The most disgusting sensation...
When I was but a feckless student, our house- like many other student residences- had an infestation of slugs. Dirty little bleeders would get everywhere, given half a chance, and the number of them decimated by insidious salt traps never seemed to dissuade them. Must be the lack of a cerebral cortex.
Anyway. One evening I had gone to the back door to enjoy a delicious cigarette, and as I was planning on smoking it on the doorstep, hadn't bothered with shoes.

More fool me.

Have you ever stood on a slump, juicy slug with just your socks on? It's the most disgusting sensation I've ever experienced. All its sluggy viscera ended up soaking through my socks and between my toes. Now i always put my shoes on when going for a tab.

Fuck the cruelty to animals- I got more than my deserts for killing that slug.
( CaptainCrackerjack live trout, slow motion, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 13:01, 4 replies)

That Duck!
Crossing the Thames on a footbridge I casually spat out a well chewed piece of gum into the water below. A duck rushed out of nowhere and grabbed the gum before if sank. The duck realising it's error tried to rid itself of the gum by swimming back and forth wobbling it's half open beak in the water and all the while quacking in a distressed manner.

Eventually the duck managed to dislodge the gum and paddled off, I however was in hysterics. My mates asked me what I was laughing at and all I could say between giggles was "that duck", "that duck"!
( Vambo, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 12:59, Reply)

S&M cats...or something like that
When I lived at home we had 4 cats, one of them, a huge black and white monster called Tobermoray (Toby) was mental to say the least.

When my mum had cleaned the kitchen, bleaching the white work surfaces in there, the cat would start slavering and get very excited, leaping up and rolling all over them - to the extent that he actually bleached some of his black fur to a weird brown colour. He'd get really aggressive if you tried to move him. It never seemed to bother him, and we were just a bit amazed that he'd get so excited by bleach!

He also blew up a tv once - he used to p!$$ on everything possible - and aimed directly at it while it was on - causing it to go up in sparks and smoke - he looked a bit suprised...he probably enjoyed the cheap thrill tho, the sicko lol
( curvylittlegoth heard the voices in your head on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 12:51, 4 replies)

Walkies!
Our Jack-Russels were great little dogs, because most of the family are lazy though, they didn't often get a decent long walk. Usually once around the block was their limit.

When I was about 15 I decided to rectify this and take the younger of the two for a good run. Calculating that the dogs pace was quicker than mine, I opted to use my bike - levelling the field so-to-speak. We rode / trotted for about 3 miles with my faithful hound following close behind me. Stopping only for me to call into the shop.

The dog was exceptionally tired when we got home, she lapped frantically at her water, then flopped on the floor by the radiator from where she barely moved until the next morning.

I should have realised that taking my rather unfit dog on the equivalent of a forced-pace marathon wasn't really doing her a favour.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 12:44, Reply)

Fish diets
Fish can't survive on beer on crisps alone. They need a balanced diet like the rest of us.

And off-topic, but my Jack Russel is cruel to me for making me watch him eat another dog's shit, puke it up again, then eat it again. Nice.



Centimetres are more, but count less.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 12:03, Reply)

Mayonessa's story reminds me of a similar incident chez Hatred.
One of my parent's cats- a huge, furry creature called Jasper who was very dim but extremely good natured was sat on the work surface next to the cooker. My mother absent mindedly stroked his head as she walked past causing an involuntary movement of Jasper's tail- through the flame of the gas hob. This caused the very furry apendage to light and burn with some vigour. Although Jasper seemed unperturbed by this, my mother horrified at the sight, looked round for something to extinguish the cat. She was forced to use the only source of liquid available- her glass of wine to put the cat out. What was amusing with hindsight was that Jasper showed no alarm to being on fire but responded with the typical distain of a cat towards liquid. He was even less impressed when realising that he smelt like an All Bar One at closing time, we had to bathe him.

We learned over the course of Jasper's very long life that his fur was so dense that minor inconveniences such as being set alight took a while to register with his tiny brain. With this infomation learned, my mother paid more attention to his proximity to the cooker.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 11:30, Reply)

Hot Dogs.
Amongst the plethora of engineering-based holiday/summer jobs I've had, One of my favourites was with a tiny-one-man-band of a company that built and restored/repaired potato sorting machinery. Wintertime we'd build, Summertime we'd repair on site as students stood waiting for their potato sorting to begin.


Oneday we turned up at a local farm to give his star-wheel-cleaner a service before the picking season began, and noticed Shep - One of the farm Dogs - hiding behind a barn. We thought nowt of it.

