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This is a question Accidental animal cruelty

I once invented a brilliant game - I'd sit at the top of the stairs and throw cat biscuits to the bottom. My cat would eat them, then I'd shake the box, and he would run up the stairs for more biscuits. Then - of course - I'd throw a biscuit back down to the bottom. I kept this going for about half an hour, amused at my little game, and all was fine until the cat vomited. I felt absolutely dreadful.

Have you accidentally been cruel to an animal?
This question has been revived from way, way, way back on the b3ta messageboard when it was all fields round here.

(, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 11:13)
Pages: Latest, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, ... 1

This question is now closed.

on the road back from uxbridge county court, a huge sign tied to the barriers on the dual carriageway reading:


surely there is something cruel about this????
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 11:30, 3 replies)
Think of the kittens
One of the ex gf's when she was about 6 found a lovely little black kitten in her garden one day and did the usual cuddling and stroking business but being an active girl decided the kitten needed to be introduced to summer sports. One of her little friends was there and went back into the house for her tennis racquets and they proceeded to have a game of tennis over the garden fence using the kitten as the ball. As you can probably imagine the kitten ended up sort of like soup in a skin bag.

This women who is half French the last time I heard was a hostess on the euro tunnel trains in first class so if you ever use the first class section look for the smiling hostess serving coffee with a South London french accent, she's a kitten killer she is.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 11:12, Reply)
animal revenge
A seagull bounced off my head in Brighton a few years ago. Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was just shit at flying, but it hit me from behind and almost knocked me over. It felt like a wet pillow that smelled of fish.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 10:05, 7 replies)
Not as dramatic as most...
Mine isn't that bad. I had a daft-headed Irish setter who loved food. Her favourite thing to do was steal food, she didn't always eat it, sometimes she just put it in her bed and lay on it and refused to get up. But anyway.

One of her favourite things to eat was cheese. So one day I was sitting around and I dropped her a lump of Cheddar. She ate it off the floor (couldn't catch anything, ever) and was happy. So I dropped her another. Same thing. Then I dropped another one, but it accidentally went into her water bowl. So she stuck her long nose into the water bowl and fished it out, making squirfling noises and bubbles. I thought this was so funny that I started dropping cheese into her water bowl on purpose. I'm sorry, but a dog farting out of its nose really is kind of funny.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 9:33, Reply)
2 story cat fall
My cat called Mad Madeline has a passion for human food. Given the opportunity, she will scarf anything.

We were living in an attic room with a sprial staircase when she was about 3. I had just finished a packet of potato chips and I carelessly threw the empty packet on the floor.

Watching the telly I heard a rustling sound and turned around to see Maddy with her head firmly stuck in the chips packet. She then proceeded to walk backwards around the room. The problem was she ran backwards towards the spiral staircase and before I could get to her, she fell down the stairs!

I rushed over and looked downstairs fearing that she was dead only to see her (with the bag still firmly fixed to her head) walking bakwards towards the basement stairs.

She then tumbled another story down. I was seeing a massive vet bill in the near future as I ran down the 2 flights to pick up the body of my beloved cat.

When I got to her she was washing her butt and acting like she meant to do it.

Unintentional but extremely funny to watch
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 9:27, 1 reply)
I love Swansea for it's free-roaming horses....
...that always seem to have a chav hanging off a blue tow rope with them. Surprisingly down 'ere the chav's choice of weapon is not the pitbull terrier or the dirty alsation but a fully grown and rather terrified horse. I used to live in a suburb called Penlan (well it's almost a suburb, it should be surrounded by a moat tbh) and we would regularly see the tracksuit donning chavs wonder past dragging the poor horses down the road. They'd leave them tied up in playgrounds etc at night too; the RSPCA started a bit of a feud after a few years of this eventually.

But I digress.

