just what do you think you are doing here???
i once had two lovely kitties....both were rowdy and inquisitive boys.

on a lovely saturday afternoon, while having some fun in the bedroom, and just as we had gotten to the good part, Mr (at the time) Badger suddenly jumpped out of bed and screamed. i asked what was wrong and why he stopped the lovely bit.......

......apparently a cold, wet kitty nose in the bum isn't a turn-on.



length? it was just a little kitty.....
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Mon 11 Jun 2007, 3:51, Reply)

We was kids....
....and we always did the things kids did. No, that's not giving an excuse for what we did to our cat , cos I hate the beggars nowadays....

We had a black tom who was more of an outside cat than inside. Maybe that's why I liked him. He was cool - he never wanted to curl up on your lap, lie front of a nice warm fire, or wrap himself around your legs mewing incessantly demaning food. HE was no pussy - he was just rough and ready and there are so many times I recall him catching grasshoppers for food, eschewing the ready caught and skinned food (ie bought and opened tin of Whiskers). Come to think of it, I believe we didn't even gave him a name - it just seemed wrong to name an animal of the wild.

He would come for a vist for a few days and play with us kid like any normal cat - balls of wool, fake mice (hmm.. real mice too. HE brought them) tape on his paws, cut whiskers and all (OK, the last two are not fully true) and all then run off not to bee seen for a day or so.

One day he was home and inside but all he wanted was to be was outside, so he'd jump up on the armchair and out an opened window.

The first time we carried him back inside and took him into the kitchen he simply ran back into the adjoining lounge room, then up and out of the window.

The second time, we carried him down to the back bedroom. He then ran down the passage and up, out of the window. He ran quicker on each subsequent time we carried him back inside and down the hallway.

By around the eigth or ninth sortie...... We closed the window.

And do you know, it looked EXACTLY like those stuffed Garfield toys that you see (or at least USED to)stuck to car rear windows..!



No "length punnage" here.... even though my cat was no pussy.
(Sir Jester, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 3:00, Reply)

Cherry
My girlfriends cat is very cute




Cherry Blog
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 2:25, Reply)

munch


click for free hotwater bottle
(And, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 2:13, Reply)

It's a length joke. I'm sorry.


Length? 48 inches, nose to tail.

If you're ever considering buying a cat - get a Maine Coon.
(DjArcas, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 1:36, Reply)

My former boss,
known as The Whelk, had a rather unusual bulldog. Not only did he frequently lean back and masturbate whilst looking you unnervingly in the eye despite having been neutered, but was also rather large, some ten stone, having once been owned by and confiscated from a bodybuilder who had fed him steroids.

The Whelk ran a pub, and I worked in it as well as my brother and one of his mates, Wooden Boy. As anyone who has worked in the licensed trade probably knows, after-work parties in the dark are not unheard of, and it was at these gatherings that Wooden Boy would demonstrate his great skill, his party piece, namely throwing his weedy nine-stone frame onto the floor in a convincing manner, and lying perfectly still, and thus resembling a marionette with its strings cut.

One night, Wooden Boy had overdone it. He fell down for the third or fourth time, and we weren't impressed. We, seriously, tutted.

Wooden Boy lay still, his eyes screwed up shut tight. Our voices expressing our heartfelt desire that he should get the hell up.

A scuffling noise, getting nearer. The dog walking in his general direction. A wet nose snuffled around his neck. Ha ha, someone, at least was convinced.

THUD!

The dog's forepaws arrived on either side of his head as it straddled him, two legs on either side. He fidgetted a little. The dog was bigger than him. He couldn't move.

The dog began panting. Something hard began to push on the seat of his trousers. Like touching cloth backwards. Thud, thud, thud thud....

Oh God.

He opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with a lust-crazed bulldog, salvating, thrusting, only a membrane of fabric keeping his bum virginity safe from the hole hungry beast.

"OH MY GOD GUYS, THE DOG'S TRYING TO F*CK ME!"

At this point he realised we were all watching. And laughing. Like drains. At him. Being boned by a hound.

Did we get the dog off? Nah, he got down himself, after he'd cum.

And the moral of this story is that you should always look to see if a dog's got b*ll*cks before deliberately falling on the floor before a bunch of gits.
( cs1ca, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 0:59, Reply)

My cat...
... has just been watching the Dance of the Hours bit in Fantasia with very thoughtful consideration. I think he fancies his chances with that ballerina hippo.
(littlesunshine licked your blinky diodes on, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 0:20, Reply)

Toby
Long ago I inherited a tortoise, it is about 80 years old, blind in one eye and very crap. All it does is wonder around the garden eating stuff during the summer, and then lives in a box during the winter. Bloody stupid walking rock is what it is.

