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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, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I have, on a number of occasions, baited SickRik on /talk.
In retrospect, I do feel slightly guilty about it, as he is quite intelligent for a monkey.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 16:29, Reply)
Gerbil terror
All this talk of gerbils has reminded me of a recent incident at a friend's house.
She had recently bought a gerbil and seeing as I have a pet rat I was full of confidence handling the little fluff ball as I felt that I had a natural affinity with rodents.

Anyway, this particular rodent was called Gabriel and was a sweet-looking, hyperactive white creature. She appeared to be enjoying herself immensely as she grappled her way up my jumper, into my hood, sniffed my ears etc all the while practically buzzing with pent-up nervous energy.

After a while she seemed to tire of this and settled down on the palm of my left hand which was resting on my lap. I thought that this was extremely cute and so stroked one of her small, white rodenty cheeks. Her eyes closed and she seemed to be working her jaw in a contended fashion. "Awww.." I thought to myself. "She's going to drift off to sleep. I am indeed the Gerbil Whisperer!".

No sooner had this triumphant thought crossed my mind than the gerbil - obviously sensing that my guard was down - sank it's evil, sharp teeth into the soft flesh of my index finger – right to the very bone.

I had to suppress the first 2 instincts that I had - the first being to squeeze the little fucker and the second to flick it across the room, but I had to think fast! I didn't really want to hurt the little morsel of evil but at the same time, blood was already starting to bead and drip from my injured digit in a rather alarming fashion (I hate the sight of blood).

I am not proud to announce that I did something disgusting. Something that my pain and alarm-riddled brain decided would be a great idea - the very best idea at removing this toothsome puffball from my flesh.

Ladies and gentlemen, I *licked* the gerbil in the face. I smothered it's startled little beady-eyed noggin with a generous amount of my rather copious, stale-fags-and-alcohol infused saliva.

The effect was remarkable! Count Gerbula released it's death-grip from my finger and started spluttering uncontrollably – fur matted with my spit (and some of my blood). Sensing my chance, I quickly scooped it up and stuffed it back in it's cage - ensuring that I had clipped the door securely shut.

Now I don't know if any of you has ever heard a gerbil growl but the noise emanating from the satanic little beast was unlike anything I had ever heard before outside of the film 'The Exorcist'. It was evidently enraged and started to try and attack me through the cage - charging the bars and biting them unrelentingly. I was actually quite disturbed at this and so nursing my injured finger, I quietly slunk out of the room and never mentioned the incident to anyone.

A few weeks later, my friend happily discovered that she was pregnant and asked me if I would like to take her gerbil off her hands as she didn't feel that she wanted it any more. She knew that I kept rodents and thought that I would be the ideal candidate.

Panic gripped my soul and I mumbled something about not having enough room for it. Secretly though, my heart was racing and the fear of the evidently possessed creature pipetted itself into my veins. I hastily made my escape and thanked my lucky stars that I managed to avoid the gerbil of evil being berthed at my house… watching, waiting and plotting it’s revenge…
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 16:27, 7 replies)
Rabits are fucking crap we had 2 called...Stevie and Queeny, after Steve Mcqueen. We had a massive garden and used to let them pretty much do what they like, the little prick jockeys used to get stuck under the shed with their legs sticking out flailling about.

Then one night a big dog came into our garden but the rabbits would be safe because they would be in their hutch....No the dog barked at them through the hutch and they both had heat attacks and dropped dead! Rubbish!

First post yeh...

massive cock etc.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 16:21, Reply)
I think "accidental cruelty" is a contradiction in terms, as cruelty is defined as "deliberate infliction of pain or suffering" (look it up).

So this thread should really be called "accidental animal harm."


In September I acquired a dilute tortoiseshell kitten, Tammy.

I love her, she loves me, all is well. But as she is so little I have accidentally trod on her a few times, and once I shut her in a door. That was horrible - she made a piercing shrieking noise and hid from me for ages, but was OK after a while.