Later on in the day one of the farm-hands happend to mention that "since laast night, Shep's been gorn". We dug deeper and found out why.

The night before, Shep and his owner had been off to the local as per normal... but Shep'd done what dogs do best, and rolled in a the carcass of a dead and rotting badger on the roadside: he obviously loved the smell. His owner disagreed, and - in a flash of drunk inspiration though it'd be the perfect opertunity to test the new toy that he'd had delivered that very afternoon. Shep was tied to a post as the new diesel-fired steam-washer was wheeled out.

The farmer had then proceeded to steam-wash Shep, blissfully unaware that he ran a very real risk of stripping the skin right off the poor hound. Squealing and terrified, Shep had unsurprisingly bolted the moment he was released.

A week later, Shep was trusting his owner again. Choice bones from the butcher were on his daily menu a long time after that: The farmer had tried it on his own hand after Shep had bolted and realised what he'd done... He was a very sorry man.

Totally accidental: the old fella had no idea of the power that steam washer had: hed simply assumed it was the modern equivalent of a hot hose-pipe. =(
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 13 Dec 2007, 11:29, Reply)

what a
shit story!
(boosh, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 11:15, 1 reply)

Aminal Croo Well Tea
I stamped on a badgers face, for a laugh. The stripey cunt!
(keeferreefer, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 11:13, 2 replies)

Fried or Boiled?
When I was just 10 or so my brother had 2 gerbils, a black one (called snowflake for some bizarre reason) and a white one.

One day I decided (God knows why) to put the white gerbil in the microwave to 'see what happened'. In my 10 year old brain I was just thinking it would be funny to watch it run round on the little turntable. The radiation and actual damage it would do to the gerbil didn't occur to me.

Anyway this suddenly dawned on me and I grabbed it out of the microwave shaken but apparantly unharmed. A few weeks later it got these huge boils on it's body and had to be put down by the vet.

You can't imagine how bad I feel about this.
( aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 10:48, Reply)

Despite the name
I have yet to do that degree of harm to a cat (or my cat), and it instead refers to what happens every time my curiosity gets the best of me. It's to the same affect of Christmas bells and angels' wings. Or wanking and kittens.

My bit of accidental cruelty was deciding to take my boy home from the shelter. He's a tuxedo, very dignified, and very sweet. Except I am more than happy to exploit him for my own amusement. Time spent studying for finals was instead used chasing him around the apartment when his midnight crazies were especially bad. I laughed my arse off as he howled for help when he got his first bath. I frequently grab him under the front legs to make him stand up like Sylvester the Cat. I grab his back legs to play wheelbarrow with him and try to break my long distance records. If he has an embarrassing moment, I am there with the camera. I play with his ears, his tail, pedal his legs, play "stop hitting yourself", and behave like a six year old. He has not properly been referred to by his real name for months and is more often referred to as Kitty, The Cat, Mr. Chubbs, Fat Ass, Fatsy Patsy, HEFTY HEFTY HEFTY wimpy wimpy wimpy, and the now infamous FAN-W (Fat Ass the Nutless Wonder).

Intentional cruelty aside, my one moment of accidental cruelty was letting my fat bitch of a classmate drop him as he was struggling to get out of her grasp after much prodding and pulling at him, and she unceremoniously dumped him to the floor. Kitty landed loudly on his side and I near took her throat out. She doesn't understand what the big deal is and still insists her cat is an asshole. If that's how she handles animals, no wonder her mog hates her. (The one time I accidentally kicked my boy was when I couldn't find him, nudged a blanket on the floor and heard a startled meow.)

Despite the abuse I heap on my pet, he is the best decision I have ever made about anything and I love him like I'd love my child. (Except I probably wouldn't play wheelbarrow with my sprog. We shall see.) Everytime I come home, he is porked out on the bed in a hilarious pose and a chorus of "MIAOW!" and headbutts. He'll run pell-mell after his toy balls and makes out with his catnip pillow with glee. As much fun as it is to grab his love handles and make Three Stooges noises, I love it when it's 2 AM, I need to brush my teeth and go to bed, but he's tucked into the crook of my arm and fast asleep. If he wants attention, he'll flip over to show his belly and curls into a cinammon bun. He chirps and grunts and answers to my noises. He's only yarked when he ran around too much, shit on the rug when he was sick (and once when I wouldn't wake up to pay attention to him), he doesn't claw up the furniture, he'd rather run than bite or claw someone, and he is the biggest ball of sweetness I could ever be blessed with.

