how they say that sleeping cats always land on their feet when they are flung out of a scrunched up duvet and bounce off the wall into the bedside table lamp? Well they don't.

kitty was fine, I gave her a cuddle, she bit me, the balance of cat : owner zen-dynamics was restored
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:04, Reply)

Poor Bloody Hamsters
Is it some sort of requirement no-one told me about that you have to have been implicated in some sort of hamster related carnage before you can join?

I mean, the life expectancy of a B3tan hamster seems to be about that of a pogostick tester in a minefield.

You lot had better hope that re-incarnation isn't true...






(Okay I'll probably come back as a pheasant or squirrel or something but at least I'll find my personal nemesis in the fresh air)
(osok Rebel without a clue, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:03, Reply)

All Cocks are Rapists!
Some of you may be aware that one of the reasons I’m called Chickenlady is because I used to live on a farm and have pet chickens. My chickens were a great source of amusement and also education….

I have twin boys who are now 9, but when they were a few years younger I got hold of some fertile eggs because one of my hens (Ethel) was broody. She duly sat on them and produced four cockerels and only two hens. The chicks were lovely but within a few weeks the young cocks had become just that and were harassing all of the hens…several times a day to the point that the favoured hens had no feathers on the tops of their heads and many of them had now got bloody scabs from the over enthusiastic males holding them with their beaks.

When your young children have seen hens being given a good seeing to on a regular basis sex education is pretty easy, or so I’d thought. The following conversation is etched on my memory…

Son #1 “Mummy, what is Hector [Hector was the biggest cockerel and therefore it was his house...] doing to all the hens?”

Me “He wants to give them chicks”

The kids were already well aware that hens lay eggs regardless of whether there’s a cockerel about or not (some adults are unaware of this, and more than once I’ve heard an egg referred to as a ‘Chicken abortion’ erm….no it’s unfertilised…and will never ever become a chick, you idiot).

Son #1“But how?”

Me“Ah…well….you know how you have a winkle?”

He nods, interested now (typical male…any mention of genitalia and they’re all ears…as it were…)

Me“Well…Hector has one too”

Son #1“Where?”

Me“Under his feathers. Anyway, he jumps on the hen’s back and he puts his winkle into the hen”

Son #1“Where?”

Me“Erm…where the eggs come out”

Son #1“UP HER BUM!!??”

Me“Yes…but it’s called a Vent in chickens”
(Can you tell I used to be a primary school teacher?)

*Boy thinks*

Son #1“Mummy….”

Me“Yes darling?”

Son #1 “Is that how people get babies?”

Me“Pretty much, yes, but they always ask first and they always should like each other a lot”

Son #1“So…Daddy…and you…..”

Me“Yes”

Boy looks slightly shocked…

Me“It’s alright you know, when you get older you’ll understand that it’s okay and nice too.”

Boy begins to cry…

Son #1“But Mummy….I’ll never be able to do that!”

At that point I’m afraid I had to stifle my giggles, gave him a hug, told him it would be okay, he *would* be able to do it and would want to do it, then I sent him outside to play.

Ten minutes later I went out to see what the kids were up to….and I see my son chasing the cockerel around the garden shouting at him, “You git! You didn’t ask her if she wanted chicks! Leave her alone!”
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:56, 8 replies)

Another one, but this one doesn't end in death of any animals...
I was about 17 at the time and living at home with my mum. We had a pet cockatiel called George. He was such a loud bastard, he would screech so loud it would pierce your skull and make your brain bleed.

He wasn't always like that, I think sexual frustration had gotten the better of him, even though he had a small plastic pot in his dish which he regularly fucked, I don't see what his problem was, he got more than I do!... anyway!

One day I decided to do my mum a favour, I thought I'd clean out his cage, so I took him into the kitchen, closed the door and got everything ready.

