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This is a question Pet Stories

When one of my cats was younger and a lot fatter, he came bowling in from the garden with an almighty crash. Looking slightly stunned, he'd arrived into the kitchen having ripped the cat flap from the door and was still wearing it as a cat-tutu. Did I mention he was quite fat?

In honour of Jake, a well loved cat, who died on Wednesday, tell us your pet stories and cheer us up.

(, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 9:15)
Pages: Latest, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Naughty Rotty
A few years ago I met up with a friend of mine for a few beers one Sunday lunchtime at a reasonably posh sort of a pub in South London. He turned up with his wife, and their dog, a friendly rottweiller. We were informed that we could only sit in the Public Bar if he wanted to bring the dog in, as there was a restaurant / Beefeater type eatery in the other half of the pub.

So, into the Public Bar we head and proceed to steadily work our way through eight or nine pints, with the canine asleep under the table. Anyway, a couple of hours into the session, a distraught restaurant manager (who was distinctly light on the loafers) came rushing round in a state of alarm, as allegedly my mate's dog had "eaten half of the sweet trolley".

My mate immediately leaps to the dog's defence, "No fucking way has my dog touched any food in that shit restaurant".....

Perfectly on cue, the rottweiller appears round the corner. Where its head used to be is a massive ball of cream, meringue, strawberries, kiwifruit etc with a happy tongue and a couple of eyes sticking out. To the annoyance of the restaurant gimp, the whole bar cracks up for about five minutes.

As a funny conclusion to the story, my mate was forced to pay 120 quid for the day's supply of puddings on the trolley. However, as the manager walked off with my mate's cash, my mate demanded that the trolley, along with left overs, be put in the car park for the dog to finish, as he had "fucking paid for it".

Amazingly, they did put it out there, and the dog spent the next few hours mullering its way through the remainder of trifles, steamed puddings, and chocolate gateaus. It must have had an almighty shit at some later stage.

Very funny day.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 23:27, Reply)
Drunk...on chocolate
My dog once ate some chocolate, and became what I can only describe as drunk. He kept running around adly for about 20 mins, ran into the house, kept running, until he figured out there were some stairs. He tried madly to brake, but it was to no avail. He came tumbling down the stairs and hit the door at the bottom.

It was quite funny to watch
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 23:15, Reply)
Oh, Fudge
My dog Fudge (who was previously called Faustus, but thats another story) regularly has coughing fits that make him collapse on the floor and twitch madly, through lack of oxygen.

Its not even that funny if you think about it.

(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 23:12, Reply)
Gay Cats
My Cats Plato and Digby are brothers and quite normal. Imagine my suprise when they decided to wait until a BIG family gathering - grandparents and all - to sixty nine each other on the rug in front of the assembled crowd... very off putting...
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 23:11, Reply)
Stoned dog
My dog stole weed from my mate, and ate it, promptly getting herself stoned, she then ran out into the road, and got hit.

Best bit was she didn't care, she did her back legs in, and walked with a limp for a while, she's not the brightest of animals, but I love her to bits.

[insert bad joke about penis length here]
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 23:01, Reply)
Not me
But the other half and I were in bed post, er, fun when the cat came up.

The cat expressed an interest in getting under the quilt so it was duly lifted.

The cat then headed towards my manhood and tried to lick it - damn nearly succeeded too.

Cat was duly thrown out of the bed/room/upstairs...

Edit: There was only 2 of us in bed - and it was NOT a man. She's all woman :o)
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 22:34, Reply)
greedy houdini
I have a little story about my little hamster Harriet.

Harriet, who is sadly no longer with us, was effing huge, and really, really beautiful. Sable fur and big big eyes, she looked like a tiny bear.

Harriet was a real homemaker, she got very affronted when anyone dared to move anything in her cage and would kick up a real fuss and block all the tubes up with sawdust whenever you cleaned her out.

One night, mummy dearest forgot to put the lid back on Harriet's cage after she had been for her nightly stroll around the house in her royal hamster ball.

Harriet, being so proud of her home, did not attempt an escape. Instead, she sauntered out, hoovered up all the hamster treats and sugar flowers mum had been making for a wedding cake and had left on the dresser, and then calmly put herself back to bed.


