Blind Moggie
That belonged to friends of my parents.

It used to be a haugty Prussian Blue [sic] and when it was older it managed to lose its eyeballs in a fight.

Over the next few months after losing its sight, it got used to manouvering by virtue of its whiskers and the fact that the owners were old and didn'move the furniture around, so it knew the obstacle course of furniture/sofa/chair/table etc.

Cue, me and my youger sisters being little shits, so we moved the furniture around whenever we visited, with much laughter when said moggie bumped into things that wasn't supposed to be there.

Much hilarity ensued, while the geriatric owners looked on in bewilderment that their lovely pussy was banging into things all over the place, but being ever so British smiled at us with pained looks on their faces...

Length? After a longm long absence
(Marmoset Bored bored bored of cnuting revision..., Sat 8 Dec 2007, 0:16, Reply)

Toffee dog
As a kid, I wasn't allowed pets because my dad hated animals, so I used to go round my friend's house to play with his dog. I didn't care much for my friend himself, but the dog was a bundle of joy. It was a border collie with a slightly unhinged, but endearing personality.

My favourite activity was to take a bag full of toffees round and chew them until they were soft and then press them up into the rough, ridged part of the roof of the dog's mouth so they stuck there.

The dog would spend ages licking the toffee enthusiastically. It first contorted its face into a twisted, gummy grin, drool dribbling everywhere. Then the best part, as we watched it poke its massive pink tongue in and out repeatedly, like a big, happy, hairy lizard. While gurning and yelping in roughly equal measure, the animal would either be staring straight at me in a mad sugar-induced trance, or bouncing around the room, jumping and wagging his tail. When the toffee finally dissolved, the gluttonous hound would skip back for another one, which we were only too happy to supply.

I loved 'toffee dog' more than I loved Transformers. Woof!
( chart cat has an itch, Sat 8 Dec 2007, 0:09, Reply)

Jaffa arsed dog
Once I was throwing jaffas to my mates dog to eat. He wasn't a good catch, and they were going everywhere. Anyway, we told him to sit, which he did, and then received the next jaffa. Then when he stood back up, we realised he'd sat on a jaffa, which was stuck to his arsehole. We started laughing, even more so when he realised he could smell a jaffa, but couldn't find it, and started running in circles. He proceeded to chase his own arse for the next 30 seconds, with us laughing harder and harder at the stupid creature. Then he became so dizzy, he stopped running in circles and toppled down the flight of stairs. We thought he'd broken his neck, but he stood up, shook himself, and then happily ate the jaffa which had become dislodged from his date during his tumble.
(hixy, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 23:58, 3 replies)

Cat vs. Mousetrap
When I was living at home, we lived in a somewhat rural area and mice occasionally moved in. Our cat wasn't much of a mouser, so we employed glue traps (horrible things, if you ask me, but I digress). They weren't left out in the open; they were under the sink in the cupboards. One night, I woke up to one hell of a racket, but went back to sleep assuming the cat was just doing whatever evil and hectic things cats do while humans are asleep. The next morning, I entered the kitchen to find a glue trap in the centre of the kitchen table, with about half of the cat's hair adhered to it. Not sure how she got the cupboard open, or why she decided to investigate.

It took months before the bald patches grew back properly.
(BlackArmadillo Avoided writing that article on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 23:47, Reply)

Cats + Laser pens = hilarity
Cats love laser pens. The little buggers will chase that little red dot for hours.
They will follow it everywhere...and I do mean everywhere.

We have floor length windows in our front room. Me being me, I would draw the curtains, and have little beast 1 and 2 chase the laser dot for a bit, before aiming it at the window.
I thought that they would have the spatial awareness to realise that the wide open spaces end at the curtains, but no, they would run headfirst into the window. Again. And again. And again.
(Kezmo, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:49, 2 replies)

we had a gerbil called 'Stumpy', when i was little.
i imagine you're way ahead of me...

So it's christmas at some point in the late seventies, our parents give me and my brother two gerbils. We are very young, and my dad gets gerbil number one out, and gives it to my brother to hold and stroke. I am immediately jealous, I want to hold it!

So i grab it and pull. By the tail. Which comes off.