This one particular saturday afternoon cue a young teenage Jeccy wondering through the Penlan estate on his way to his friends house. Cue Jeccy deciding to walk off the main road and take a shortcut through the playground saving valuable seconds on the walk. Cue Jeccy noticing a small pony running mentally about the playground, completely soaked in the previous night's rain and attempting to break free from his tow-rope reigns. Cue Jeccy looking slightly puzzled and feeling rather sad for the poor horsey. Cue aforementioned horsey snapping the rope and going fecking mental. Cue Jeccy saying "Oh fuck...". Cue horsey seeing the closest human quickly followed by seeing the red mist. Cue Jeccy turning around and running like feck. Cue horsey beginning the sprint towards Jeccy. Cue Jeccy filling his pants. Cue horsey getting closer. Cue Jeccy running for a gap between two parked cars on a road just ahead. Cue horsey smelling the blood. Cue Jeccy biting his tongue; his bladder swelling with the urine that so wants to come out. Cue horsey almost reaching his target. Cue Jeccy diving head-first between the gap by the cars. Cue horsey sprinting full speed into the wing of a parked Orion, knocking itself unconcious and setting the car alarm off. Cue Jeccy sprinting the fuck out of dodge.

I can only imagine what the car owner saw when they went to turn the alarm off. I didn't look back.

(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 8:31, 9 replies)
Lazarus the hamster
Many years ago, when few people had access to the Premiership football on Sky TV, my friend Woody was very generous by allowing his mates to arrive at his house on a Sunday afternoon and watch the footie, as he was the only one of our Mancunian circle rich enough to be able to afford the satellite fees (this was about 1993).

So, one Sunday afternoon a group of us appeared at his house to watch Manchester United take on Manchester City. As the only United fan in a group of twelve, I was a bit apprehensive, but smiled grimly and decided to put up with the abuse that was sure to follow from Woody, a huge City fan and as people from the area will know, somewhat bitter about United's success.

Woody had two hamsters, which he hilariously named 'Laurel' and 'Hardy', but when we arrived for the football he announced that there had been a double tragedy. Hardy had died the weekend before, and had been buried with some ceremony in the back garden in a cigar box with much weeping.

As we stood on the step on a freezing November day, Woody was close to tears as he related that he had woken up that morning to find Laurel dead in his tank, seemingly through heartbreak. We all shook our heads sympathetically and then asked to come in and watch the fucking football as we had only come round for a few drinks and the match, rather than a requiem to mourn the death of a tiny rodent.

The match began and the mood was solemn, until City took the lead, at which point Woody leapt to his feet in joy, despite the fact that the large tank (still containing the very visible body of a slumped hamster named Laurel) was right beside him. The thought of beating the old enemy clearly made Woody forget the death of a second hamster in a week.

Anyway, come the second half I was feling more uneasy as United had equalised and I wasn't the most popular person in the pub in that room as a result. Then the unthinkable happened...

Paul Ince (United midfielder who remains one of the most unpopular men in football) strode forward and hammered a shot right into the corner. 2-1 to United (which is how the match ended).

Three things happened at once. The rest of the room (City fans all) became quire irate). I jumped up with my arms in the air squealing like a mad thing. Then Laurel the hamster leapt into the air with his hamster arms raised squealing like a mad thing, for he was alive! And obviously a big fan of Paul Ince or Manchester United.

There was much talk of 'The Lazarus Hamster' after the end of the match. Then somebody sugested that hamsters might hibernate, or maybe just be generally sluggish in cold temperatures (and Woody had decided to invest in Sky Sports over a central heating system).

Anyway, some beer later a small but solemn exhumation took place. Woody simply had to know whether he had buried his beloved Hardy alive. As three of us went at the icy ground with spades, the cigar box was soon revealed, and gently removed fro the cruel earth, and in the living room, Woody carefully opened the box, like a contestant on a macabre 'Deal Or No Deal.'

It was no deal. The box was empty, with a small hamster-shaped hole chewed into one side, where Hardy had woken up and decided to make his 'Kill Bill 2' escape with his tiny claws.

Who knows if Hardy made it to the surface and a better life? What matters is that Laurel escaped the same fate of being buried alive and that United went on to win the Premiership as usual.

Oh, and Woody the massive Manchester City fan had to live for another couple of years with a hamster who was so obviouy a United/Paul Ince fan.

I simply cannot help the length.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 3:16, 2 replies)
apparently i have many stories of accidental (and not so accidental) animal cruelty
...all involving cats.