Gawbless the pets who will take our abuse, intentional or accidental, and love us anyway. I'm sure a number of posts have been made on this subject, but another one to sing their poor praises is always nice. :) He is currently tucked up at the end of the bed and grunting whenever I poke him.

Here is the delightful lil dumptruck. This is the first of many hilarious moments, especially since I walked in on him like this and stayed like that so I could get my camera.



Click 'I like this' if you want to see when he got into the bras.
(DeadCats, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 8:30, 8 replies)

De-balled..
I had my cat castrated yesterday.

Not accidental, for his own good really..

Poor bugger.

EDIT: This is him: tb.polygonized.com/misc/Aggy_garage.jpg
(zeroSignal, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 8:27, 3 replies)

Bear+Tranquiliser+Trampoline
ok so it's not my story, and its a bit of an old video, but perfect for this weeks question.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pa1pIO4_lUY

enjoy
(tonyharrison, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 8:00, 1 reply)

Oops!
When I was but a wee tot (okay, I was 9) I had a lovely grey hamster I named Pepper.

Now, as we all know those little fuzzy things have salt licks. Well, one day I noticed his salt lick was gone... so I decide to administer his salt dose via his water. after a few days he seemed sicker, and I kept asking my mom to get him a new salt lick, but she wasn't going to the store anytime soon... since he was getting worse, I decided he needed more salt.

The poor thing expired Halloween night.

A year or so later in school we were having a class discussion, and the subject of salty ocean water came up. We asked how people could die of dehydration out in the ocean when it's made of water. The teacher then explained how salt water dehydrates.

It was at that moment I realized I killed Pepper.

...with salt.

Sorry for the length, I was dehydrated.

oh *pop* and all that jazz.
(StupidAmericanTourist, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 6:10, Reply)

kitty flambe
one of my cats, miscellaneous, feels the need to walk across the table inbetween chairs in the living room to go from one chair to the other (lazy git... a short hop will do). one evening i had a lit candle sitting on the table, and miscy decided she wanted to transverse the table and stop to sniff the candle.

in my attempt to keep her from sniffing the candle and singeing her whiskers, i panicked and pushed her off the table. as i did so, she turned at just the right angle, so instead of lighting her face on fire, the tip of her tail went right into the flame and immediately started smoking in preparation to set fire.

luckily it went out as soon as she hit the floor, but the living room smelled of burnt lavender fur for the next five hours. she licked it and made it feel better... but she was more upset with me for making her get down than trying to make char broiled kitty.
( mayonessa, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 3:16, Reply)

I buggered a Swan once
he claimed later that he hadn't enjoyed it..
( Lomticks Be yourself; everyone else is taken., Thu 13 Dec 2007, 2:51, Reply)

Rough

Back when I was about fifteen me and my friend would go to some lakes nearby to chill out and smoke cigarettes. We were sat on a bench just at the shore of one of the lakes smoking. My friend was a heavy smoker and all of a sudden coughed up a HUGE amount of 'lung butter' which he then spat into the lake. Cue hungry swan - which arrived and tucked into the phlegm and spent about five minutes trying to swallow it, probably one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen...
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 0:20, 3 replies)

Torch + Jack Russell = FUN.

Don't know if its bindun, but I'll do it anyway.

One evening a light bulb in our front room blew, which automatically cut out the other lights as well. While waiting for someone to go and flick the switches in the fusebox, I started fucking about with a torch we were using, when I noticed our Jack Russell, Rocky, was watching the spot of light intently.

He soon got up out of his basket and began to follow the light across the carpet as I moved it, and I soon realised that he hadn't got a clue what it was, but was highly interested in following it wherever it went.

Cue me moving the torchlight across the floor as fast as I could, with Rocky flying after it at full speed, right into the settee that he hadn't had time to see before he hit it.

To be honest I think he loves it, he still follows the light round, and if anything the bump to his head knocked a bit of sense into him...
(the cat is pouncing on your face on, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 0:10, 2 replies)

Goose the Mastiff
When I lived in NYC I used to take weekend trips up to Salem, MA. If you havent been or dont know it, its a really cool but creepy place. I used to book a room at a B&B called "Morning Glory" (if you are ever in the Boston area, book it, the two guys that own it, life partners, make THE best danishes and coissants I have EVER had!).

So one morning, I take the pup, Goose, down to the waters edge to make the poo. The beach in Salem is covered in small stones that are coin shaped and are perfect for skipping, so while he was doing the business I was skimming stones on the harbor there.

Until Goose came up over the rise of the beach and saw what I was doing. I had been working with him on 'fetch' and he was an avid student. Well, he sees me throw the stone and goes after it.