*Rant over , please carry on with the cute fluffy cats
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 0:19, Reply)

kim
our dog was never allowed on the couch when i was young, so i taught her to nuzzle her head into your chest if you asked her to get down. it was very cute
(mercemployee, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 23:54, Reply)

and speaking of sarah
we were on holiday in corfu when we were about 18. sarah was on the phone to her mum... asking about her brother... the dog susan... the bird joey... the fish liam and noel...

she came back, and said to us: "ooh you'll never guess, the funniest thing happened at home. mum came downstairs in the morning and liam had gone smaller and changed colour in the night!"

there was a pause. then i was the only one cruel and honest enough to say: "so - liam died and your mum bought you a new one then?"

"no! it just shrunk - and - changed... i'm going to call her back."

turned out the cat was going fishing and kept flicking them out of the tank with its paws. sarah's mum found out when she slipped on the corpses of liam 12 and noel 27 and found the cat perched angrily over the bowl, miaowing because there were no more fish.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 23:45, Reply)

sam the canary killer strikes again
my friend sam, the same girl who broke the canary's neck when we were on work experience (as told in "lies i told on my cv"), was once asked to look after our friend sarah's rabbit when they were about 8.

after a few days, sam felt sorry for the poor rabbit, always in a hutch. so she got her dog's lead and took the rabbit for a walk around the garden. the rabbit didn't much like the walk, so a more accurate description would be "dragged the rabbit around on its arse on the end of the lead for a bit".

then she decided to take it down the slide on her knee. so she clambered carefully up the ladder, the rabbit clutched tightly in her sweaty little hands. she sat herself on the top of the slide, nestling the rabbit in her lap.

unfortunately, she had dropped the lead when picking the rabbit up with both hands. so as she set off down the slide, the end of the lead flew out behind them. and caught over the top of the steps.

the next thing she knew, the rabbit had been jerked out of her lap, where it described a perfect parabola and then hung limply down by the slide, strangled.

apparently it took them the whole of the weekend to find an identical rabbit to pass off on sarah's return. it certainly took another 20 years for her to get brave and drunk enough to confess it to sarah.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 23:39, Reply)

Pigeon's legs
I discovered a few days ago that my cat had finally caught a big fat Dudley pigeon.

Now my cat is a fiesty little minx, she has bought me a whole number of different "presents" in the past, ranging from frogs, toads and other such slimy things to rats and half eaten mice, to birds (mostly small ones as she's only little herself).

But the pigeon was quite a feat. She'd always eyed them up from the view of the windowsill, just itching to get one.

So anyway, I wake up to let her in one morning and spot feathers on the patio. She comes in mew mewing as if to say "I've bought you a present, I'm so kind!" Great, I think. So as it is a regular occurance I take the quietist approach and think, ahh nice, she's got something - I'll leave it for dad to clean up.

Out of curiosity and sheer bloodlust, I decide to pop out and have a look at the previous evenings spoils. So I walk outside only to discover the bloody fat thing's still flopping and flapping about on the ground. There's a fair few feathers scattered around the patio, and blood to go with it.

On closer inspection, it seems that the pigeon... has no legs. Just a fat, legless pigeon desperately trying to escape from my patio. The little bugger had only gone and caught it, chewed its legs off to make sure it couldn't get away, and then just left the poor bastard pij to die slowly and painfully.

It was still flapping around when I went back to bed. I left it for my dad to sort out. Kittie (my cat) just sat there licking her lips, seemingly tasting the victory. Cruel pussycat.
(Hanargh, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 22:41, Reply)

horny porno dog
i lent my best mate Mark a porno film once.Come evening time,he set the mood to watch it;closed the curtains,poured himself a drink,tissues ready and away he went.As usual,his trusty Staffordshire Bull Terrier,Marvin,was at his feet.
Well.after an hour or so of frantic fwappage,Mark decided to go to the kitchen to make himself something to eat,Marvin following him.As Mark was preparing his supper,Marvin did no more than mount Marks' leg and furiously start shagging away,something he'd never even done with another dog before....Had he been watching the porn which had put ideas in his head?
( strictlyrockers hasnt been on here for ages, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 22:27, Reply)

self clumping litter - a suitable concrete replacement
Picture the scene - Sunday morning trying to have a lie-in bed while from the bathroom can hear trumping squit diarreaoh noises coming from Harry the new kitten's bumhole. Then hear splash as he had jumped up onto and INTO toilet which is next to his tray and then back out again and lands in his shitty tray which is also full of self-clumping litter, which sets like a concrete coat to his wet fur.