We adopted a cat from the pound back in the day. She had a horrific past in which someone found her half-frozen on the side of the road. She even had the battle-scar to prove it: an awkwardly bent, frost-bitten tip of a tail.

Awkwardly bent, as in, the top two inches of her tail formed a permanent and brittle 90 degree angle with the rest of the tail.

Fast-forward to the day my mom accidentally stepped on her tail and the brittle end BROKE OFF.

My mom, slightly horrified, put the broken piece of tail in her bathrobe pocket where it managed to stay for the remainder of the lifespan of that bathrobe.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 2:35, Reply)
Banjo Cat!
Being the son of a scientist, I have always had an insatiable need to stick my fingers in things I don't know anything about.

My Mother had an ornamental catfish that was just so ugly it could only be loved. This fish developed some kind of blood blister which I decided I would then fix. At first I slowly increased the salt content of the water I put him in waiting for this to effect some cure, but there wasn't anything apparent. At this point I realized I could use Alcohol to help kill the infection!

Measuring the weight of the fish, calculating the proportional weight of the fish in relation to the weight of a man, created the proper dilution of Vodka to water to do this right.

It's true. Mom wasn't happy.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 2:34, Reply)
About 17 years ago...
I awoke one morning and got myself dressed and ready for school. After the obligatory ablutions of the 12 year old male (i.e. a quick sniff of the armpits and a tentative scratch of the plums) I sallied forth and ventured downstairs to fetch myself some cooked bread comestibles.
Having made myself a cup of coffee, and placed the bread in toaster I then discovered a terrible and distressing lack of marmite. 'Oh well' thought I, "buttered toast to break my fast will have to suffice and I shall instruct Mother to purchase more yeasty victuals ASAP."

The toaster did 'spoing!' I buttered my toast.

It tasted....funny. Somewhat scorched and musty. A burnt hair kind of smell. After gagging upon the third slice (it was a four slice toaster, and I was a fat bastard even then) I cautiously peered down into the grinning, gaping mouth of the toaster.

Something looked back at me. With sad eyes. Eyes that had known pain and suffering.

There, its claws melted to the side of the toaster, entombed in a small mountain of crumbs and smouldering fur was... a mouse.

The expression on its face could only be described as "oooooof".

Poor fucker. One minute gorging itself on crumbs, the next watching as its feet congeal to a glowing orange element.

I ate the last slice of toast though.
(, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 0:42, 5 replies)
Shortcut at work.........
While being employed as a Fenestration Installer (that's a fitter of uPVC windows mainly), I was sealing off an upstairs window which was above a garage. As this was the last one and the grunt had cleared the site, it was time to pack up my tools and fuck off.

Well, it was raining, cold and I'm lazy so I decided that it would be much quicker to gently toss the unbreakable tools off the garage roof onto the drive than it would be making half a dozen trips up and down the ladders.

So, claw hammer, mash hammer, box of fixings, crow bar etc, where dropped next to the van. Quick sweep up and all was hunky dory.

Until I came down the ladders and was surprised to see a fluffy feline twitching under my crow bar.

Now, as there was still paper work to be completed by the customer, not to mention payment for said work, so I gently lifted the cat into the cab of the van and kept stum.

After, demonstrating the workings of the shiny new windows and doors, a quick cuppa and procuring payment, I checked on the cat, no movement was apparent.

Mouth shut, I drove calmly away from site. After half an hour driving I checked again and moggy was cold and a little stiff to the touch. Nothing left but to get rid of the evidence, the feline corpse was tossed from the passenger side window into some undergrowth somewhere along the A69.

And, yes, it was the customers cat ! Cats and crowbars don't mix apparently. Never told me!

I'll be more careful next time.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 23:15, Reply)
My friend had a very sleepy cat...
..so sleepy you could do what you want in the room without it even stirring. Best way to utilise this gift? Buckaroo of course!!! Hours of fun.
Not really hours, it wasn't comatose. A few minutes tops.
Not really that cruel either.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 22:41, 4 replies)
What is it with my family and animals?
I don't know what it is about my family, but animals never seem to have much luck. They're always meeting gruesome ends.