Also, if anyone says hamsters aren't intelligent they are WRONG WRONG WRONG - Harriet knew my voice and would climb up on my mum's shoulder to listen to me talk on the phone when I was away and calling home. How very cute.

I miss that little fluffy thing :(
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 22:33, Reply)
Another dog story
The popular image of Dalmatians, thanks to Walt Disney, is of cute, gentle and lovable animals. I now know this to be a lie having met a pair that belong to some family friends - they're generally quite narky, and though neither has bitten me I can only assume it's a matter of time, given all the growling that goes on.

Anyway I've heard a couple of gruesome, yet quite amusing stories about Dotty and Dick...

Viv, the owner, sometimes takes the dogs to the local common for walks, which (this being Wimbledon) contain an unfeasible number of young mums and their associated sprogs. One of the ravenous animals escaped and immediately went to find something to kill, which luckily was a rabbit rather than a child.

Nonetheless the rabbit that Dotty had caught was making a squealing noise, and children in the vicinity started to cry at the sight of the mauling. This was clearly unacceptable, so Viv went (risking her own limbs) to grab the mewling creature from the baying animal's jaws - but at the prospect of having its plaything taken away, Dotty put her head back and simply swallowed the rabbit whole. I suspect the children were scarred for life.

The second evidence to lack of cuteness in these animals was that the other one, Dick, killed a stag in their garden by ripping its throat out. A fucking STAG! jesus
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 21:04, Reply)
My friend's dog...
...was a somewhat aggressive Basset hound who used to help himself to all sorts of things, including bags of crisps gained on occasional raiding runs to the local pub.

On one occasion he managed to procure a Mars bar and, in the struggle to get it away from him, swallowed the entire thing, wrapper and all.

About a day later we were astonished to find the offending, fully wrapped Mars in the garden, having passed intact through Henry. We had to persuade my friend's dad not to give it a wash and save it for an unwelcome guest at a later date.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 20:50, Reply)
I keep giant African land snails. Although there are many of them, the patriarch is called Mittens and when he is fully stretched he is the length of my fore-arm. He loves the song "Africa" by Toto, and waves his feelers when you play it. They need a little thimbleful of beer in to help their shells grow, and after they've drunk it, they get a little tipsy and wobble about. Its very cute. They also eat Heinz baby food from a spoon. Brilliant animals.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 20:24, Reply)
Hagar the horrible.
When i was younger we had a yorkie called Hagar. Lovely when he was younger but as he got older he started to live up to his name, lived to be 17 so by the end he was truly horrible. But we still loved him.
Dad lived up north so me, my bros and Hagar would visit in the hols. Driving along the motorway, in Dad's van, I'm in front with the dog on my lap with his head out the window. All of a sudden this greeny white thing flies out of the dogs mouth onto my jeans. On closer inspection it lookekd like a little dog mouth guard. It was actually plaque, would savage you if you tried to clean his teeth so we didn't, and it smelt really 'kin bad. Dad and i are both heaving from the smell and neither of us want to touch it. Hagar turns to see what the fuss is, has a sniff then wolfs it down. I've never seen my Dad go so green!
It's making me feel ill just typing this.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:57, Reply)
Help! My dog is a racist...
As many regular b3tans will know, my father in an act of stupidity which is up there with General Custer deciding to pick a fight with a few Indians, decided to move myself, my mother and our family boxer dog to Cape Town in 1987 when the country was on the verge of revolution.

Our hitherto friendly Boxer dog; Pixie was sent by boat to Cape Town where she was collected by my Dad at the harbour. At this point, a previously unidentified character flaw in her made itself known at a very inopportune moment.

"Sir, is your dog vicious?" asked the dock worker as he filled out the paperwork

"No, she's great with people" replied my Dad.

At that instant, Pixie was let off the boat and charged at the poor dockworker with her teeth bared and barking like she meant it. Our much loved family mutt had turned into the hound of the Baskervilles.

"Aaagh, sir! Please can you put you dog on a lead!" pleaded the unfortunate chap on the receiving end of ferocious Boxer. The chap in question was of course black, but the relevance to this didn't become clear for a while.

You see, Pixie was ever the gentle family dog until approached by anyone of a non-Caucasian disposition, whereupon she started to snarl and bark with fanatical ferocity.