It was all going fine until I had to try to get him off of his water dish, probably his most favourite spot, and as he wasn't used to me cleaning his cage, he wasn't going to budge easily. So I tried luring him to the other side of the cage by waving my hand about in there, which worked perfectly!! Hurrah!! NO! He grabbed hold of that bit of skin between my forefinger and thumb and latched on, I wiggled my hand around for a bit whilst swearing my head off, but he wasn't going to come off.

I decided the best thing to do would be to remove my hand from the cage, and hopefully he would just fly around the room. He did, but after a couple of minutes of me shaking my hand and gently prodding him to try to get him to release his beak.

At last, my hand was free, and didn't look that bad except for a small hole. Now all I had to do was get him back into the cage...

He flew around the room twice, landed on the sink tap and slid down into the water below, *plop* with his wings out, lying in his own shitty cleaning water :( :( :(

I got him back in his cage quite easily after that, but he was not happy, I swear he was pacing back and forth, muttering "cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt..."

:(
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:53, 2 replies)

What is it about cats....
... that makes them such a good (and often hilarious) subject?

Some years ago, one of my mates once accidentally washed his mothers cat. It got into the washing machine when he wasn't looking, he loaded his clothes in on top (apparently it just sat there), completely oblivious, started the cycle and went off down the pub.

When he returned some time later, he was greeted by his distraught mother who informed him that when the washing had done, she had emptied the machine to put the clothes in the drier. And found a very dead (but presumably clean) cat in there too...

Oh, and anyone ever gotten pissed up with mates whose cats have just had kittens, picked up said kittens and lobbed them at similarly drunk mates in a new game known as "velcro kitten" (they cling on with their claws about 80% of the time). No, just me?
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:49, 3 replies)

I wouldn't be surprised if I'm on the RSPCA hitlist...
A few years back, when I was a young'un, me and my brother (we'll call him gerald), were given two hamsters for christmas. We decided to name them Bubble and Squeak, Squeak being Gerald's and Bubble being mine. One day, whilst playing with the hamsters outside in the garden, I thought it would be a good idea to start walking backwards, I was enjoying the randomness of it, until I heard a small crushing noise followed by a high-pitched squeal. I quickly turned round to see Squeak's nose trailing blood and my brother hurrying towards me looking distraught. I had never felt so guilty, and instead of telling my parents it was me, I wrote a written confession of the terrible deed. Squeak was rushed to the vet's but died soon afterwards. Although my brother got his own back by proceeding to murder Bubble by "dropping" him in his plastic house, I still feel guilty to this day.
(ladyflash Formally known as "oshi_", Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:41, Reply)

Splatted Hamster
When I was about 7 or 8, I went throught the phase of wanting a cute, cuddly hamster as a pet. He had the imaginative name of 'Hammy'. Now, Hammy was a golden hamster, and could be quite vicious at times.
This made my young self quite nervous around him after the first week or so, after being bitten several times.
As we all know, hamsters like to take a stroll in plastic balls; which we have all longed for at some point.

Anyway, he was having the time of his life in the living room, as good ol' Mum was cleaning his cage. I used to like gently pushing the ball as a way of playing with him without getting bitten. I didn't push him hard, just a gentle nudge now and again, and he used to run back towards me; so I assumed he liked it.

I picked him up at one point, as we have a step down into the kitchen, and I didn't want him to go down it and hurt himself.
Plastic balls have small holes and lines to stop the hamster suffocating obviously, and as I had the ball in my hands, I felt something sharp on my finger. Having been attacked by Hammy before, I instinctively proceeded to throw the ball up into the air thinking I'd been bitten. The ball then crashed down onto the floor, splitting in two.

So, I saved him from falling down one step, instead accidentally making him plummet from about 5 feet up. The ball had split apart, and both pieces laid either side of him, he was spread-eagled on the floor motionless. I panicked and picked him up. As I held him in my hands, I didn't notice any blood on my finger. I then realised the sharp thing must have been his claws.

