When I was a young 'un
we were very poor and lived on a shitty council estate in shitty Hull. The street we lived on was a 14 house cul-de-sac, and the neighbors across the street were affectionately known as "gippos". They had 6 dogs who used to hang around their front garden and terrorize the neighborhood kids.

One night, my brother and I were 10 and were coming home from a school disco (shout out to Shakespeare Junior High!). We turned the corner to our grove and the dogs were there snarling and growling.
Somehow, my brother managed to escape, but the pack came after me. I managed to climb up into an 8ft high hedge (god knows how, sheer terror I think) until my mum came out. All the neighborhood dads came out and beat the pack back. One of the guys rescued me from the hedge and ran with me to my house with the dogs chasing after us.
Needless to say, I don't like dogs. Fortunately, I wasn't injured.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 17:14, Reply)

a game of chicken
I was about ten, visiting a friend of my mother's on a farm, and was told to play outside. Oh, and don't go in the chicken cage, that rooster gets annoyed.

Oh, really? A chicken is going to keep me out? I sauntered over to the cage and gave it a once-over. Only a little hen was in sight, though I couldn't see inside the coop. Maybe he's asleep? Should be safe enough.

I opened the gate, ducked and entered. The hen tried to escape, but I closed the gate in time. I stuck my head in the coop, but it was too dark to see anything. I turned to leave, but heard a rustling from the coop, and this enormous rooster squeezed his bulk through the doorway.

He was enormous: the Ahnold of roosters. Had I been older I've have felt a bit sorry for any hen he mounted, but at the time I remember wondering: how will they get him in the oven? I'd seen smaller turkeys. Maybe it was partly feathers, because he did not look happy to see me.

I backed away towards the gate, and he kept coming. When I reached for the gate, he leapt up in a whirlwind of feathers, and dug a spur claw in to my upper arm, before jumping off on to the top of the coop. Blood everywhere. Good thing I'd had a Tetanus shot not long before.

OK: point taken, Mister Rooster. I still have the scar, from the time I got pwned by a chicken.
( bnt what, me worry?, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 17:07, Reply)

Not An Attack
.
It just sounds like one.

There I was, a few weeks off the plane here in Melbourne, enjoying a quiet fag when:

CRASH!!!!

Something had hit the tree next door. I didn't know what it was but it was big. Then:

CRASH!! CRASH!! CRASH!!

More of the fuckers. I could hear whatever they were crawling around the upper branches of the tree but I couldn't see them.

Then something shaped like a stealth bomber, but with legs, glided over my head and:

CRASH!!

Turns out they're bats. Or, rather, flying foxes.

This is what they look like:



They don't, as such, land on a tree - it's more like they've been shot down.

Cheers.

P.S On another note, seeing that I'm a member of the B3ta over 40 club, does anyone know who the oldest B3tan regular is? There was one guy in his sixties, a few years back, but I think he's dead....
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 17:05, 6 replies)

My dad had a cat when he was a nipper
He called it 'Horse'

I don't know if it attacked anything of note, but it's a pretty good name for a cat.
( Weetobix, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 17:00, Reply)

Pow!
A the parents of a Uni friend of mine owned a big and very stupid greyhound, and being a greyhound it liked to run around lots.

One evening they took it out for a walk, but seeing it was getting dark early they attached a flashing bike LED light to it's collar to see where it was.

The walk was coming to an end, so the looked out for the flashing light, saw it at the other end of the field and called the dog over.
It ran. Fast.

You know that scene in Alien where the bloke is in the air ducts and the Alien is in there with him, but all you can see is the flashing light on the screen as it got closer and closer? That's pretty much what happened.

This flashing red light got rapidly closer, but before anyone could quite work out if this was going to be a problem, *BAM*. It ran head first, smack into my mate's grandmother and broke her hip!
( Weetobix, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:56, Reply)

A premeditated attack
Once when I was a nipper we went to a game farm in Northern South Africa to see some lions being fed. The way it worked was that these lions lived in a large enclosed area and every day they would be fed in the same area and tourists like us would come and watch them rip apart a dead animal.
Not really an attack in the strictest sense, but word on the veld was that a few years previous one of the rangers was helping to unload the boar carcass out the pick-up and a lioness ran out the bush and attacked him and munched him in front of car loads of tourists.Only his shoe was left apparently.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:45, Reply)

Eye'd like to see that
My previous cat, when she was a kitten, liked to sleep on my shoulder as I sat on the couch. One day either I moved unexpectedly or she started to slide off so she decided that hooking a claw under my eyelid would remedy the situation.