I have also sat on her - she was sitting in my ass-groove on the sofa, so I moved her out of the way, only for her to move back as my enormous arse descended on her. She scooted out between my legs faster than anything I've ever seen.

I also dropped a screwdriver in her metal water bowl whilst she was drinking from it.

Sorry Tammy!

She also has some strange habits - if I'm lying in the nude she will lick my armpits and try to bite my nipples.

And once after I let her back into my bedroom after I'd had a wank, she ate a stray blob of cum from off the duvet.

So, my cat has eaten my cum.

Length? Wouldn't you like to know!
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:58, 4 replies)
Rabbits Scream
I did not know this, until my sister thought her rabbit would enjoy being shoved into her dolls house and then the front shut.
Most horrible noise I have ever heard
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:55, Reply)
More Gerbils
My first pets were 2 gerbils
Captain Fred and Sergeant Joe
One of the little buggers bit 5 year old me right on the knuckle (I stil have the scar) I did what any sensible child would do, wail and flail my hand about trying to shake of the bitey little fucker. All to no avail, the little shit is still firmly clamped on my throbbing finger, so I took the next course of action available to me and smacked it on the chest freezer until it let go and flew off down the back. Took Mother 2 hours to coax the little shit back out.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:54, Reply)
Hunting Rabbit
My first day's hunting, spent hours crawling about a field with a mate trying to get within 25 yards of a rabbit to shoot one. I got close enough eventually and took aim and fired.
GREAT SUCCESS rabbit leaps a few feet and then lays on the floor twitching. Instead of swiftly dealing a death blow to end the rabbits misery I decide a shot to the head is in order.
8 shots later and I still have a twitching corpse at my feet, too squeamish to do anything more I left the rabbit there until it stopped moving.
It did turn out to be a tasty rabbit though and the friend that cooked it went on to become a succesfull chef!
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:49, Reply)
School Gerbil
Now i have never had a small rodent of my own, but my sister has had many hammies.
One summer holiday, my sister got her school gerbil to look after for 2 weeks. Sounded real easy until we found out they are long rear legged f*ckers whom bite and jump.

The problem was my dad is normally pretty relaxed on things had to hold the ickle fooker whilst she changed some bedding.

The gerbil then decided to bite, and bite hard. My dad calmy flicked the gerbil off the end of his finger, 5 ft across the room into a wall. It hit, was dazed, and spent about 10 minutes being very confused. It was an accident. honest.

Karma hit back strong and within half hour my dads arm swelled. and continued until he had to go to A&E. He then sat for 5 hours waiting whilst the first day of the footie season brought in all manner of pub players in agony with broken ankles, sprains etc from simply being out of shape since last season.

All he had was 2 tiny puncture wounds, and tetanus moving up his arm.

One jab later, and many hours, his accident was over.
The next carer for the gerbil wasn't so careful and there was simply no more gerbil the following term.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:47, Reply)
Sisters Rabit
Called Smokey Joe or some other stupid girly name.
Lived in a hutch at the bottom of the garden next to the shed / workshop. I used to shoot my air rifles down the garden into the shed. One day bored of punching holes in paper and knocking tin cans about I decided I needed more of a challenge... I opened the shed door so it was edge on and tried to hit the lock on it... I succeeded!
Unfortunately the pellet ricochet's into the rabits hutch and causes the poor rabbit to have a heart attack and pop its clogs!
I quickly packed away and kept schtum for the rest of the day.
The following day my sister discovers her expired pet and the tears flow. General concensus is that a Fox worried the rabbit in the night and caused the untimely demise.
I never did own up to that
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:46, Reply)
School Guniea Pigs
We used to have GP's as the schools pet when in Primary school. We had to cue up each break to take turns in petting them. J. Bowers was at the front of the Cue, he was a large child. A. Foy was at the back of the cue, he was a trouble maker..... EEEEEK squish, crunch
2 Flat GP's
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:42, Reply)
Y'all have convinced me
I am never allowing my children to have gerbils. They are the gateway pet to disaster.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 15:38, Reply)
Cats and Snakes
Just found this while stumbling and it reminded me of (yet) another farm story....