He recovered after about 10 minutes, with no ill-effects of his short-lived freefall. He died about 6 months later from an unrelated disease :(

RIP Hammy
(Dazzorifik is bored of b3ta, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:38, Reply)

More naive than accidental
You remember the 80's? Everything was day-glo, and that included hair, which meant day-glo spray-in hair colourings. The side of the can said 'non-toxic', but the colour was somewhat the brightest greenest green you could get without a radiation suit.

My friend's little sister kept a white rabbit.

I don't need to finish this story, do I?
( 0nyx, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:31, 2 replies)

I'm very nice to animals, but some of my friends...
One of my best friends:
1. Accidentally boiled her terrapins - another friend told her if she left them in the sun they'd grow into giant terrapins like in some Japanese B-Movie and she thought that sounded like fun, so left them sitting in the sun lounge whilst she spent the day at Pleasurewood Hills. She came back to find the water bubbling and several floating baby terrapins at the top of the tank...

2. Same friend. Really shouldn't be given animals. We went off to Petsmart (horrid place) and bought a lovely cute fluffy hamster - so fluffy, in fact, that both of us failed to notice that it only had three legs, it was only when it kept trying to climb the tiny ladder to get to its bed and repeatedly fell off she took a closer look. She didn't want a defective hamster and even though I cried for a good few hours, she took it back to Petsmart to get a (non-disabled) guinnea pig. The staff at Petsmart assured her that it would be taken home by one of them and looked after, but I'm pretty sure they just took it out into the store room and stamped on it - poor fluffy.

3. My aunt agreed to look after my nan's pet budgie when she was away on an old lady holiday. Aunt thought it looked like it needed some exercise and let it out for a fly around. It was very excited about being free, and flew very fast into the bay window, breaking a leg. Aunt thought quickly about what one should do when faced with little mini avian broken limbs and tied a matchstick around it as a tiny splint. Good idea, you would think, but the next day the leg had fallen off and the budgie was propped wonkily up against the side of its cage, discarded limb in its food bowl. It later died, although the official story is (if nan asks) 'it flew away'.

4. Another friend had parents that although did not live on a farm, owned a few farmyard-like animals. They went away on hols and their beloved goat died, some say from old age, others say from the vast amount of beer we made it drink at a party the night before. Son decided it wasn't worth calling a vet so dug a large hole for the deceased goat. Unfortunately, said hole was not big enough and the goat, when tipped in, had its legs sticking out the top. It had rigor mortis by this point and the legs could not be bent (I believe he even tried a hammer) so his poor parents came home to find four hooves sticking up out of their front garden. He was in the pub so not around to explain, but I hear that it made a novel perch for some local pigeons until his parents paid for the council to come and take it away.
( hanabanana, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:31, 1 reply)

My ex-flatmate's pussy
Couldn't resist the pussy gag...

I used to share a flat with a mate of mine, who had two cats, mother and son. The mother was mellow and laid back. The son was the Devil in black fur and I hated it with a passion, despite my firmly being a cat person. It was completely un-housetrained and would piss and shit everywhere. It would also pick on my own cat, the very fluffeh Floyd cat who would send it packing with a quick Freddie Kruger type slash. Anyway, I digress.
This little bastard was always coming up with new ways to piss me off, including raiding the rubbish bins and leaving a trail of chicken bones all over the already messy bloke flat.
One night I saw his skinny arse poking out of the kitchen bin and feverish munching noises coming from within. I grabbed the little shit by the tail and yanked it out. It bolted.
I spent the next half hour chasing it round the flat, the red mist getting thicker and thicker.
Eventually, I cornered it and ripped it from the bit of upholstery it had dug it's claws into. I threw it down the stairs, there was a yelp and I felt a slight twinge of post-rage guilt. Especially when I looked down and saw a perfect kitty claw still stuck to the carpet. The force of extraction had torn its claw from its paw.
It didn't learn though. It still continued to wind me up until I moved out...
(Ghostlight, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:29, 1 reply)

the other way round
we've got a trilogy of great pictures of my little brother when he was about 18 months old. we were at a big bbq at the house of some friends, who lived on a farm in yorkshire.