Having a kitten dangle from your eye isn't the most amusing thing in the world I can tell you - although one's housemates may have seen it differently.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:37, Reply)

Squirrel
I stood in Museum Gardens in York wearing a pair of brown cords and a green shirt.
A squirrel ran up my legs, perched on my hips, looked me in the eye, realised his mistake, and jumped off.
(kidcamel is due to call your mum at, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:13, 1 reply)

Pond-Skater Attack
Yes, those things you see zooming about on the surface of the water.
Well, there are two kinds, Pond-skaters, and Water-boatmen. This story is about the latter.

When I was at uni I did a research project that involved collecting water beetles from ponds all over the south of England, taking them back to the lab, cutting their reproductive organs out, and taking photos.
I'm the Jack the Ripper of the insect world.
Anyway, we had to swish a net through the water to get these beetles, and sift through the catch to find the right beetles.

All ok until you find one of these: www.dkimages.com/discover/previews/934/80019831.JPG

They don't look much, but they bite you, inject a poison that breaks down proteins (which you're made of), causing horrific swelling and pain.

I was bitten on the leg by one, and I still have a hard lump there, a few years after.
( Cawl, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:12, 50 replies)

My Grannys enormous thoroughbred blue great dane...
stands about 7-8 feet tall on its hindlegs with its brandished gleaming trouser lipstick about the height of the back of an average mans neck when he sneaks up behind you and 'attacks', by which I mean 'rapes'. Never women, just men. I dont visit my Granny anymore. She could die of old age and I wont be there because of that vicious raping giant gay dog and I feel sad. I quite enjoy my Granny's company.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:05, 7 replies)

Zappa the cat...
...belongs to a mate of mine, named after the infamous Frank (father of Dweezil and Moon Unit).

He is a fucking savage.

He once jumped from the top of the wardrobe onto my mate's head, thus giving him a Klingon-esque scarred forehead for about a week.

And on another occasion, he waited till my mate was in bed, then took a swipe with a paw (claws out)at his knob. I chose not to inspect the damage on that one...
(tree hugger putting the "semen" in "basement"..., Fri 25 Apr 2008, 16:05, 1 reply)

The love that dare not speak it's name
My mate D spent some of his gap year working in a wild animal sanctuary in Malaysia.

One day he was happily cleaning the area next to the orangutan enclosure when suddenly a huge hairy orange hand reached through the bars of the enclosure and grabbed him round the back of head.

D froze, having been told the best thing to do if grabbed by one of the animals was not to struggle as most would then think you were dead and drop you.. However this didn't seem to have much of an effect as the orangutan then slowly but surely began to pull him towards the cage. D twisted his head round to come face-to-face with Omar, the biggest and most bad-ass of all the male orangutans in the sanctuary.

Now in fear of his life, either from being crushed against the cage or by simply being ripped apart, D then noticed something worse.

Omar was only holding him with one hand because he was furiously wanking himself silly with the other.

With the new threat of being horrifically raped, or at least getting a load of monkeyspunk in his hair D redoubled his efforts and managed to break free.

Apparently Omar just sat there and carried on but did have a rather disappointed look on his face.

D steered clear of the orangutan enclosure for the next few weeks.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 15:32, 2 replies)

not really an attack, but
My friend has a parakeet with incontinance,

so when he flies around the house, its kind of like the london blitz,

erm, yuck
(battalion PooFighters, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 15:22, Reply)

Potuguese Arse Biting
When I was around 10, we went on a family holiday to Portugal. We were staying in a fairly small family-run hotel, somewhere on the coast. The owners had a big rottweiler that lived outside, round the side of the building. I've always been a sucker for dogs and quickly made friends with it, popping round there to say hello and give it a stroke. It seemed very friendly at the time. That was all part of its plan though, befriending me, whilst secretly planning to eat me.

On one of the last days of the holiday, I went round to see "El Rover" and as I was walking towards him he lept up with a growl and charged towards me. This thing was huge and very scary looking so I span around and ran for my life. The dog actually had a large chain, attaching him to a wall (which in hindsight should have told me something) but unfortunately just inches before the chain yanked him back, he managed to take a chunk out of my arse. It hurt like hell.