The other summer my monster sized black cat, Mog was out in the garden lazing around and enjoying the sun.

The kids had gone off for a walk with granny, the farmer was busy either combining or on a tractor somewhere and I had a precious half hour or so to put the washing on the line (yes, my life was thoroughly exciting in those days).

I wandered up the garden with my basket of wet clothes and noticed that Mog was worrying something in the long grass over by the bushes.

I saw something brownish wriggling right under Mog's nose...something quite large from the look of it. A rat's nest perhaps? It certainly seemed to be wriggling like a load of baby rats. And despite not liking rats, I didn't want the cat to slaughter a load of babies. So I decided to intervene, and was about to grab the cat and drag him away (picking him up really isn't an option, he's huge and heavy). But as I moved closer I realised that this was no nest of rats but a fully grown SNAKE!!!!

So I tried to shoo the cat away, particularly as I could see blood...whose I wondered?

Then I ran back to the shed by the house to get a bloody big shovel to whack the evil adder that was trying to kill my lovely fluffeh pussycat.

The only bloody big shovel I could find was actually a small dainty planting spade, but in this instance it would have to do.

I ran back to the cat and evil viper - the cat was still standing over its attacker and I knew what I had to do....kill it with the dainty planting spade - the snake, not the cat.

So there I am, dainty spade in hand, poised to beat a snake to a pulp...I take a deep breath....and....WHACK!

Well, actually more of a smack and the snake didn't move.

I was shaking...I had *killed* something. But I had protected my cat.

I picked up the lifeless reptile body on the spade and carried it (at arm's length) to the path, thankful that the children hadn't been there too to see me murder something.

Then I decided to go in search of another adult to help me deal with the snake's body and to determine if the cat had been done any mortal damage.

A tractor drove past so I ran out to see if it was the farmer...no, his father. I flagged him down and told him in a slightly hysterical manner that I had just killed a snake and could he come and help me deal with it...

Erm....Snake you say?

No. Can't help...frightened of them.

And with that he slammed the cab door and drove off.

So I run over to the farm to find someone else to help me...the place is deserted.

Well, I think to myself, the snake is dead so I'll just pop back and check on the cat.

I get back, the cat is lying under a bush snoozing in the late afternoon sun. I check him all over...no sign anywhere of bites, puncture wounds or blood...

I go over to where I had left the snake....all that remains is a little pool of blood...snake blood.

Had I killed it? No idea.

Had the cat eaten it? Knowing that beast it's quite possible.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:54, 2 replies)
I accidently trod on a kitten's tail once. I should have been watching where I was placing my feet, but in my defence, I was having rigorous and hectic anal sex with The Bishop of Durham at the time, so I can be forgiven for not noticing it, I hope
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:43, Reply)
Poor fish
In my second year of uni, whilst living in a shared house with some friends, two of my flatmates decided to buy some fish from the randomly placed fish shop down the road.

Lovely pretty fish, we thought. One of them had gigantic eyes - all was good in the world.

Except then they all caught some scary fish disease that involved their gills going all bloody and gapey, and one by one they floated to the top of the tank.

Unfortunately one of them just swam on its back, obviously distressed, opening its mouth in a prolonged death gasp. So my kindly flatmate decided to put it out of its misery by wrapping it in a teatowel and smashing it repeatedly with a frying pan until it was a scaly mess of guts. We were so freaked out we threw the teatowel in a pile on the floor and sat there shaking with fear for a few hours.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:19, Reply)
In today's guardian online
A video of a mouse genetically bred to be unafraid of cats. But the cat seems quite uncomfortable:

