This one was accidental, honest
Back in my teens we were the proud(ish) owners of an abso-frigging-lutely huge BFO tomcat - he had had his spuds lopped but quite late, so he was built like a bulldog but was reasonably chilled out.

Bear in mind this cat had taken been hit by cars twice (we lived on a main road and he used to go and sit on the white line to watch the pretty traffic as a hobby), had acid gunk dropped on him when he broke into a building site, fought, killed and eaten almost every species of mammal resident in the UK and even fought a deathmatch with me over custody of the pet rabbit.... this was a take-no-prisoners blokey cat. With absolutely no sense of humour whatsoever. The vet wouldn't examine his teeth without a general anaesthetic, this was how hard this cat was in his prime. Think Greebo but in black.

Did I mention the lack of sense of humour? Good.

Now at the time we also had a tank of goldfish of various wierd shapes and colours. All the bits, nice rocks, plants etc to keep their tiny fishy brains amused. Said tank being placed on a deep windowsill - looked luvverly. Now you would think that this is going to lead to a tale of fish slaughter, but no.

Monster mog had discovered that the strip light in the lid of the tank made a pleasant warm spot where he could lurk at his ease, looking out of the window in case a deer wandered past that he could savage (about the only one he never got). The lid did buckle a bit under his impressive musclely bulk, but hey ho. Truce between cat/fishies.

Now the only way for him to get to his perch was to jump onto the seat, then the back of a big armchair just below, and then launch himself with the grace and charm of a gutshot warthog onto the tank. Once the fish had stopped vibrating, all would be calm except for occasional burping and/or purring.

So, if for example you are cleaning said tank and have wandered off to have a fag break or summat, leaving the lid off and the chair pushed back a couple of feet for access and wander back to find said puddy spread-eagled across the tank (fair play to him, he had managed to get 3 paws and one chin onto the edges) like a hairy starfish... do you (a) rescue your beloved obese pal with no delay or (b) laugh hysterically for some time and allegedly prod him up the bum to see if he'll fall in properly.

Don't think he ever forgave me. Sorry Tinker.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 13:05, 2 replies)

That gets my click
For being the funniest thing I've read on B3ta today (and I've done little else all day)
( snee held his breath since, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 15:21, closed)

My sister had a cat called Tinker
Good Name.

Funny images come to mind also!)


(Kip, Wed 12 Dec 2007, 12:58, closed)