That wasn't the worst of it though. Hearing the dog's barks, and no doubt my screams, the owner came rushing out yelling something in Potuguese and promptly pulled down my shorts and pants to take a look at the bite. By this time quite a crowd had gathered to see this blubbering 10 year old with his pants around his ankles while a buxom Portuguese lady examined his arse. Nice!
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 15:18, Reply)

Well, they haven't actually attacked YET but it can only be a matter of time...
I'm being stalked by ladybirds. They're clearly besotted with me as a result of my campaigning for the male ones to be called blokeychaps and have decided that we must be together.

All through the winter there have been ladybirds around. Just one or two, but regularly appearing when I don't expect it. Cooking a meal? There's one on the wall, high above the cooker. Brushing my teeth? There's one near the tap. Getting dressed? Oh look, one on the windowsill. Aren't they supposed to die over winter? These didn't. I even found one in the car once... maybe it's always the same few, I don't know.

Last night I found a dead one in the bathroom, and noticed that the spots on its back made a heart shape. I can only assume that this means things have taken a turn for the sinister, so now I'm watching my back; as soon as they realise that I'm not interested in creating the world's first Kennybird with them I'm doomed.

Remember - when my cold lifeless body is found covered only in a shiny red and black chitinous substance, you read it here first.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 15:15, 7 replies)

My one resounding memory of being a child of the seventies.....
is having dogs roaming our estate and trying to sniff our crotches. Every bloody time we went to the playground they would come for some sniffing action. Very upsetting for a young girl. Maybe it's why I don't like wearing skirts.
( girlinthehole, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 15:04, 34 replies)

Possible pea
Who cares, it's incredibly apt!

My mate (same on who had my back when the cows approached) has an african grey parrott. It's an evil bastard and hates everyone except him -including his girlfriend.

he bought the thing copying his dad, who also has an african grey, Archie. because his parents have had Archie for some time he apparently has a rather imressive repertoire of vocal ability. He can repeat over a hundred phrases, words and song lines. Hello and Goodbye are allegedly greeted at appropriate times too.

Archie also has violent tendencies toward anyone except my mates dad. His mum can talk to the bird but daren't handle it.

The attack:
His grandma came to visit one day and was talking to Archie in the hallway. She leaned close to the cage and was making kissy-kissy gestures against the bars when Archie struck. Grandma's screams were devoid of effect as Archie didn't release her lip until mates dad came to her rescue.

Parrotts beaks are incredibly powerful. They make short work of brazil nuts and can snip off a finger at a push. I dread to imagine how my friends poor old grandma felt as this pair of avian pincers were latched onto her lower lip. I'm told that the mark took over 2 months to heal, leaving a substantial scar.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:49, Reply)

pearoast
from accidental animal cruelty, but i think it fits in better here:

Hector was our family dog when I was younger, a large ginger and white spaniel of undetermined ancestry. He was supposed to be a Cavalier King Charles spaniel, but blatantly wasn't. Still, he was a 'character', and quite the most repulsive dog to have ever lived. We would often find him eating pools of his own and other dogs vomit, and he would lick snot from us kids when we had a cold. But his most, ahem, 'endearing' feature was the method by which he cleared a room with his farting. Sorry, by room, i mean building, and on occasion, village. His farts were legendary in their vileness. Small animals in surrounding fields would pass out whenever Hector passed wind. It was bad.

One day, when i was around 9 or 10 years old, i was lying on the sofa reading some dismal Enid Blyton tome, with Hector lying next to me. All very lovely. Then he decided to get off the sofa, and stood up, before turning round to jump off. In turning round, he presented me with an unpleasant view of his chocolate starfish, far too close to my face for comfort. 'Ugh, Hector!' I shouted, as i tried to move away. But too slowly.
As i moved, i felt a puff of air coming towards my face. With a slow inevitability, the puff of air, green in hue, rolled through the air, revealing itself to be a Hector fart. I couldn't move fast enough, and as i did move, i breathed in. Yup, I inhaled the fart of my dog.

Well, to say it was nasty would be an enormous understatement. I gagged. I retched. And I ran to the bathroom to vomit copiously. It was as if Satan himself had been specially rotting some dead animals with some sewage, before capturing the essence to blast in my direction. I was SICK. I was able to taste that fart for days to follow, and couldn't eat for a while, as i felt so wretched.