This kitty was not having a good day, next up was being held under a tap while me and the hubster literally picked the crap off him
(trumpy use a fan to spread your wind, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 20:56, Reply)

slightly off topic...
Walking through the middle of the (in)famous Bigg Market in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne this morning on my way to work, i stood in silence, holding my hastily removed headphones by my side while i watched a GIANT Seagull kill and begin to eat a flailing pigeon.

Only a geordie seagull could pull off that kind of stunt, looked like something out of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds.
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 20:14, Reply)

Allsorts
My black and white cat, so name due to licorice Allsorts being black and white, well I was only ickle!

Allsorts was one of the 4 kittens in our old cat Mitzys liiter, got rid of her due to being the spawn of satan (loved my Dad though). The other kittens were Whiskers (Also kept him, Allsorts HATED him but he was whimp), katie (had a gammy leg, vet tied a piece of string round it so it just 'dropped off) and smokey, due to her being the most gorgeous smokey grey colour.

I had lots of pets when I was little, but I have the fondest memories of Allsorts. Including his 'mad half hours' which consisted of him running around the house like a lunatic before collapsing in a giant heap and purring like mad. The time we went frantic looking for him and eventually found him purring happily underneath the kitchen units when he had crawled under the loose skirting.

Sadly when my Mum became ill, I had to live with my Aunt cos my dad was working. We used to stop by the house on the way to school (I was 11) and allsort would be left outside, meowing at the glass door to be let in (he was always let out at night and would always be waiting to be let in the next morning). My aunt would never let him in and it broke my heart to see him abandoned so I gave him to the nurse at the Hospice my mum was at, who had lots of other cats.

When I get my own place, Im getting a black and white cat called Allsorts the second.
(purplefairy, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 17:39, Reply)

Whisky
Our rescue cat, is great. She talks as she comes in, talks all the way through when you are watching TV. But her worst habbit is presents.

I've had, among other things in the last 2 years

A pair of leather gloves form next door
2 wedding ring
A old white towel that looked scarily like the one we buried our rabbit in

But the worst is about 2 weeks ago, when I woke up to find a fucking 10 inch rat on my pillow. It was still twitching, covered in blood, and she's sitting there, behind it, proud as punch. I screamed and ran - my biggest fear in the world is being eaten by rats.

I now know she remembers this, and will use it against me the next time I get out the cat carrier for a trip to the vet...
(gjb006, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 17:37, Reply)

speedy and herman the tortoises
I used to have a tortoise when I was younger, and I aquired a new one a few years ago, both of them escape(d) with an alarming frequency. From a run intended to keep a rabbit captive. I always wondered how speedy managed it, but I caught herman at it the other day, he scaled the chicken-wire, then climbed along vertically against it until he could sqqueeze between two layers.
pretty impressive for a tortoise thats so stupid it frequently forgets its eating and wanders around with half a lettuice leaf hanging out of its mouth all day.....
(skankgirl, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 17:16, Reply)

The Height of Bad Manners
We were woken up the other night by our black cat, Chani. She had been sleeping on my girlfriend and at around 4am started to convulse and make strange gagging sounds.

Its funny how some noises will snap you right out of a deep sleep, and we both woke up instantly to see if she was OK. "Turn the f***ing light on", I yelled. But my girlfriend, one hand restraining the cat couldnt find the light.

By the time the light was turned on, our scrawny black oriental moggy had clawed her way across to my side of the bed, heaving and vomiting as she went.

Most cats get hairballs, not Chani though, she eats her own shit. She had left a trail of dark brown shit-vomit across the bed, culminating at my pillow.

*THWACK* off the bed flies the cat. We spent the next 20 minutes scrubbing the mattress, we eventually ended up sleeping in the other room out of sheer disgust.

EDIT : Not sure how to work URLs but here's the little poo-vomiter www.damsar.com/photos/qm2_2006/50.jpg
(borovan, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 17:01, Reply)

Oh - dogs
The pub dog at my local shags anything, cushions, his own bed, the bar stools, yes, it's pretty minty in there, you have to watch where you are sitting.