Now, Goose didnt know the water wasnt a solid and charged headlong. Goose had a REALLY large head as a pup and when he ran, his nose was mere inches off the ground...a small wave clipped him on the nose and caused him literally to flip and land/sink into the 6 or 8" deep water.

When he emerged from the water, he would not look me in the eye. He had the saddest face I have ever seen on a dog and he was soaked.

Now THAT wouldnt have been cruelty...that would have been just unfortunate timing. When I attempted to skip another stone with him looking on? Impossible to resist the urge or Pavlovian reflex to charge after it? NOw THAT was cruel!

I have since made it up to him many times over, but he STILL will not get NEAR the water!

Cheers,
Citadel
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 21:48, Reply)

smelly cat (old)
sometimes when I fart my cats sniffs it!
(you dont know me, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 20:36, 1 reply)

probly already done but...
my last gf was a bit of a dog and i frequently took the piss out of her(i would call that cruel). :D x


sorry if u hate me, not my problem. x
(kristofski6992, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 19:59, 8 replies)

...and another one with the dog.....
...when I was living with me parents me dad had a rotweiler cross called Ben who resembled a Ridgeback (built like a brick shithouse too, he used to take my dad for walks). Our house had a large side-garden with hedges all around and a tall white fence at the front and this was Ben's stomping ground.

One afternoon, me and me dad are gardening and one of our neighbours called Derek called around, standing by the fence. Derek's a nice enough mid-fifties bloke; normally spends his days doing decorating contracts with the council and the local prison. So Derek calls me dad over to the fence and they are both talking away. Ben comes over for a nose and stands on his hind legs so he is literally face-to-face level with Derek. Derek makes a fuss over Ben and Ben's wagging his tail as normal. After a few seconds me dad turned around to say something to me and Ben saw his moment. He spins his head around and bites Derek on his hand. I spot this, and I also spot Derek double-take and pull his hand back in shock. Derek's reply however was awesome.

"You sneaky little bastard." SMACK.

One hell of a slap across Ben's face sent him stumbling back from the fence and semi-dazed until Ben eventually shook it off. After that he was best of friends with Derek and never went for him again.

That was the only time I've ever seen one of our dogs bite anyone; sometimes a good slap is always better than a small talking down.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 19:14, 2 replies)

life on the farm
A friend of ours left us his two shire-horses to look after when he lost the use of the field he had for them ( he has a carriage and does weddings and stuff with them)
We put them into the main field where we have 6 other horses and all was well.
One morning 2 days later only 1 shire horse is visible. After a quick tour of te field (wooded in places and steeply sloping in other places) I found it. She had drowned.
There is a wee watersource in the middle of the field which is a muddy hole surrounded by trees where the water bubbles up to the surface. The horses drink there without problem. Turns out that the mud is SIGNIFICANTLY deeper than we thought - deep enough to drown a shire-horse that may have the misfortune to stand in it.
She was pregnant too.
Absolutely gutted.

We also breed rabbits for meat. Rabbits are generally limited in noises to gently snuffling and occasionally some grunting when humping, but they do sometimes let out the most God-awfull, blood-curdling screams when frightened. Picking them up to dispatch them sometimes prompts shrieking that would wake the dead.
(dave likes cheese, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 18:11, 1 reply)

Crack addict bunny
On my final year at Uni, as a birthday present from my housemates I was given a little bunny which I called “Dave”.

I always loved animals and had rabbits before, unfortunately being at University and absolutely skint it was quite tricky for me to feed the little thing as I had to spend a lot of money on wood chippings and other necessary vitamins.

The solution was simple, Dave would have to eat what I ate. This is how Dave became a well fed rabbit, eating pasta, rice and even trying out crackers with rabbit liver paté sent from France by my caring mother (which technically made him a cannibal).

Everything went well, he slept in a cage in my room, and we were a happy couple.
Until one day a local supermarket had some Cookie crisps cereal on special, ideal for students as you can have them at any time really. So I bought quite a few boxes and went home.

Next morning Dave was treated to a few Cookie crisps and he loved them.
Next morning same thing, he ate them all in no time and would scratch his cage when he smelled them. It wasn’t until he started being really active day and night that I suspected something was wrong with him, but some bunny expert on an online bunny forum told me that it was most likely because the little thing was dying out for some action, I was asked to check his testicules and indeed they were quite big and fully out (apparently a sign that he was ready for it), so fair enough I left it to that.