I remember looking down at the tail in my fist and just knowing I was in SERIOUS trouble.
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:45, Reply)

Dog throttler
Myself and my Mrs once went camping with some friends who own this really mad collie..thing. Anyway we bought some shitty outdoors games to play, one of which was rounders. Now, to stop said mental hound running under a bus, his lead was tied to one of the wooden stakes of the wind break. I however forgot this and proceeded to skite the ball as hard as I could, which went miles, and stupid animal went hareing after it. Rope goes taught... 'TWANG'.. And the sound of a dog gagging is really rather odd. Anyway, after the angry violence from my fiends had died down, we realised that the dog was in fact totally fine. Stupid fucking dog.
( Normanator Bad case of trapped wind since, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:39, Reply)

socks
a friend of mine....um yeah thats it....a friend~ used to regularly put one of his socks over his cats head, the reaction is priceless and is one of the unknown joys of this world - or so he says.

i...i mean he recommends you try it.

cruel? maybe!
(meh! bored since, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:27, 1 reply)

Can't believe I didn't remember this immediately
My sister had two guinea pigs... cute, stinky, boring. Hamsters or gerbils would have been much more fun. These little bastards just sat there all day waiting to be fed lettuce scraps. Miserable existence in and of itself.

Anyway, she bought an oversized running ball, the kind you put a hamster or mouse in so they can run freely on the floor without getting under the couch. It was a great big one, probably 15 inches in diameter. We put Cuddles the guinea pig in... and she just sat there. Did jack shit. It had no inclination to walk anywhere when you put her on the floor anyway, why should it walk around in a big pink prison ball?

So I grabbed our then-kitten, Cali, and slipped her into the ball... she was just a tad too big for it but sure enough in she went and the lid went on.

Bewildered, she begins trying to back away from the great pink wall in front of her. But it's not working! She's still in the ball! Oh, the horror! Cali kept backing up and backing up, never once figuring out the mechanics of the ball. After leaving her in there long enough she figured out how to get around by moving backwards.

It was great until she backed into the dog, who, equally bewildered, barked and attacked the ball with such ferocity that it sent the poor kitten clear across the floor and into the wall. There she stayed for a horrifying ten seconds with only a thin layer of plastic protecting her from a great big flesh-tearing beast. Upon rescuing her, finally breaking her free of the wee pink jail cell, I watched her hobble away and hide under the rug.
( AgentMuu hentai coordination, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:11, 1 reply)

David Blunket
anyone remember him???
a few years ago, while he was still the best education minister Labour's current incarnation have had, he was guest at a Trafford LEA meeting/conference. My dad (then a Trafford head) attended as he was also invited, unfortunately this meant he was forever banned from heaven as he set foot at "old trafford", not LCCC (the real old trafford) but the other one. However, God allows for some mistakes, especially when you make up for them.

My dad was trying to get through a door into another room and felt something relatively solid in his way, so he kicked it (not too hard) and heard a whimper. Looking down there was Lucy, Blunket's then faithful friend whimpering back at my father.

although saying that, surely more cruelty was inflicted on the poor bitch when blunket became home secretary and she was on the news 24/7
(cs192 is sucking on a Koala at, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 22:05, 1 reply)

I got that gay feline
When I was about 7 or 8, we got a kitten to replace our old cat, Felix, who had passed away at the grand old age of 14. As I had named the hamster, it was decided my 6 year old sister would name our new, male, kitten.

She decided on 'Aladdin.' After the disney movie. I could almost hear the other cats sniggering. As if that wasn't bad enough...

We got him 'fixed' too early - essentially before his balls had dropped, so he's never had any testosterone. Which means he's scared of everything, and his miaow is very high-pitched and squeaky. So we've got a falsetto-voiced wuss of a cat called Aladdin.

That's right folks - my sister turned my cat gay. Now there's a case for the RSPCA...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:37, Reply)

Once again: Wrong time, wrong place
About 2 years ago, certainly in winter. My missus and me go to bed pretty late, but not without letting in some air - open balcony door. We were both too tired to notice the cat's absence when we finally hit the mattress.

Next morning: Oh, it's been snowing again. Now look, who's standing on the balcony... She got an extra breakfast that morning after a night at -5° outside.

Another one of quite a few stories:
Just like every other day, i shaked the blankets some time after standing up in the morning. Unlike other days, i didn't check if the kitten was sleeping somewhere in the pile. The result was a spinning fluff ball one meter above the bed, with only 2 giant eyes staring at a rotating world. Whoops...
(timbolator successfully hiding from the authorities on, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:26, Reply)

Poor ladybug...
My family lived out on a ranch for a few year while there was a bit of a mouse & rat infestation. When we drove at night they would be darting across the road every few seconds. I'm sure at least one met its end in our tire treads.

One day my mother turned on the oven, only to discover that a mouse had built a nest somewhere inside it. Within a minute a mouse was running back and forth to move its babies to a safer abode.

During the same time, a rat made a nest in the car's fan belt and got absolutely shredded.