Today, almost 16 years later, I still occasionally gag at the thought of this. I'm sure even now some of my lung cells are gently retching, whilst several tastebuds were annihilated, and will never again fully function.
( ascorbate, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:45, 1 reply)

Free lunch
The question doesn't specify what the animals are attacking - so I'll give you a story about how our cat attacked someone's lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Sunday in the early(ish) 1990's, around about lunchtime. You may remember it. Mum was in the kitchen doing something kitchenworthy when there was a clattering sound at the back door. Something was happening to the catflap.

She put down whatever she was doing to see the rear end of Python, one of the cats we had at the time, struggling to get through the catflap. This was odd: he was not a large cat. Inspection revealed that he was attempting the task backwards.

Cats do not normally go backwards through catflaps. Curious.

He wriggled a little. He was trying to drag something into the house. Something, by the looks of it, large and heavy. Mum grabbed the cat by the midriff and pulled. Python kept hold of whatever he was trying to bring home, but growled. He wasn't letting go.

The only thing to do was to open the back door, into which the flap was built, around the struggling feline to see what the fuss was about.

In his mouth, Python had a joint of beef. (Remember it was Sunday lunchtime.) It was nicely cooked and hot. It was as not far off as big as he was. Clearly, someone had taken it out of the oven, put it on the side to relax, looked away, and... WHOOSH! Gone.

Ah.

What to do?

We got on well with the neighbours on one side, but not so well with those on the other. We didn't really know those whose gardens backed onto ours all that well at all. All the same, Mum is an honourable sort. Starting with the neighbours we liked, she decided to start on a round of door-knocking.

"Um... were you having beef for lunch?"
"No. Why?"
"Oh... er... nothing. Bye!"

On to the neighbours on the other side. Same response. A quick walk around the block, then, to get to those round the back. Same response again.

The cat must have dragged the beef through the neighbours' gardens to get it back home, though. And my parents' back garden is, by suburban standards, reasonably large; the same applies to the neighbours' gardens. This means that he had managed probably about 30m at the shortest - and, likely as not, more - with a large, hot, beef joint in his maw.

Mum didn't ask at any of the other houses in the area. To this day, it's a mystery whose lunch Python attacked.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:40, 14 replies)

lambing season versus collie army
was walking across a moor full of sheep the other day with my 3 border collies, all on leads, when a tiny wee lamb decided to charge us repeatedly, baaaing its little heart out. cue myself trying to keep my three wolfs from eating the sheep whilst also trying to persuade the lamb to fuck right off. it ended with the dogs completely terrified and a gloating lamb smirking at us from afar.lambs is evil.
(monicalaroux Blackrod? Centre of the known universe. FACT,, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:39, Reply)

Wolves did it!
the End.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:39, Reply)

did anyone see mythbusters recently?
it turns out elephants are really scared of Mice.

who wouldve thunk it?
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:37, 5 replies)

Someone else's dog
I'd gone up to a local wood one early Autumn to pick some hazelnuts. I hadn't got very far up the hill when a collie-dog trotted out of a farm and began to follow me. It was a friendly dog so I patted it and let it walk with me a little further.
Walk it did, until we came to a field of sheep, where it ran right into the middle of the flock and started chasing and gnashing the poor woolly idiots. I tried calling it off, since I'm not in favour of sheep-worrying, but it wouldn't come away. An old couple walked past as I was calling to it as I kept trying to get the dog to come out of the field.
A few minutes later, who should arrive but the *police*, a pretty rare occurence in places with a population of less than 5. The old couple had reported to the passing police car that me and *my* dog were worrying some sheep.
After some stern questioning (It was hard to prove I'd done any hazelnutting since my bag was empty) the police decided that I was innocent after all. They couldn't get the dog out of the field either so we left it. They still decided to drive me back to my house, though, evidently I was still suspicious.
As we went back, I started to worry about my family seeing me turn up in the back of a police car. I needn't have worried, since at the same time *another* flock of sheep had gotten loose and my family were busy rounding them up into a spare field. We drove right past but fortunately neither of my folks saw me slinking out the back of the car - or at least none of them mentioned it
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:37, Reply)

i used to work on a farm
Firstly there was daisy, a cow and when i gave her an apple she would lick my face!! cow spit ive like the goo you get on kids tv shows, its awesome stuff.

There there was a donkey... everytime i tried to climb over the gate of the paddock he tried to rape me. never succeeded thankfully.

The shire horse who got spooked by a child and did a runner with me holding on, gods that was frightening.