(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:14, 9 replies)
Cat Deaths
My girlfriend is an arable farmer's daughter, but to make up for lack of livestock they have an army of feral cats that live in the out buildings. They are mangey buggers, stunted in growth with mottled fur and usually have pussy eyes(full of puss, not cute and cat-like, although they are obviously cat-like because they belong to said cats). They are constantly breeding and so there is a steady stream of cute kittens being produced. If they are born in the warmer months, they stand a good chance of survival, but if they spring to life in winter they stand a cat in hells chance. Boom boom. These kittens have perished in almost every way imaginable, from falling asleep under car bonnets only to be burned alive on ignition to freezing to death. More examples include falling into the urea tank ("it blew up like a green balloon"), being mown by tractor mower, eaten by another cat ("It just chewed its head off") and being mistaken for a rabbit by lampers. The most quoted is the famous kitten massacre of 1997 when two rotweillers from a next door farm got into the stack yard and tossed about 20 kittens into the air with gay abandon as the whole family looked on in horror. Needless to say my girlfriend is fairly numb to animal cruelty now.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 14:07, Reply)
16years ago (ish)
A good friend of mine got killed by a pigeon..??!

He was riding his 125cc hair-drier bike when one flew in front of him whilst he was doing approximately 75mph, smack bang into his helmet and broke his neck, (and probably the pigeons too)

We were at college doing a Btec in small animal care at the time (well not exactly at that time obviously)

If he was still with us he'd have found it funny/ironic.

R.I.P Jez

(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 13:59, 3 replies)
My Cat...
...first off, I love my cat. Although what I did to him was kind of harsh, and to this day, he has trust issues where i am concerned, the fat ginger bundle of matted fur has being a loyal companion for about 10 years now.

...anyway. My cat has always been the "eyes bigger than his belly" type, sniffing at or helping himself to anything that is on offer or just left un-attended for too long.

One day I had purchased some of those breath strips that looks like small sheets of plastic and dissolved on your tounge... his crying at me and sniffing of the box made me decide to call his bluff (all his fault y'see).

I broke a small peice of a strip of and placed it on his tounge..... for about 15 minutes he jumped around our back garden foaming at the mouth and sneezing....

His breath smelt lovely though
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 13:15, 3 replies)
Not me, I promise!
My sister has had 6 pets – 2 hamsters, one of which killed itself under its wheel, the other I forget what happened to it, probably hung itself. Next she had 2 gerbils, woke up to find one gerbil and remnants of fur and feet. Next she had a mouse which filled the room up with the smell of it’s’ urine. Then she got a cat, it spent two weeks inside the house, then when it was allowed outside got run over by a car.

We’re thinking of getting her a pet rock this Christmas, at least she can’t be cruel to that!

Length? It covered a 2 metre square area and it took ages to clean the road.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 13:04, Reply)
Farmers and Combines
Not all farmers are uncaring when it comes to livestock and wildlife.

A friend of mine was combining a field of wheat a couple of harvests back when he saw a pheasant hen running in front of the combine.

He slowed down and hoped that she would run to the side away from the header which was rolling ever closer towards her, but she didn't.

He came to a stop, and still she wasn't moving off. At this point he suspected there was a good reason for her not wishing to move out of the way of a giant Claas Lexion monster...

He jumped out of the cab and went to investigate....

There in the wheat was a small nest of pheasant chicks, barely a day or two old, each tweeting, mouths open and angled up towards the gently swaying crop and the blue sky above.

Their mother, even more scared and protective of her offspring was squawking at K, the farmer.

Knowing that these birds were in line for certain death if he left them there, K carefully lifted the rough pheasant nest and slowly walked to the edge of the field.

Once there he placed them and their home in some long grass on the verge and stepped back hoping that their mother would see it was safe and reclaim her babies.

All appeared to go well, the pheasant hen trotted over and sorted out her brood.

K got back into his combine and continued to harvest the field.

He thought no more of his small act of kindness until his wife came at lunchtime to join him with a picnic lunch.

In a 4x4.

She drove across the field to get to him.

She didn't know there was anything in the long grass on the verge.

She didn't understand why he didn't want to eat a piece of cold game pie.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:56, 8 replies)
Probably not the first time it's happened to someone, but;
Once my mother was putting the washing in the machine and realised she'd left a shirt or something upstairs and went to get it, she got back down and popped it in, set it to whatever wash and went out.

When she came to empty it she pulled out my now passed away (but very clean) kitten.

Poor thing had climbed in when she went upstairs.