After a few weeks of being fed cereals, one morning when I was late for work (good timing) Dave attacked me when I opened his cage to feed him. I threw him back in the cage tapping him slightly on the nose to tell him to stop, he (instead of calming down) jumped at my face again so I put him back in gave him his treats and magically he calmed down. At that point something clicked in my head and I was wondering if maybe the sugar in the cereals had something to do with it.

After some advices from a vet, I was told to gradually cut down on the stuff and replace it with apples as Rabbit have a very very sweet tooth but could be killed pretty much instantly by eating chocolate (thankfuly this only applies to dark chocolate). Unfortunately he was having none of it, he did eat apples eventually, after weeks and weeks of going cold turkey; but never came back to the Dave I knew before.

He was always way too hyper for me to handle him, would rarely sleep and eventually died of a heart attack one sad evening.

I blame it on the paté.
(Omikron404, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 17:38, Reply)

probably unpopular
I dislike dogs so much that I sometimes fantasise about carrying a gun and shooting them dead whenever I see them. If they barked at me, I'd shoot their owners as well. They stink, they're noisy, they shit all over the place and they're stupid.

By stupid, I mean they've had almost all of their natural instincts bred out of them. If you don't feed a cat, it'll go out and eat a pigeon. If you don't feed at dog, it'll look at you soppily until it dies. I've got no respect for that.

Just the other day I was sitting on a park bench when a labrador raced towards me, jumped all over my lap (covering me in mud) and then ran off. It's owner merely laughed gaily and said "Oh, he's excited today!" That's fine then. That makes it OK. How about I follow her home and shit on her laundry because I'm fucking excited. Fucking stupid bitch.

Sorry, it's been a long day.
(frankspencer, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 17:22, 13 replies)

duck death
We used to keep ducks growing up. Occasionally we'd get baby chicks, very cute, but with mental deathwishes.

They:

Drowned. (you're a DUCK, how the hell did you drown)
Froze.
Decided to learn to fly for the first time during a force 10 gale. (Takes off, goes backwards at high speed into a wall and breaks it neck)
Eaten by seagulls.
Eaten by foxes.
Got run over.
Eaten by the cat.
Accidentally killed by the dog when he'd get confused between a duckling and a tennis ball and pick them up - usally with no harm but occasionally he'd over do it.
Fall off something.
Get stuck in something.
Choke on something.
Or just die for no apparent reason at all.

Ducks are delicate.
(inflateable, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 17:19, 3 replies)

Benji the Knobhead Dog.
Many years ago, we were playing out in the street, and one of our neighbours had a dog called Benji.

It was a fucking horrible little thing, the canine equivalent of a bin dipping smack head from a City or Town Centre.

We were having a summer street picnic (1984) I think it was and Benji come out and was sniffing round our grub. Danny my mate was toying with the dog with a peanut butter sandwich to which the dog turned its nose up and turned round.

Then came the opportunity......

Benji was renowned for going fucking radio rental if you touched his tail. So Danny in his perm headed wisdom put the dogs tail between 2 pieces of bread that he had that had the Peanut Butter on, for a split second he did that "Im gonna fucking eat this dog on this sandwich camera pose"

The Dog went fucking spaz. It was chasing its tail so much and for so long it was getting dizzy, it had to sit down and then it would start again, all the while moving away from us.

Till it spiraled into Dannys garden where his Dad had removed the grid to unblock the house drain.

Woof-Spin-Woof-Spin

yelp

woof

yelp

Fucking pmsl to the moon and back on a space hopper. I couldnt breath, I laughed that hard.

Anyway Dannys dad got it out and returned it to the neighbours.

Me? - I went in, Watched Bullseye, Last of the Summer Wine, Thats Life and Went to Bed.

Happy Days.
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 17:01, 4 replies)

I Once....
Gave my cat a bowl of milk. He drank the whole thing in the space of a few seconds. So occasionally I'd give him a wee bowl of milk. One night a few weeks ago, I took the milk out of the fridge and was greeted by a mewing and a "can i have some?" look. So the cat gets some milk.

About 20 minutes later, he hops up on the sofa, makes the most godaweful noise I've ever heard and starts kecking. Cue me shoving in the kitchen where he blows milky, catfoody chunks all over the floor and the doormat.

Lovely.

Turns out I've been slowly poisoning the cat with milk.

Oops.

((He's fine now though. And asleep on my ankles.))
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 16:53, 6 replies)

Vaguely connected
a discussion we used to have at university: would you have unprotected sex with a cow live in front of a TV audience for a billion pounds? I always said yes, but my economist friend declined. Would anyone else have carnal knowledge with a cow/bull for a billion?
(frankspencer, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 16:37, 24 replies)