The parrot fish wo used to bite men and men only. Women who put hands in her tank were fine but one guy needed stitches after he tried.

i have hundreds ill post when i have another few mins

Incidently length? well he was hung like a... Donkey!!
(Serbitar Has a furry shit canon called Whitey., Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)

Two stories for you.
1)all through my youth we used to have dogs. Most of the time we would have a big dog and a small one. Once I recall the small one (maltese poodle) took a dump and turned around and started to eat his own shit. Anyways I digress as that's not the real point of this story. Firstly the big dog used to have this insane desire to chase cars and try and bite their tyres. If you so much as left the door open a crack he'd bolt outside and lay in wait for a passing car. One day after a fruitless afternoon chasing cars (this time we think he escaped through the fence) he decided that the incessant barking of the dog over the road needed some sort of revenge. He trotted over the fence and they barked at eachother through the fence while jumping up occasionally and trying to maul eachothers faces. Unfortunately the other dog managed to bite my dogs neck and the force of gravity pulled them both down. It ripped open his neck and he came running home. Not the nicest thing to see when you're 10yrs old.

2) Once our maltese (another one - it was a law in our family that there should be one under our ownership at all times) charged out the front door and being absolutely fearless decided to take on the huge alsation in the park. Our dog was mercilessly thrown about like a rag doll and came off bleeding and considerably worse for wear. My mum swears to this day that it was her and not the vet who 'healed' the dog. I wasn't there, but my sister said mom closed her eyes and put her hand on the bleeding dog and according to her then said 'don't worry I've healed him'. Makes me wonder why mum couldn't do the same when I had measles, chickenpox, lice or aids.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:29, Reply)

Cows are evil.
Oh yeah. I never believed it until it happened to me..

They happily shared the field with m'girlie and I as we gave our new kite its maiden outing.. But very gradually, over a couple of hours, they came round in a pincer movement to be behind us - And just as we put the kite away, they charged! It was surreal.
Fortunately (and dont ask why) I had a smoke stick grenade thing which i set off and waved about as we ran away, it actually bought us a few 'confusion seconds'.. I made sure m'girlie was ahead of me (so i'd die first if it came to it - as there is much shame in coming home alive without your partner :o ) and we only just made it over the gate before they got to us, snorting, bucking and pissy.

I have no doubt in my mind that if they'd caught us, we'd have been trampled to death and tossed like ragdolls by the bastards.

Now I think they should all die.
(Phlash, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:28, 2 replies)

Jack n Jill
The two 'celebrity' monkeys at our local zoo (Banham Zoo), famous for throwing their own poo at spectators. Ah, the scamps, how cute.

I remember one 'teddy bear's picnic' held at the zoo that we all went to with school. And sitting on the coach back crying my eyes out cos my best bear had been walloped with monkey kak.

Monkeys are horrible. I still dispute that they're our ancestors.
(Bertie Wooster dont see nuffink rong wiv payin for a bit o ruff, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:26, 4 replies)

my next door neighbours dog
RIP.

called Jake, an german shephard cross.

He always would go mental when the postman walked up to the front door, as most dogs do.

Then one day, the postman approached the door - no noise, where was the dog he thought?

As the postman turned around there was a large crash. glass and wood flying everywhere... Jake had ran through the house, down the hall, skidded and ran straight through the front door, and was now standing between the postmans legs, looking somewhat bemused. Jake did nothing but turned around and walked back through the hole in the door lookiing a little sorry for homself. It seems now he had the postamn he didnt kknow what to do with him.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:19, Reply)

Speaking of deer...
Again with the child-in-the-woods thing...

The area I grew up in is a game refuge, so there's no hunting allowed due to the population. As a result the deer are often extremely tame- to the point where they'll approach you, rather than the other way around. For example, on one trip home with my kids my wife commented that she hadn't seen any deer yet, so I obligingly slowed the car to a crawl like the tourists do. Immediately two deer emerged from the woods, and one stuck her head in the window right in front of my face so my wife could feed it an oatmeal cookie.

The thing is, they can get downright aggressive. Last summer we were sitting on the deck by the house when a deer came wandering through, nose twitching, and approached us. I found it amusing as she stepped onto the wooden deck and started heading for me, but I found it to be a bit less amusing when she tried to stick her nose into the glass of scotch I was holding.

I'll feed a deer crackers, apples, or just about anything else- but my scotch is off limits.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 25 Apr 2008, 14:06, 6 replies)