On telling this story to a work colleague 2 minutes ago he said a similar thing happened to his Mum except it was a tumble drier - and they had to get a new one. :-(

Poor pussies...

Oh, and she cleaned the new fish tank glass with bleach once.....

(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:52, 2 replies)
It's not just apeloverage and pooflake, y'know...
My uncle Sidney was a vet, and specialised in maxillofacial sugery - although he did have a reputation for being rather brutal when a tooth proved hard to extract. In fact, he acquired the nickname "Axe Sid" for the devil-may-care attitude with which he sometimes performed opertations - he really should have been struck off.

(You can see where this is headed, can't you?)

Many of his clients complained that their pets had come out rather the worse for wear after Axe Sid's dental cruelty.

(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:03, 2 replies)
stupid allergies
i've never been able to have a cat or a dog as most of them make me sneeze too much.

it always amuses me when cat/dog owners try to say that their cat/dog farts. surely cats and dogs don't really do this? it must just be the owner blaming their own disgusting flatulence on an innocent dumb animal. how cruel.

last time i was home, i thought our budgie (captain beaky) would like to sit with me in the study whilst i was working. suddenly realising it had been very quiet for a while, i wondered where it had gone. it had stuffed itself into a gap on the bookshelf and was busily chewing away at the erect cock of a horrid little naked statue that my dad or brother or someone was once given by some secretaries at work.

talk about hours of pecking pleasure (well, ok, normal people don't, but manufacturers of budgie toys do).

the statue is now in the bin, which is where it should have gone years ago.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:56, 20 replies)
Oxford's Cock
This time last year, I was living with the Librarian Girlfriend in a flat in Pittsburgh, with a roommate who shall remain nameless (for politeness' sake). Said roommate had a cat named Oxford, who was a funny little beast, as cats tend to be.

Oxford wasn't allowed outside, because we lived on quite a busy road. I've never lived with an indoors-cat before. It was strange, and a little sad to see him perched on the radiator against the window, gazing out at the birds and wondering where they go when he can't see them.

I have a theory about indoors-only cats. They're all nuts.

Oxford, in particular, was a fat, filthy little fucking pervert who had the horn for my girlfriend and was not in the slightest bit shy about it. He'd scrabble against the door trying to gain entry when we were having (or trying to have) some "alone" time; he had a perverse fascination with the bathroom and would try his best to follow if he heard you open the door to pee; he adored waking you up by waving his fuzzy little balls in your face (and, sometimes, farting at you too); he enjoyed the occasional shoe humping, and, perhaps most disturbingly, the LGF's underwear would occasionally go missing and turn up in his litterbox, liberally smeared with every conceivable form of feline bodily emission.

Anyway. On to the partially-accidental cruelty. Partially because I did actually mean to do this and freak him out just a little bit, but I didn't expect it to have such a dramatic effect.

LGF was at work. I'm at home, in the bedroom, on the bed, laptop out and trying to get some work done while the first load of laundry goes through. Stay-at-home husband, and all that. Oxford is lying next to me - not so he can be cuddly and close like a nice cat, you understand, but because I have a Dell laptop and it gets so hot it'll warm the room up in winter. I feel movement, and Oxford's sitting up, yawning, stretching and leaving the bed.

A few minutes go past. I hear the occasional rustle of fabric and fur. Eventually, I begin to wonder what's going on, and I look towards the source of the noise. Oxford has left the bed, and climbed into the pile of worn female underwear awaiting the next wash. He's rolling from side to side, entangled in a pair of pink panties, grinning a little kitty grin.

He also has a tiny, glistening pink erection.

He stops rolling momentarily as our eyes meet. I can tell he's pondering whether to carry on shamelessly, or whether to slink off and keep a low profile. He takes a pair of faded pink panties into his mouth, and chews thoughtfully, his swollen kittycock twinkling in the morning sun.

Now, I've never seen a cat with an erection before. I didn't know that they were all... well, lubed-up like that. To this day, I don't know whether they just come like that, or if he was licking it before I looked down. Anyway, "That glisteny wetness," thinks I, "will make for good thermal transfer. I wonder what would happen if..."