One morning I woke up to be regaled with stories about how a rat had gotten in and my dad had cornered it under my bed while I slept, since the cat was too lazy to kill it. He crushed it with a 2x4.Okay, that wasn't an accident, and neither was this:

When we were staying in a crappy motel in Hawaii, we replaced "mouse infestation" with "scary two-inch cockroach infestation." One night my dad killed one while my sister (4 years old at the time) watched with tears streaming down her face and uttered the words "poor ladybug."
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:25, Reply)

oh man, the hampter story is true
but i didn't mean to offend anyone, honest! I'm sure it was an innocent, trying to catch a hampster but something fell over in the process such as a book case. Still, no one admitted the facts so i thought it a good story. Man, i feel like Clinton...but i'm innocent!!!
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:10, Reply)

i would post a picture
but lack the technical ability on b3ta. Mrs.Sneep is even less amused that i told this story...
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:05, Reply)

oh my god, i am genuinely sorry
i honestly love my dog to bits and i do regret my actions. i've been posting for several years and never had any response but i've posted a story i thought amusing and got an alarmingly negative response. It was totally out of character for me and my dog is my baby.

Please don't think i am generally cruel to Choccy, he's a really important part of my life. I am humbled.
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 21:04, 2 replies)

My Father...
... liked to put his cat in an old fashioned draw-string PE bag. He'd put the cat in and pull the cord so that the bag closed snugly around the animal's neck; leaving the body in but it's head sticking out.

Then he would attach the bag cord to the washing line, securing it with pegs. Then for the fun part! He would give the poor cat a mighty spin and send it doing multiple twirls and loops. All the time he'd be able to look at it's unhappy cat face as it went flying like an astonaut being tested for G-forces...

He also liked to throw the cat off the balcony, reasoning that it had 9 lives so if he only did it up to 8 times it'd be OK.

It is accidental when they don't know it's wrong, right?

Lenght? Until he got told to stop I suppose...

*Edit: He was only 5 or 6 at the time. He isn't a bad man really.*
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 20:28, 4 replies)

Should've named him Hoover
I've an ancient, decrepit dog named Trevor, who my family saved from the shelter when I was just a little Fredlet. That smelly mongrel, love him as I do, will consume ANYTHING that looks remotely edible.

This, of course, is irresistable to anyone that has seen his lively cajoling for a morsel of food.

Feeding him a grape was mildly amusing, as he just sort of rolled it around on his tongue trying to swallow it, but when the big lump insisted on trying one of those Listerine strip things that resemble a small piece of clingfilm, it was a sight to remember.

Making these odd "muff-huhhhh" noises, he loudly slapped his chops open and shut whilst shaking his head from side to side--the insanity peaked when the strip, plastered to his writhing tongue as it slowly dissolved, made contact with his nose as he flailed.

A loud sneeze echoed through the house as he propelled little globules of minty-mildew smelling dog saliva all over me and my bewildered housecat(who had just sauntered in).

Eurgh.

Length? Well, depending on which strand of phlegmy saliva you're talking about, anywhere from eight to eighteen inches.

(*pop*)
(FredrickPendragon found this post to be in very bad taste on:, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 20:25, Reply)

There's a pretty equal
mix of things that make you want to say "bastard" and things which are verging on the fluffieh tiem.

For your consideration:

One hamster, safely ensconced within his gloriously technological exploring device -- a hamster ball.

One youngest brother, just about walking, learning to play football. Well, kick things, at any rate.


Like all the other stories, and your mum, there's definitely no need to finish off.


And animals are most definitely crueller than humans -- our beloved cat managed to dispose of three albino rabbits (we were stupid enough to replace it each time) by biting their throats out. He left the non-albino guinea pig alone though, the racist bugger.


Oh, and never buy a springer spaniel, they're generally crossed with lunatics at some point in their line. I have seen our dog hump a fake fur coat (pimp fancy dress), a rabbit (live), a chair leg, a toy truck, and my brother's girlfriend's leg -- guess which one of those got covered with the special spaniel sauce?


I can't believe she didn't dump my brother. Cruelty *by* an animal. Close enough.

EDIT: correktin mye speeling
(Exiled Youth [witty comment], Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:50, Reply)

Swimming pets
When we were kids we had a naff above ground swimming pool in our garden that looked like a giant metal paddling pool, and one scorching summer, my brother and I decided to take the rabbit and 3 guinea pigs for a swim. We lowered them gently into the water from the side, before climbing up the (classy I know) metal stepladder to get in ourselves. The hilarity of the 4 of them swimming dementedly in circles around the pool kept us laughing for a while until the rabbit got pissed off and decided that it was easier to float on something than it was to swim. The only other things in the pool being the smaller guinea pigs a swift rescue operation was needed as it was like a scene from titanic. He could swim faster than them as well. The rescue effort was hampered by my brother jumping straight in and nearly drowning the lot of them with a tidal wave. There were no casualties that day, thankfully.
(Watermelon, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:36, Reply)

Another Cock Story
When the cockerels had grown up a bit more they decided to sort out who was in charge. As I had four of them and only eight hens there was a fair bit of fighting going on.