We realised this when the postman approached to deliver the mail.

"Good mornin'" greeted postie in his usual cheerful voice.

Grrrrrr.... Woof! Woof! Snarl.... Ku Klux hound had to be physically restrained from going straight for the throat.

We were totally at a loss to explain it. We couldn't recall her ever having seen a black person before and assumed she was reacting out of fear of something different.

Anyway. Two years later and we've been back in the UK for about fifteen months. My brother phoned home to say he was bringing his mate Arthur home for tea before they went out on the town. Okay, fine. However there was a little problem here...

My brother had to sit Arthur down and explain the situation.

"I am really sorry mate, but our ah, dog has a real problem with erm, black people. You're welcome to come round for tea and all, but please, please be careful with the dog". My bro continued to paint a picture of a docile family pet with racial view slightly to the right of Eugene Terreblanche, all the time feeling incredibly embarrassed and sheepish. I mean, how does one broach the subject of a dog which makes a Suffolk Policeman's view on racial harmony seem positively mild in polite company?

My brother opened the front door and ushered in Arthur. At this point Pixie bolted through the lounge toward the front door before anyone could get near her, barking for all she's worth....

... And promptly greets Arthur like a long lost friend.

Talk about awkward.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:52, Reply)
Christmas in July??
My first cat was called Nisa (no not the cheap food store - its Thai for 'the moon' apparently). Her breed was Korat (posh thai breed) and she was loud, sometimes vicious and totally bonkers.

Nisa used to love hunting and bringing home sweet presents for the household. She brought us a robin at christmas....she didnt kill it or hurt it atall it seemed, just brought it into the house so it could shed its feathers all over our (pre christmas dinner) kitchen. Cue my mum being slightly miffed and the cat being VERY proud of herself for the surprise present.

One July, very early morning theres a hugh thud on my bedroom window....wtf i think, and promptly forget about it and go back to sleep. Getting up a few hours later i open my curtains to see a perfect dusty outline of a large bird (complete with facial features, well bird faced features, almost like it was drawn there) Upon going downstairs i found a (very big) sparrow hawk, dead in the same position as the outline on my window - apparently it had killed itself outright, and Nisa almost pinned to the glass of the patio door, wanting to get out and look at it before someone came and stole her prize. Not being one to miss an opportunity, she sat beside it (until i got help to move the recently deceased) and looked decidedly pleased with herself. She seemed convinced it was a present from the family for her previous dedication to bringing us creatures. She was my best friend for those few minutes while I tried to decide if i needed to call a nature reserve and tell them or something - in the end i decided it had no identity ring so was prob not necessary for me to fess up to bird death by misadventure. I think when i got back to pick it up she was trying to decide where to chew first...really, she was kitten sized her whole life this thing was one and a half times bigger than her!

The next christmas we got a sparrow :D

Cats xxx
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:52, Reply)
I fucked a dog

(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:48, Reply)
My cat got shot
My cat is a gangsta.

He came home one day, limping. Ignored me, and went straight to his food.

Weird, thinks I, so go and have a look. His leg is all floppy and stangely unarticlulated, looks really odd. Doesn't seem to be bothering him though. A closer look.

Bullet wound in the shoulder. Some fucking cunt had shot him with an air gun.

Still, he was nonchalant about the whole thing. Took him to the vets who said he'd have to have his leg amputated - the pellet had shattered the bone completely. She showed me the x-ray, and there was pretty much nothing in there - the bone had totally disintegrated.
Cat didn't seem bothered.

When I got him home, he seemed quite happy. He'd fall over now and again, and you could see him looking confused when he tried to move his missing leg and nothing happened, but he got used to it very fast.

I rang my then girlfriend to tell her what had happened.
'Cats lost his leg' says I.

'Oh No!' says she.

'Will he have to get a little wheel?'

slower pussycat kill kill

(I like to think that when his wounds healed, he went to where he got shot and lay in wait for the bastard who did it - and then took his face off.)
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:30, Reply)
I think this one is self-explanatory
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

He's a strange one he is... He was sleeping this way for a good 20 minutes...
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:22, Reply)
most rewarding pet
I have had a total of 5 kitty cats throughout my life so far......I have lost three of them and was heartbroken every time, of course who wouldn't be.....