I lean over towards him, slowly so as not to frighten him and spoil the fun. He stops chewing and watches me. When I'm about a foot away from him, I purse my lips, and blow directly at his cock.

It's a cold room, and the skin is wet. Think about rubbing an ice cube on your genitals.

There's an immediate result. Oxford jerks and rolls over to escape his own freezing willy, but it doesn't seem to work, so he rolls the other way - still not working! He kicks off from the floor with both feet, propelling himself like a furry, horny rocket as fast and as far away from me as he can - but his back legs don't quite catch up exactly right. They're entangled in pants! He's falling! He's sliding across the shiny wooden floors - all the way out of the bedroom, across the hall and into the kitchen! What's more, he's been struggling and rolling all the way, fat bastard that he is - and he's managed to get himself even more tangled in the pants!

I step over to what is now a hissing, spitting ball of hatred with a pre-worn pair of knickers somehow simultaneously trapping three feet and covering one eye, and gently remove the panties. Oxford slinks off to sulk in the corner, but not before giving me a look that seems to scream "You disgust me."

Length: about an inch and a half, with a furry base.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:46, 7 replies)
This one is really more a case of cruelty to the owner and not the animal....

And my apologies in advance for the general nature of my posts this week which all seem to concern farms...Yes, it was just like the Archers.

Sometime ago when I was still with the farmer I kept a few goats - all females. Goats only need to produce kids every other year in order for them to keep milking (unlike cows who need to go in calf annually or else their milk dries up).
Anyway, three of my goats needed to be put to a buck so we could have some kids and keep up milking them too. So I began a search for some likely looking boyfriends for my girls - they were stunning girls and I knew I'd have no problem finding a fit buck or two for them. The evidence of their beauty is here.

So, after looking online for caprine gigolos I eventually discovered a rather handsome looking chap living not far from the farm.

Off I went to view the goods...and yes, I did feel rather like a pimp.

In the depths of the Kentish countryside I found this rather ramshackle and run down smallholding. The owner was a rather quiet and reserved widow who didn't look at all like the usual livestock farmer or part of the horsey/dog set. It transpired that her late husband had been the farmer and she had simply made jam and fed the chickens sometimes.

She took me out into the field where half a dozen goats were grazing - all female except for this huge white beast who resembled a small buffalo and stunk like month old goat's cheese.

The does all seemed entirely oblivious to his rather overpowering presence and continued to chomp away at the grass, the hedge and the trees while he sniffed around them.

All in all a lovely bucolic scene.

Until one of the does decided to answer the call of nature.

She shifted her weight a little so as not to splash her legs and began to pee.....The huge white buck lifted his nose in the air and began to gallop across the field at full pelt. I felt more than a little nervous - male goats may not be as big as a bull, but they are just as mean and dangerous potentially.
He thunders across to the pretty petite doe and then skids to a halt at her rear end...She's still peeing...

He drops his head right into the sparkling flow, rolls his top lip back into an Elvis-esque sneer and then bellows like only a buck in rutting season can.

The widow looks at me, back at the goats and then, red-faced exclaims, "My word! Well, thank goodness people don't behave like that!"

And before I could stop myself....*hangs head in shame*...I opened my mouth and blurted out,
"Clearly you don't know the type of people I do"

I'm not sure who was more embarrassed.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:45, 6 replies)
It seems to be Farmer Story time on the QOTW
So I'll add one of mine.

Once a farm dog can no longer work on a farm, it is usually retired to the farmhouse (or sometimes adopted) to live out the rest of its days in lazy peacefulness, whilst a younger model takes over its duties.

One of the farmers in my village (there are a lot of farmers in a small village, and they're all related) loved his dog a lot. This is the dog mentioned here: www.b3ta.com/questions/animalcruelty/post105720). It was old, arthritic, deaf and short-sighted. He just let it ride in his tractor cab all day. They would keep each other company, and both were perfectly happy.