I don't like dogs, smelly horrible things.
( Tiggy the diver, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 15:32, Reply)

I used to have a cat called Garfeild
Yes, he was a big ginger tom with huge eyes and ate lasagne. When I moved from Portsmouth to the countryside in Hedge End I lost him one day. The place I lived in was a building site, they were just putting up loads of new houses. It was very unusual for him not to be around as he was a pathetic lap cat and loved people petting him. I was seriously worried after about 10 days and thougth he'd run away. Thing is I went round all the neighbouring roads calling "Garfield, Garfield" like a stupid idiot. Anyway I got a call at work after 2 weeks from the builders to say that they could hear some faint mewoing below a driveway they'd put in previously, so I told them to dig it up, and lo and behold, out came the blasted cat. It was very wobbly and thin but obviously very pleased to see me, so I scooped him up and nursed him like a baby for a few days to get his strength back.

He died 5 years ago and I cried for days.

Sad story :-(
( Tiggy the diver, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 15:30, Reply)

Dogs first Christmas
The day before my dogs first Christmas, she decided to take a little wander downstairs and into the kitchen.
She then went onto jump on top of the cooker and drag the whole turkey down onto the floor.
We still have no idea how she did that, seeing as how at the time she was even smaller than our rabbit.
The next morning we came down to find wrapping paper all over the living room, and he sitting in the middle of it eating the chewsticks she'd managed to find wrapped under the tree.
(LooSee, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 14:28, Reply)

when i was a baby
i managed to 'fire' a projectile shit several feet onto my cats head, apparently he didn't look happy
(Just Harry What should I put here?, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 14:16, Reply)

Daft things my cat did/does
* Manically running from room to room for no apparent reason.

* Sleeping on beds... in the exact spot behind your knees so you can't move for the rest of the night.

* Pawing for attention until you follow him to his food bowl... at which point he begins eating calmly. WHY?!?!

* Walking on two feet for about four steps. I swear he did this when I was small and no-one seems to believe me.

* Shat on the cooker. On the fucking cooker. Fair enough that he couldn't get outside (catflaps are hard to install in patio doors) but on the fucking COOKER?!

* Demonstrating an amazing sixth sense that tells him when the cat carrier is being moved, at which point he hides in the loft.

Still the best cat in the world; fat-assed, 12 years and still going strong/mad. Apologies for potty mouth and its corresponding length.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Sun 10 Jun 2007, 13:16, Reply)

His name was Satan...
...but don't ask me why. We even chose that name for him, but he wasn't really evil so the real reason? I haven't a clue - I think it was my brother's idea. And yes, we were occasionally required to call out his name but only when absolutely necesarry because, well, it just looked silly. We weren't really a household that took religion seriously, you may realise.

Anyway, Satan was a jet-black, thick-as-fuck greyhound that my mum came home with one day. She used to breed and run dogs with my Dad before I came along, so she knew he had been dumped by a breeder probably because he was shit at running, or more likely past it as he wasn't a young dog even then.

I've posted about Satan before, when he wasn't quite called upon to save my mum from getting mugged. Linky

Like I said, he wasn't even remotely evil enough to earn his namesake, but he was more then a bit dim. Completely impervious to command of any kind, not to mention foresight. If you took him for a walk in the park then the moment you let him off of his lead he would bolt off in a random direction and usually not stop until he hit something. We got into the habit of pointing him at the fence at the back of the park so he wouldn't end up under a car. He always came back though - after about 20mins bounding about and crashing bodily into stuff he'd most often trot back and sit down next to you. Good thing because with him being a greyhound and all chasing him was a very frustrating experience, whether he was a bit crap amongst his peers or not.

I think he had no sense of smell either, purely because of some of the things he consumed - bear in mind here that greyhounds are ALWAYS hungry. We used to make camps out of old doors and such in the back yard in summer, and lit them with candles when it got dark. Satan ate our entire stock of them one day, at least a half-dozen of them. We weren't happy. It was foolish for any grown-up to allow lads our age access to things that make fire, so they were difficult to come by. We knew it was him because there were even teethmarks where he'd been trying to get to the drippings in the brick we were standing the candles in. He'd gotten most of it, too.

What else did he eat? Oh yeah, half of a day's laundry (mostly my mam's smalls as I recall lol) one day when the washing line fell off the pole and low enough for him to reach - our next-door neigbour caught him pulling them off the line and shooed him away from the rest. And once when my brother was farting about with this clapped-out old Honda cub motorbike, he drained the petrol once, At some point that evening our mum looked out of the window to spy Satan just finishing drinking the lot out of the pan under the bike. We kept him in the yard for two days in case he exploded or something.