in the first one, babybrotherswipe is looking angelic, mop of white blond hair, and a happy grin because he is clutching a lovely bread roll in his sticky little fingers.

in the second one, he is looking apprehensively at a marauding chicken, which is stalking towards him, ridiculous neck stretched out, wings flapping.

in the third one, the hen and the bread roll are miles away. empty handed babybrotherswipe is incandescent with rage. and fear. and tears.

i love it. he's great now, but he was an evil little shit as a kid, and because he looked so cute, he got away with it. most of it. yay for mugging chickens!!

who probably ended up inside the baps at the next bbq. ah well.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:28, 4 replies)

Stoning a cow to death
when I was at college a friend and I jokingly told two other lads we didn't know that well that we'd stoned a cow to death at the weekend and it had been 'great fun'. They were idiots and believed us, they went to a local field and threw a load of bricks at a cow until the police came for them. It made the local paper in fact.
(Chopper3, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:21, Reply)

stardust
Giving some of that stardust popping candy stuff to your mate's dog when you're eight makes the dog pull funny faces for 20 seconds.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 17:04, 1 reply)

This is a comedy sketch (not too sure what program it was, but bloody funny)....
..so I won't take the credit on this, but it did list a great example of accidental cruelty.

A vet gets called to a farm, as his sheepdog is getting on a bit and it's for the best if he is put to sleep. So the vet grabs his stuff and calls around to the tearful farmer, who sits him in the front room with a lovely tired-looking dog on the sofa. The farmer mutters "I'll be back in two minutes..." and tearfully walks out of the room closing the door behind him. The vet sees the dog, pats the poor fellow then opens his case. He numbs the dog's leg, injects the lethal dosage and pats the dog saying "There there, you've led a good life ol' boy, no more pain where you're going old chum." The dog quietly falls asleep on the vet's lap and slowly passes away.
A few moments pass, then the farmer returns with another dog. "Here's poor ol' Jess doc, she's in so much pain. Oh, nice to see you're aquainted with Maxie there doc, how's he been with you?"

Oops.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:55, 4 replies)

I have a pet giant African land snail.
It's exceptionally hard to be cruel to them, as if there's no food around they just retreat into their shells and hibernate until there is. I've gone on holiday for four weeks and come back to find Snaily* happily sealed inside his** home, coaxed him out with a bit of warm water, fed him and off he slid, apparently happy as Larry. It's kind of hard to tell a snail's emotional state, except when you feed them beer and they get pissed. Their eyes go in different directions and they slide sideways. Really, they do.

Anyway, my sister was also looking after some of Snaily's relatives - cousins or something, we haven't been that anal about maintaining a family tree - and neglected them in a similar manner. She came back to find two "dead" snails in the tank, and as she's a bit squeamish about that kind of thing, instructed her boyfriend to dispose of them. Gallant fellow that he is, he chucked them up the garden. A few weeks later my mom was telling her about her own snails (yeah, we all have them) and their hibernatory habits when the terrible truth dawned. The boyfriend was dispatched to retrieve the poor bastards - no easy task, considering he'd just lobbed them wherever - but miraculously both were found and having survived the inclement British weather on top of everything else, were restored to health in the fullness of time. She's now learned her lesson and is even caring for Snaily while I'm off travelling.

The other thing about keeping snails is that unless you keep them in isolation (as I do) they tend to breed and lay huge numbers of eggs that look like little polystyrene balls. Sister again is quite squeamish about what to do with them and consequently has a large number of snails by this point. My mom, on the other hand, just scoops them out of the tank and feeds them to her fish. Not sure if that counts as cruelty...abortion, perhaps?

* imaginative name, no?
** I'm perfectly aware that snails are hermaphrodites, but usually refer to it as a male due to the dearth of hermaphroditic pronouns in the English language...
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:43, 1 reply)

Not really cruel, per se...
but I do like pulling small pranks on deer.