After writing about "Suzie the Sausage Dog" I remembered quite a few other incidents:

1. The kittens that another of my cousins decided to give a bath... in a washing machine... in boiling water. Result: kitten soup!

2. A friend of my nana's was visiting and brought her mentally retarded (or whatever PC term you like) granddaughter with her. At the time our cat had a new litter of kittens. Result: four dead kittens bludgeoned over the head with a hunk of wood.

3. Two parrots with clipped wings left outside in the branch of a tree as a special treat for them. One RAN under the car wheel as we were pulling out of the driveway. The other just RAN away and was never seen again.

4. My guinea pig, Ralf, accidentally had his hutch moved on top of him. He was later found squashed with a little bit of grass still sticking out of his mouth.

5. Two dogs bitten by snakes.

6. Even wildlife wasn't safe! There was the lizard I caught and decided to put into the "space program". I put him in a jar with a bit of string attached, spinning it round and round like a centrifuge. Then the string snapped and the jar flew up onto the roof. Several weeks later the wind blew a jar off the roof. No sign of the lizard... just ooze in the bottom of the jar.

7. My grandmother never had any time for reptiles. I remember as a kid going inside and saying "Nana, there's a blue-tongue lizard in the garden". (A fairly big, mean-looking lizard, but harmless). She went out into the garden with a jug of boiling water and threw on it. As the poor creature writhed in pain she commented, "That'll turn his scales up".

Jeez, if reincarnation is true, I hope to God I don't come back as the pet of one of my family.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 22:35, 6 replies)
My little brother had a hamster, and a Batman doll with a parachute backpack. So, of course, I stuffed the hamster in the backpack and slung it out the window. The parachute worked a treat and the hamster had a once in a lifetime experience. Little hamster was so chuffed with its extreme sports adventure that it did a very convincing impression of being dead. I was amazed that it came back to life after a few minutes back in the cage.

Also, me mam accidently tumble dried a kitten to death.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 22:30, Reply)
Two for one here
A few years back, we found a kitten in the back garden. It had no collar, so mom said the twins could have it since I already had a dog. You see where this is going? Wrong!

My brothers, being about 6 at the tine, decided to give it a bath. They couldn't reach the bathroom sink, so they used the next best thing. The toilet. Needless to say, the poor mite drowned in a flurry of flushes.

I just wish I had been there. I nearly pissed myself laughing when I got home. Then again, I never was much of a cat person.

Okay, second one. Also pet-wash related.

When my girlfriend was nine, she had a fat hamster called Lottie. She was determined to be a responsible young girl and look after it properly.

So, she went to the bathroom (she could reach the sink), put the hamster in the sink and filled said sink with warm water and soap. As the sink was filling, poor Lottie was trying to get out, being a hamster with tiny hamster claws she kept slipping back into the rising soapy water.

Eventually, she gave up and her eyes bulged and she shat herself to death. The hamster, not my girlfriend.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 22:17, Reply)
Baby hares
When I was 10 years old, me and my little brother found some baby hares while playing near some bushes. We brought them home to show our parents who were cool about keeping them.
In the excitement, our dog turns up to see what's going on and sniff at the little fluffy balls.

Much to our surprise, the motherly instinct of the bitch took over and it started licking and playing with them. Our circle of furry friends was getting bigger, we were living the dream of 10 years old kids.

We had a special shoe box full of cotton for them to sleep at night but during the day, we would put them with the dog for a nap while we were playing outside. We decided that the dog was safe enough so they spent the night with it and all was well...

All was well for 3 nights until one morning, armed with a bunch of carrots to feed the little buggers, we only found a sleeping dog. Not a trace of the baby hares.

To this day, I hope the dog decided that they were big enough for the wild, opened the door and let them free.
The rest of that summer just wasn't the same.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 21:58, Reply)
Just like osok
Although it was the A68 at one of its hillier sections. Travelling up and over one of the 'if you go over 30 you will take off' hills a bunch of crows took off from the road in front of me. Unfortunately for them, so did I and collected one in the radiator.
The wind held it there and for a while I could see a wing tip and two feet over the front of my bonnet, until I came to a village and had to slow. Ah well - poor bird.
Travelling through said village various locals turned to gawk, so after a bit I stopped, assuming some major damage at the front of the car.