Fortunately a chicken loving friend of mine took one off my hands, called him Rocky and he began a new happy life with six hens of his own. Sadly Rocky’s days were numbered and he and his girls were visited by the local Monsieur Reynard – Rocky did at least die protecting them.
A few days later my friend had entirely fox-proofed the chicken enclosure and took delivery of a new set of hens and I gladly gave her another cock, duly named Rocky 2… He’s still going strong a few years on.


So I was left with Hector (his house) and Samson (he took a liking to one particular little hen – his sister actually – so they became Samson and Delilah).


Hector got his name because he eventually won the battle for supremacy which was a long hard fight, staged on a very wet Easter Monday some three years ago.

Picture the scene…it has rained continuously for a week. With it being late March the grass has not had a chance to grow a great deal and chickens will scratch hell out of it looking for worms, seeds and small bits of grit to eat too (no teeth, the grit does the job instead).

So my garden has taken on the appearance of the Somme circa 1916.


Easter Monday I get up around six am, go out as usual and open up the chooks and the geese.

The two cockerels (as yet unnamed) fly out and begin their morning routine of ‘feathering’ each hen but Hector (as he was to become) decides to take a turn with Delilah (as she was to become). Samson was livid – how do I know? Chickens when angry, aside from attacking will also get very reddened combs – the flappy bits on top of their heads (which my kids insisted on calling hairbrushes). Samson then flies at Hector and an all out fight begins…

I leave them to it – they needed to sort out their differences and these little spats were usually over within a few minutes. I go back indoors and sort out breakfast.

About an hour later the kids and I go out to check on the chickens and to collect any eggs – it’s still raining and the hens have taken shelter back in their house.

Hector and Samson are now virtually unrecognisable – plastered in mud, feathers wet and stringy, blood splattered all over them both.

One son exclaims, “Mummy can we charge people to come and watch them fight? It’s just like boxing!” I quickly explain that it’s illegal…so the other son then points out that I’m doing nothing to stop them fighting…


So I decide I’d better be true to my word – that we should be kind to our animals and keep them safe from harm. I climb into the enclosure (without falling over as I had done on New Year’s Eve…but then attempting to put chickens to bed in high heels really isn’t a good idea, not when drunk anyway).
The birds are running around me squawking and still attacking one another. The best way to stop a cockerel from attacking you, without harming them of course, is to stamp your foot, make loud noises and generally behave like a big cock.
I do this, Samson obviously thinks I’m after his girlfriend Delilah too, so he comes as me. I shoo him away (erm, this involves the very technical movement of placing your boot under the bird and lifting them into the air at speed – it is *not* kicking).

He comes back for more.

Hector sides with me and tries to tackle Samson again. Samson then flies at me and I’m ashamed to say I lost my temper momentarily with him….

I made a grab for his tail feathers, lifted him into the air and he went around and around twirling faster and faster until his feathers were a taught rope of wet muddiness…then with alarming speed he turned back in the other direction. At this point I could see he was furious so I did what any sane adult would do in these circumstances….I flung him over the fence.


He spent the rest of Easter Monday running around outside the safety of the chicken enclosure until he had calmed down and dried out sufficiently to be able to fly back over the fence himself.


Hector had by now had his way repeatedly with Delilah.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:34, 1 reply)

Accidental animal-on-animal cruelty
We had a little flop-eared bunny that always had the horn for the lady bunnies in the hutch next door. We used to bring him into the house some nights and let him hop round the lounge. One night my little sister had left a stuffed toy on the floor which he had a good sniff round before mounting it furiously. There was much family hilarity.

This increased when the cat came into the lounge to investigate; whereupon the rabbit hopped over and they touched noses, before el rabbito hopped round the back of the by-now-bemused looking cat and started trying to pick up where he left off with the stuffed toy. The cat was completely nonplussed and tried to play it cool by backing away from the rabbit and licking his lips; but he lost his nerve and started haring round the edge of the room, pursued by the rabbit (the door to the room by this point closed my my brother who had come downstairs to see what all the fuss was about). The cat ended up up the chimney and wouldn't come down for about half an hour until the rabbit was gone.