See, where I come from the white tail deer are as common as flies and almost as numerous, and are practically as tame as housepets. I have a photo from last summer that my girlfriend shot of me sitting on the deck at my parents' house, fending off a deer that was trying very hard to get her nose into my glass of scotch. I also have another photo of a doe who was so intent on getting the graham cracker I was holding that she reached up and licked my nose.

So what pranks can you pull on a deer? Quite a few, as it happens.

Riding my bike home from work as a teenager I often encountered deer in the road and had to evade them. But a couple of times as I rode past at a high rate I put my hand out and smacked 'em on the butt, with predictable results. Fortunately I was going fast enough that the panicky flying hooves didn't connect with my bike's wheels...

A friend and I were sitting by the lake one evening, and she had an ancient Alka-Seltzer that she had found in her grandmother's bathroom. We took one of the tablets and were breaking off bits and tossing them into the lake to watch them fizz (we were bored) when I heard a noise behind me. I turned to see a doe nosing toward me, looking for a handout, so I tossed her half of the Alka Seltzer which she greedily lapped up- and then as it started fizzing on its way down her eyes got huge, her tail went up and she began trotting around erratically. (It didn't do any harm to her- like cows, deer are ruminants and belch all the time anyway.) The last I saw of her was a very confused looking beast trying to figure out why her throat felt funny...

Deer, like other animals, do communicate somewhat. They do so by body language and some small sounds. So if a deer snorts at you and stamps a hoof, it's getting annoyed over something. When I get a deer doing this to me, I stomp my foot and blow a raspberry back at her, which usually results in the deer getting increasingly stroppy until I laugh at it and it runs off in a huff...

There have been others, but those were the most fun.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:43, Reply)

Greasy cats and stupid south africans...
My cat is a Maine Coon. She has a long beautiful coat that she spends a third of her time tending to (the other third is spent sleeping, and engaging in violent conduct against the human species). Now little Vincey is rarely a placid cat, but the one thing she will do is sit on top of the washing machine and stare out of the kitchen window, watching the world go by. No one messes with this - if Vince is sat by the window, no one gets attacked. This is Vince's sanctuary and no one wants to suffer her fiercesome claws.

I had this houseguest. She is the stuff of legends, made for 500 questions of the week - not least worst housemate. She was living with us for free as her rent was up on her old place and she was supposedly moving back home a few weeks afterwards (this was July, she's still here - living for free in someone else's house). She had many bad habits but two involved being messy and lazy. One Monday, she'd roasted some offal-related items and instead of washing the dish up, left it on top of the washing machine, being the obvious place to leave a rancid tin of offal fat, whilst the rest of the house was out doing what everyone else in the house did - working.

I came home from work to find Vince mewling around the house with a soaking wet tail, no longer fluffy and proud but limp and lifeless. She loves water so I thought she'd been playing around in the sink again. I picked her up and she smelt hideous, as I touched her tail I realised it was sodden in fat. The stupid South African had left a tin of fat for Vince to trail her tail through!

The results weren't pretty. Myself and the other houseguest had to bathe Vince three times to even begin to get the oil out. It took three months for her tail to return to it's resplendid self, and she doesn't sit on the washing machine anymore.

The South African was thrown out shortly after having nearly burnt the house down.
(lofichic, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:38, 2 replies)

Hamster Death
When my husband was a wee lad, he had a pet hamster. One day he decided that he would give the hamster a real 'treat' by throwing it gently up into the air and catching it in his hands. Basically he was trying to recreate a bouncy castel/fun fair ride for it. Anyway he got a bit carried away, starting throwing it higher and higher into the air, until eventually it hit the ceiling. When it landed back in his hands it was twitching and there was blood running out of its nose. Not only a nasty death for the hamster, but a truly traumatic memory for my husband who still suffers massive guilt!!
I once accidentely killed a stick insect, but to be honest those things are so stooopid I was probably doing it a favour.
(Sameranda, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:30, Reply)

What do you give a sick budgie?
The 'hero' of this story www.b3ta.com/questions/goingtoofar/post65740 used to live in Manchester in the mid 90s. He regailed us of the events after he'd left the Hacienda, rather too late, rather too battered on mushrooms, on a school night, with rather too much work to do the next day.