No damage to the car, unless you count the cooked brains of a crow splattered across my radiator. The crow was still there though, and took an awful lot of pulling to extract the mangled carcass from the car.

Smelled for days!!!
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 21:35, Reply)
Deserved it
I was driving a while back and hit a pigeon - at about 70mph - it died. A horrible bloody death - damaged my car and everything.

Oh, right, this is about unintentional cruelty....

Sorry - I'm afraid (terrified) of pigeons.....
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 21:05, Reply)
Okay I'll confess....
This was deliberate cruelty - of the worst sort. Before anyone phones the SSPCA, it wasn't a real animal!

Several years back, JuniorWitch #1 begged Santa for a Furby. Remember them? Horrible little things. Santa, in a moment of weakness, delivered.

All was fine initially. It was played with, it spoke (creepy) it did what Furbies were supposed to do.

The novelty soon wore off and the wee bugger was consigned to a shelf in the bedroom. Where it just sat there, sleeping.

Until, in the dead of night, Furby woke up. It started jabbering its nonsense. At 3am.

I staggered through, fumbled around in the dark, got my hands on it. Junior slumbers on, oblivious. This child doesn't go to sleep, she passes out. It's still talking. I stumble out of the room, put a light on and attempt to remember how to silence the thing. The more I fumble, the more it talks.

Why I didn't just take the batteries out I'll never know, but at 3am the thought processes are a bit skewed. Well, okay, very skewed.

Suddenly I couldn't be bothered any more, stumbled back to our room, opened the window and lobbed the thing into the garden. I have no idea if that killed it immediately. I don't care, either!

Then, of course, I had to shoot out there first thing in the morning, and hide the evidence of my cruelty in the wheelie bin. It was several weeks before she even noticed it had gone from the shelf, and even longer before I could watch Toy Story with a clear conscience! Thankfully, it never came back to get revenge.... so far, anyway.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 20:52, 2 replies)
I recently acquired a female ferret called Pudding (She's very fat, bless her), a lovely creature they're amazingly entertaining due to been extremely nosey and supremely stupid.

As some of you may know, when ferrets get excited they do this little 'War Dance' type thing, were they leap around, making squeeking noises and the like. Pudding typically does this anytime I tickle her stomach. I have a decent height bed and I regularly have her out on it, cue half the time when she is excited she starts leaping around from side to side

Straight of the side of the bed.

A ferret leaping into empty space and the look on its face when it suddenly realises whats happening is damn funny.

*note, no ferrets were hurt in the making of this story, the bed isnt THAT tall*
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 20:41, Reply)
Not exactly cruelty, but my other half accused me of kicking the cat - I merely "Moved the cat gently with my foot"


That's all I did.

PS - have you missed me :-)

Go on, tell me :-)
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 19:52, 4 replies)
not exactly cruel but...
i remember a teacher at college goin on about an experiment he'd heard of where the put special goggles on kittens that flipped the image vertically. then left them until they were used to it wand walked round as normal. then when the took the goggles off the kittens were walking round like drunkards for hours.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 19:26, 5 replies)
Ooh! Another one!
Reminded by Citadel's story:

A guy I knew was out hunting one day and had set up a deer stand in a tree. For those not familiar with this, it's basically a set of rungs that you attach to make the tree into a kind of ladder and perch. The idea, of course, is to get you up where the deer won't notice you.

George had just finished setting up his stand and went out with his bottle of doe scent to sprinkle around, to lure any horny bucks to the area. He returned to his stand and started climbing, and as he did the bottle of doe scent fell from his pocket and broke on the rungs of the stand, coating the bottom of the tree in eau du deer fanny. George cursed at losing an expensive bottle of scent, but otherwise thought little of it as he sat in the stand and fell asleep.

He was awakened some time later by the whole fucking tree shaking beneath him. He looked down and saw a buck repeatedly ramming his head into the tree- the aforementioned shaking- so he aimed down and shot the deer in mid batter.