As a side note; I do believe the stuffed toy went through the washing machine and then back into active service without another word said.
(Watermelon, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:30, Reply)

There are many
When we were kids our hamster had babies and, excitedly, when my brother and I got back from school I lifted the rotostak housing up to get a good look at them. There was a bit of oohing and aahing from us as we had a good look at them (no touching mind, as we had been informed by our own matriarch that the mother would eat them if we touched them and they smelt of people - bearing in mind her own string of unsuccessful pregnancies, hopefully she wasn't speaking from personal experience) before I replaced the housing, not noticing that mother dearest (hamster) was craning her neck over the edge and got two stories in the neck. Lots of tears. We ended up giving the babies to Madonna.
(Watermelon, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:23, Reply)

My ex sat on the dog one night.
Max the Dirtbag was a sweet tempered shepherd/husky mix, about as wonderful a dog as I could have asked for. His main purpose in life, it turned out, was to follow my kids around and eat anything they dropped, or at least sniff at it.

One night we were having dinner and my middle child was in a snit over something and was being extremely snarky. He was sitting next to his mother at the time on the bench at the kitchen table, and she told him to settle down or she would reach over and give him a wedgie. (It was a constant family in-joke for years.)

He roared back, "Oh yeah? I'll give you a wedgie!" and jumped up on the bench and yanked on the back of her jeans. As he was about 8 and rather muscular he sorta leaned into her as he was doing so, and she fell off the bench- right on top of Max.

Cue one freaked out and frantically barking dog going apeshit in her face for landing her butt on him and one eight year old boy looking down into the face of certain doom, followed by me cracking up...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:22, Reply)

Not so much animal cruelty but...
... an elderly lady that lived near me kept goats. She had a couple of billy kids and a very very old nanny goat, and for various reasons decided that she needed to have them put down. So, she called the vet, who did the necessary and buried them in a hole her next-door neighbour had dug just for this purpose.
With his JCB.
Which he'd hired for a week.
And which went back the day before the vet came.
I got a phone call - "Can you pop over to check on P and give her a hand filling that hole in?" Game old soul but she was in her eighties, and shouldn't be barrowing earth about.

The hole they had dug, to bury three small goats, would have comfortably swallowed a Transit van. And was now full of water. And floating bits of goat. It took a day to fill in by hand.

Length? About 17 feet. And 8 feet wide by 7 feet deep.
(gordonjcp, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:18, Reply)

On a family holiday in Scotland
We were driving up through Scotland to stay with some friends. Narrow country roads in the middle of no-where, you get the idea. We passed at least two dead sheep that had died (naturally? Hit by cars? We didn't stop to look). We were merrily driving along* when a wood-pigeon suddenly rose up in front of the car. We couldn't avoid it. We didn't hear a thump though, and looking back there was nothing lying the road behind to indicate we'd actually hit it.

A couple of hours later, we pulled up at my parents friends house, to be greeted with a look of amusement mingled with horror. The pigeon was stuck to the radiator, in a spread-eagled Third Reich pose, very much dead. My bro and I were all for leaving it there, as a sort of hood ornament, but my mum made us take it off. So we stuck it on a fencepost in our hosts field and used it as a target with their air-rifle.


*I say merrily. My brother was carsick and I was pelting him with toffees. Fun times.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:15, 1 reply)

I sat on the Airedale
My friend Tere had an Airedale named Major. I was sitting on the couch with Major lying next to me. I stood up to grab something just out of reach, then sat back down without looking. My feet hadn't moved, but Major had stretched out amd I landed right on top of his hindquarters. I fell to my knees, and for half a second I had 80 pounds of enraged carnivore going for my throat. Then Major realized I was a friend and it had been an accident, and he started nuzzling me to make up.
(Barticus, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:12, Reply)

I recently aqcuired two lovely little cavies
I have a large hutch for them in my room, sat atop a coffee table. I fashioned a ramp for them so they can scamper about freely.

They can be a bit skittish, and tend to run back into their hutch when I put them down after picking them up. One of them seems a little dafter than the other and doesn't notice when the door to the hutch is closed.
( CowJam, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 19:04, Reply)

My sister's hamster, Biscuit.
(Though, I nicknamed it Borken)
I fed it sweets, and it got diabetes and dies of a stroke a week later.
I felt so bad, but I have him on video:
uk.youtube.com/watch?v=UVP26sWpFNA

and here

uk.youtube.com/watch?v=buGRKzZ2xJ4

And yes, I realise they don't make sense.

Edit: Oh, and this was all improvised, and it's me singing.
( ClanSoul, Fri 7 Dec 2007, 18:48, 2 replies)