Until one day, when they were wandering around a field during harvest time, watching the combines. The dog, being deaf and nearly blind, didn't see the second combine coming until it was on top of it. Literally. The dog got harvested.

(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:29, 5 replies)
cocks can be cruel
My friend is a farmer. The least likely looking farmer you'll meet. he looks like a young Rolf Harris. and is pretty arty to boot.
He rang me up one evening to tell me that a rooster kept attacking him. it would wait til he would come into the field and then launch himself at his face. his father kept making up excuses to send him into the field just so he could laugh at the hi-jinx. now my friend has glasses, which i pointed out should form some kind of protection. i also pointed out that HE WAS A SIX FOOT FARMER FROM THE WEST OF IRELAND and this animal isn't something he should he should be scared of!He replied "But he's fast, and agile"...to which i suitably burst out laughing.
a few Days later he rang me and told me that he had tried to fight of the rooster with a brush, it didn't work so he just threw the brush at the rooster. i only wish i could have seen the goofiness but the mental images are priceless.

i mean really unless the rooster was like the one Peter has a on going battle with in Family Guy, this is not a creature a grown man should be scared of

eventually the rooster became too cocky (ahem) and started attacking his father. Who broke his neck.

Apparently although kind of tough, it was the most satisfying meal my friend ever had. The wuss.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:20, Reply)
Accidentally pureed hamster
I must have been 9 years old at the time. I was at a day-care center with other hyperactive children in a play area that included a) a small portable see-saw sort of thing made from metal tubing, b) piles of nondescript, broken toys, and c) a cage with a hamster in it. Two kids were on both seats of the see-saw, swaying back and forth like some sort of mutant rocking chair.

Someone ran over and let the hamster out of the cage, playing with it on the floor. The hamster, likely driven insane by being surrounded by (from its point of view) 50-foot-tall screaming giants, darted about the room evading their hands as they attempted to grab it.

I have no idea where the caretaker was during this episode.

At this point I was on one of the seats of the see-saw as it rocked back and forth on the carpet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and CRUNCH.

I looked down. The curved metal foot of the see-saw had nailed the hamster across the hindquarters, crushing it flat.

I leaped off the see-saw in horror as the hamster ran off as fast as its forelegs could drag it. It only made it about ten feet before stopping. The other kids in the room were behaving in a manner I wouldn't witness until the south tower of the World Trade Center collapsed 21 years later.

The vision of that poor little bugger vainly attempting to flee despite its entire lower body pulverised... I will take it with me to my grave.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:19, Reply)
A quick and nasty one
Reading Pounana's below reminded me of this one...

As many of you know I used to live on a farm...with the obligatory farmer.

One of our neighbours had a poor reputation as far as livestock was concerned - not so much cruelty as simply not seeming to really care enough (well, not by my standards anyway).
On many occasions I would end up rounding up escaped sheep - admittedly sheep to have two desires in life - to escape and to die, if they can achieve both at the same time they are truly happy.

Anyway, I digress....

Many years ago the family had an ageing sheep dog which accompanied the farmer everywhere.
One day the farmer and his men were in one of the orchards checking on the water level in one of the small reservoirs. These reservoirs are like concrete lined swimming pools, they fill up with rain water and then are used when necessary for things like crop spraying (those chemicals don't go on neat).

According to the story the old sheepdog chased after a rabbit and fell into the reservoir...I'm not so sure, a good sheepdog is rather like a Guide dog - they're working animals who know how to behave. The dog ended up in the reservoir and was unable to get out...it was deep and entirely smooth sided.

The farmer saw that his dog wasn't getting out so he simply called to one of his men to shoot it.

Fortunately one of the men went in and rescued the dog.

Personally I'm of the opinion that someone should have shoved the farmer in after his dog and shot him instead. I honestly believe that if you take on the responsibility of keeping livestock or animals as pets for that matter, then it's also your responsibility to care for their wellbeing to the best of your ability - even if you do intend to eat them at some point.

Although, of course he wasn't intending to eat the dog...I think.

Rant Over.
(, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 11:16, 3 replies)

This question is now closed.

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