As he related this tale to me, all I could think of was what the deer's last thoughts must have been: "Dammit!" *thud* "Dammit!" *thud* "Where is she!" *thud* "It's just a fucking tree!" *thud "I smell her!" *thud* "I wanna get laid-" *BAM!*

Poor bastard didn't even get a wank...
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 19:09, 2 replies)
At least he went with a smile on his face.
Not me but a friend of mine, who cant post yet has asked me to post this for her.

Picture the scene, Lily the hamster is being looked after by my mate Louise who is hamstersitting for her friend. This hamster takes particular interest in snuggling down between Louise's not inconsiderable breasts. She's a size 8 with 30F snuggle sacks for those of you who are interested. Louise, not the hamster, obviously.

Any way I digress. The hamster is sleeping quite happily between said boobs when overcome with tiredness herself louise falls asleep. To make a short story even shorter Lousie awakes to find a now suffocated hamster's carcass between her tits. A quick trip to Hamsters R Us in Shields and an even quicker Hamster style burial, results in no one suspecting a thing.

Length ? Seven days and she can then post under her own fucking name. (own profile name is snugglesacks)
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 18:47, 6 replies)
Film Making in West Virginia
Okay, so West Virginia gets a bad rap over here...primarily because cousins marry quite frequently, producing "Deliverance" quality extras at an alarming rate.

However, there is some great history in West Virginia (from a Yank definition of History, mind) and I was up in Harpers Ferry, WV filming for the motion picture "Gods and Generals."

One of the extras was this eminently likeable Welshman named Roger who was an AVID American Civil War reenactor IN the UK! He was such a great guy, we kind of adopted him and got him paid to be there as a paid extra. Plus we got him free hotel lodgings (the extras had to sort that out for themselves).

So Roger gets an invitation to Thanksgiving up in Gettysburg, PA by one of the lads. Thanksgiving is celebrated the last Thursday of November...which is deer mating/rutting season. Crazy deer all over the damned place...and when they smell a doe in rut (prepared to mate) they don’t pay attention to ANYthing other than getting to that doe.

Cue Roger, having spent a lovely day of eating and watching American football. The main dish on Thanksgiving is turkey and as many know, tryptophan helps nudge one to sleepy-town. So Roger is driving the 1 hour and 45 minutes from Gettysburg to Harpers Ferry in his rental car shortly after dusk.

Just then a deer gets a whiff of a doe in rut and takes off across the road!

Unfortunately for both parties, said launch time coincided with Rogers hurtling along, half awake along that very same road.

Result? One Toyota Corolla absolutely shattered/totaled and one VERY scared Roger. Accidental? Yes, I think it fits the definition on two levels.

Roger ended up almost having to PAY for the car because his rental insurance had lapsed the DAY BEFORE. Fortunately, he had a decent attorney who finagled some way out of it.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 18:42, 3 replies)
Saw a dying pigeon in the woods,
Its wings were both broke and it could only wriggle around the floor.

This dilemma is a hard one for someone whos only 13.
So me and my friends decided to kill it before a cat ate it alive, because we thought this would be better.

Well we stood around discussing who should do the deed and how.
We thought about hitting it with a big stick, standing on it etc..

Anyway my friend had had enough of the wimpyness, so being a rugby player he charged up to it and toe end kicked the pigeon as hard as he could.

It flew about 20 metres and hit a tree and slid down like they do in the cartoons.
Anyway, we discovered it wasnt dead and my friend had left the poor thing which was now just a bloody, wriggling mess, with what looked like a broken spine and ribs. None of us had the heart to try it again so we all ran away.

Pretty funny when I think about it, but very mean.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 18:28, Reply)
i am in a foul enough mood today (fucking clients) to suggest that some people need to learn the meaning of the word "accidental". apologies for preaching.

i once fed a chocolate caramel to my friend's miniature dachshund. i had no idea dogs shouldn't eat chocolate; i was only about 9. the poor little thing's jaws got completely stuck together. its eyes bulged and its head twisted and its ears flapped. so did mine. i was beginning to panic when it gasped, wrenched its teeth apart, and howled.

i would have gotten away with it if the little shit hadn't dribbled caramel coloured chocolatey saliva all over the back seat of my friend's father's brand new RR...
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:55, 5 replies)
A hat-trick on this QOTW!
Lived in barracks in Germany and a colleague had two chipmunks in his room. One night, on returning back to his room drunk, turns and shouts at the chipmunks for making too much noise in their cage. The shock is too much for one of the poor little beasts and he croaks it on the spot. I reckon it was the beer breath from all the german ale!