He must have inherited some supernatural aspect though, as he never once appeared to suffer any ill-effect from any of these things he gobbled or guzzled. He may have been thick, but he had a titanium constitution.

We put him to sleep when old age started to get the better of him. He probably got that far because we were a lot more careful as to what he did and didn't have access to after the petrol incident - we really thought that would be the end of him.

daftbastardofathingsohewas :)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 13:02, Reply)

The immortal bloody fish
A story told by the Girlfriend:

A long time ago we had this fish, a Japanese Weather Loach to be precise. It was kept in a tank in the living room which didn't have a proper cover, but instead a piece of plastic. The fish had developed this skill of launching itself out of the tank and spending the night on the carpet.

Miraculously, it would survive this ordeal and get put into a bowl of water to de-fluff before being put back into the tank. After a couple of times, my Mum weighted down the lid of the tank with some books, but left a small gap at the side to allow for feeding. Possibly a bad idea. Damn thing escaped again, and again, and again. It even managed it when there was no gap left at the side. It was a very determined fishy.

Eventually, my Mum snapped. On finding it all the way across the room one morning, she just put it into the ash bucket used for cleaning out the fire. And it still wouldn't give up.

The last I saw of my suicidal fishy was it flopping around covered in ash before being buried under a viciously dumped shovelful.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Sun 10 Jun 2007, 12:48, Reply)

Gerbils are not known for long lives.
We had a couple of these when I was a but a nippy nipper, bought off a neighbour whom I never recall seeing in my life, merely through myth and legend.

One day, the gerbils die from not being fed. Tragic, yet boring tale. What makes it special? One of the gerbils was named after me.

I don't think I slept for a fucking week after finding that out.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Sun 10 Jun 2007, 12:36, Reply)

Friends of friends of my parents
Yes, it's one of those ones...had a rabbit. But not just any rabbit, a psychotic mental rabbit. Every day he would be let out of his hutch in the garage, run round the garden really quickly and then hit his head on the closed kitchen door. This he would repeat for hours on end until he got too tired, was carried back to his hutch and went to sleep ready for another days worth of running and head smacking. Odd, Eh?

So one day my parents friends go over to dinner with their friends and during the course of the meal, the two men are chatting, at which point the host says, Ooh, come and look at this, I've got something to show you, and takes him to the garage where he has been growing his very own marijuana...leafless marijuana.

I have been informed that the rabbit has just come out of rehab, fully reformed.
(Arse Biscuits The question is not who, but why?, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 12:29, Reply)

Your fish needs YOU!
As most cats do, our cat Pashta used to come bearing gifts. Often it would be a severed mouse head, the choicest of rat-innards or a collection of feathers and gunk.

One day I hear him yowling at the door desperate to be let in, open the door to the kitchen and...in he comes with a fish in his mouth. Not just any fish, oh no, it's the hugest Koi Carp I've ever seen in my life and it's hanging out of both sides of his mouth. He drops the mammoth goldfish, and it flails about on the floor. It's alive! Quickly I get a bowl and just about manage to get the fish in so I can fill it with water so it doesn't die. Meanwhile, I take the bowl and go upstairs to run a bath. I now have a bathtub full of freezing cold water with a huge fuck-off goldfish swimming blearily round and round in circles in it.

Both I and my mum were flummoxed. We didn't have a pond into which we could put the fish, nor did anybody in the street around us or for a long way round. This fish must've come from much further down the street. So, that evening we made posters and stuck them up all round the neighboring streets:

HAVE YOU LOST A FISH?
YOUR FISH NEEDS YOU!
we currently have a large koi carp swimming round our bathtub. If you've lost a fish, please call etc etc

We only got one call, and it was from some bloke saying that it wasn't his fish, but we'd given him the best laugh he'd had all day. Eventually our neighbor's brother in law came round and agreed to take the fish. He had a pond....but then he also had a deep fat fryer. Oh well.
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 10:58, Reply)

Haha I just remembered
My cat Rambo (see prior post) once licked the logburner. Which was in the process of burning logs at the time (as is the nature of such things).

I don't know why, but he didn't ever do it again.
(kadee may or may not be a nymphomaniac, Sun 10 Jun 2007, 10:46, Reply)