First case that came in", he said, "was a little old lady with a budgie."
"Said budgie need its claws clipping but I could hardly stand or focus. Ended up cutting the poor bastard's foot clean off. Mumbled some shit about 'complications' and 'foot cancer'"

Not good. Not as funny as being dragged round a dartmoor with your hand up a cow's rectum, but that's for another day....
(Countryslicker, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:19, 1 reply)

Non accidental cruelty and animals.
My younger cousin (now 12)has always been a girly girly type,and when she was 6 or 7,she really wanted a virulent pink Barbie furry jacket for Christmas.......


She got it,and ponced around the place as happy as a pig in shit.


Until I told her it was made out of rare coloured kittens.


Cue lots of crying,a sharp bollocking from my father,but strangely a pat on the back and a beer from her father...


twas cruel and involved animals..did i mention she looks like a hamster??
(shirleytemplesarse, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:13, Reply)

A History of Violence......
Well, not quite....more like sporadic accidental cruelty and the odd moment of pure evil (reserved only for insects and molluscs mind you).

I'll get the evil out of the way first.
Slugs - I pour salt around them and leave them the choice of offing themselves.
Flies - boiled alive, batted with tennis rackets, pinned down....you name it. Occasionaly I've pushed them into Spider's webs and watched with glee as they were slowly cocooned.
Ants - boiled, burnt and cemented alive.

Now for some accidental cruelty:

Hamster #1 - Fluff. Fluff was a nice hamster, bought by my parents from an old dear who could no longer look after him, he was presented to me on my 12th birthday in his, well, birdcage. I take care of him, clean his cage out day in day out and let him out to roam once in a while. Except one day I didn't shut my door and he ended up in the mouth of the family cat. Thankfully I got to the cat before he was torn to pieces.

Later on in his short life he was in his hamster ball....again, I left my door open. The cat left him alone this time, but in his blissful state of happiness he totally failed to notice the 15 steps in front of him as he bounced his way down. He survived that, but not for too long. Whether it was age or fright that killed him, I do not know.

Hamster #2 - Truffles. Yeah, a pretty awful name I'll admit, but Truffles was one of those Golden Hamsters that turn viscious the moment they hit puberty, which is pretty much as soon as you get them home. He bit me so much that I actually had to use him as an excuse for not doing my homework once "Sir, my hamster bit my pen gripping fingers and I could not apply pressure to write".

Thing is, Truffles was a tough cookie - determined to live every second of it's allocated life on Earth...and more. 5 years later, by which I kept my fingers far away from him and cleaned his cage out once a month and had no social interaction with the little shit other than to feed him and replenish his water every few days.

You can probably guess that this lead to a situation like that guy that lay dead in his flat in Birmingham for 6 years. I just didn't think he was hungry as the water was going down (leaky bottle....) and he regularly stored food in his bedding. The smell wasn't that bad - a bit like chicken a week past it's use by date, according to my mum who found his corpse as I was too busy with exams to clean his cage out. He could have been dead for anything between one month and one day.....
(lo-fi_shop_assistant, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 16:02, 1 reply)

Duck
On holiday when I was very small (it was Cornwall or somewhere I think) my parents took me to a children's farm. Tractor rides, a play area and of course, lots of fluffy animals. We went to the 'petting zoo' part of it, and the workers were bringing out all these cute things for the kids to stroke, baby chicks, lambs, guinea pigs etc... everything went round fine, until it came to the duckling.

Now, I had a toy duck at the time, which I carried around by its neck. Nobody told me (ages 2 or 3) that doing the same thing to a real duck was possibly a bad idea... so I of course picked it up by its neck.

The duck, understandably wasn't happy about this, and it took my parents and the panicking farm worker a good minute to persuade me to release my vice like grip on the poor creature...

In my defence: I was only little... poor duck..


(this all comes secondhand from my parents, they love this story.)
(Celebgil, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 15:56, Reply)