So, we're down to one chipmunk!

The same guy it turns out is banging the missus of one of the other guys in the unit. This eventually gets discovered and he's sent away to a different unit, but unable to take the remaining chipmunk. I volunteer to look after it and everything is happy for some time afterwards.......until I get told Im deploying to Ireland!

After paying a load of beer tokens to a room mate and buying all the food etc to last 6 months, Im shipped off to the emerald isle. Tour over, I arrive back in Germany and can't wait to see the little chipmunk again. Walking into the room, the cage is empty, completely clear of bedding, food, water.....everything!!

I storm off to find the guy who was supposed to look after it, grab him and ask WTF happened to my chipmunk???

'It got run over' was his reply! 'Run over...RUN OVER!!! HTF does it get run over in its cage on the second floor of a barrack block??' I enquire.

'Well.....' he says.....'We let it out of the cage one afternoon, but forgot to close the window. It was up the curtain, out of the window and sat on the window ledge. We tried to open the window and grab it, but it 'fell' off, hit the ground...but it was OK. Then it ran into the road outside the block as a 4 tonner went past and didnt make it'.

So, no more chipmunks! There is however, my mates hamster!

He lived with his german wife and her gorgeous little *insert awfully translated sickly sweet pet name for a hamster here*. They had a habit of letting the hamster run around in the kitchen for a little while while they ate dinner in the living room. Always careful, my mate puts the light on to make sure he doesnt tread on the little mite when he takes the plates back in the kitchen.

Then, one day he's a bit worse for wear after a few hours in the unit bar, decides that he cant juggle plates and hit the lights, doesnt want to upset the missus with broken crockery of course. So, shoves the door open and very carefully steps across the kitchen.......CRUNCH!!

Dropping the plates in surprise at the soft, squishy and slight crunchy thing under his boots, he steps back. His missus runs into the kitchen at the sound of the dishes hitting the floor, flicks the lights on just as her little hamster is doing its best impression of roadkill. Poor little thing didnt expire though, mate had to snap its neck :/
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:53, Reply)
Even more seagulls.
Not me, but I witnessed.

A rather non-conservation-minded angler on a pier tied fish hooks to both ends of about 6 feet of line and baited them up. They threw a few scraps around to get the gulls feeding, then threw the 'trap'.

I've never done this myself. I'm too tight to waste decent hooks - they're expensive! and frankly, you have to be more of a cnut than I actually am. I do, however, have an intense dislike of the flying, bait-robbing, shit-bombing, pestering feckers.

The sight of two gulls, unable to fly separately, flapping around like a married couple having a full-on domestic is (I'm ashamed to say) exceptionally funny.

Length? I told you - 6 foot with a hook on each end!
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:34, 2 replies)
Sleepy puddy tat, sleepier now.
Possibly a pea, and best details are eroded by hash abuse so I'll keep it short.

The missus was on a late shift and I left the house to picke her up at 10pm. I felt a slight bump when reversing from my parking space, but presumed that I'd been close to the divider or something. Got home to see that a rather cute black (and pretty large) kitty must have been the 'bump' I felt and it managed to stagger 2 or 3 steps before expiring. I've read about some pretty stupid cats this week, but deciding not to move when someone gets into the car you're under & starts it up??!!

Being consciencious and practical, I picked it p by the tail (It would've reacted if it were still alive) and put it in a nearby wheelie-bin to stop it being shredded & spread across the streeet by foxes.

The cruelty part is that my wife thought I would get into all sort of bother for killing the cat. She actually believed that I would be arrested for not reporting it / prosecuted by the RSPCA for putting it in a bin / become the most hated resident in the street (we didn't know anybody anyway!) / go to jail for cat theft etc. She thought I was being incredibly cruel by the convulsions of laughter I was in, but didn't realise that it was due to the shit she was coming out with.

Length? No more than two feet before it dropped.
(, Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:24, Reply)

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