I presently share my home with Bob (the big black dude) and Dev (the little gay dude) who loves Bob with a frightening amount of enthusiasm....which tends to get him beaten up eventually - aww they r so sweet when they curl up together, but Dev really can never leave it at that - he has to try & get Bobs' attention by pawing him in the face until Bob reacts & bites him (usually around the throat). This seems to be the desired reaction, however, because as soon as Bob get miffed & bites him Dev purrs like hes in heaven.....a VERY strange cat indeed......

Anyways enough backstory, the point of my post is that when we first got Dev from a rescue centre he was completely wild......and I do mean climbing the walls if a human came into the same room as him. For the 1st 3 days he lived with us & Bob, we never even saw him (i thought he had escaped once or twice). After much coaxing it appeared Dev would only allow us to be within earshot of him if Bob was around, sort of like a big hairy (and sometimes grumpy) comfort blanket. I found the only way i could get to see Dev (make him come out of his hiding places) was to use a trail of prawns or some other cat based treat (slices of ham failed in the end though as this is how we first got him into a basket to go to get his jabs.....hates ham now - what a dirty trick :P). Of course Bob had to be there too or even the prawns wouldnt work.

well its about 3 years later and after much ignoring/coaxing etc.. he has finally accepted that we wont eat him on sight. He even comes to us for loves now, although he is far from fully domesticated, and probably never will be. If the two of us (me & mr cats) are in the same room with him he has to run, but one at a time and he will allow fuss and playing with string etc... in fact he seems to be really playful now he's come out of his shell abit. For some reason he feels most secure in his human loves in the bathroom (is this the same with all cats?) and now i can't seem to go to the loo without a furry shadow pestering me for fuss. He purrs like he's gonna take off if i stroke him, but at no other time, in no other room of the house, does he show me this much love.

So in a nutshell Dev is the most rewarding pet i have ever had as he has changed so much just from a little tolerance and bribery.....oh and plenty of time :) I'm just peturbed that he only seems to want to be my friend when i have my pants round my ankles......oh and before you think......well he is a boy.....remember the gay bit?? As far as i can tell Dev LOVES Bob with an almost uncontrollable devotion. Bob comes in the house, Dev nearly flattens him by barging him about in that kitty greeting sorta way (just far too enthusiastically). Bob sits on his blanket, Dev has to sit curled around him or try & sneak inbetween his legs so he is effectively cuddled by Bob. I'm pretty sure he dont like girls.....well see for yourself :D



Apologies for length.......apparently Bobs is huge.....:O

Cats xxx
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 19:12, Reply)
Tigger poo face
We have this lovely cat called Tigger, really fat, ginger and the friendliest cat in the world. My sister was feeling ill one day and decided to stroke him and generally just try and pet him to make herself feel better.

Evidently Tigger wasnt feeling too good either, as he promptly turned round and shit in her face. Not solid, cat squits. In her face, hair, clothes everywhere. nice
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 18:08, Reply)
My dogs....
are/were AWESOME.

My dog Jess, a border collie (who died suddenly a few months ago from diabetes, boo), was great. Unlike our old dog, Bonnie, a sort of 'crazy old woman' of dogs, Jess was unbelievably sweet and gentle, and used to get all giddy with excitement if you so much as said her name, and sort of dashed around in circles and knocked things over with her huge tail. She used to bring us hedgehogs that were still alive, just balled up and terrified, and also used to dig 'stealthy', near-invisible holes in the garden for burying biscuits and things which we regularly fell over in. If you gave her roast beef, she would look at it suspiciously as if you were trying to poison her, but happily ate mouldy bits of bread she founds in a hedge. She also used to use washing on the line as a sort of swing by grabbing onto it and jumping. We still have a smaller westie called Sam (my dog and the best dog ever), who she used to bully relentlessly. She was faster and stronger, and used to take his food and toys, and barge into him for no apparent reason. She was ace at fetching stuff, even massive branches, pretty much whatever you could throw, and made a habit of twatting Sam on the back of the head with it while running past. She was also mint at herding animals/people/just Sam, and playing football by shoving it around with her nose. If a ball bounced somewhere, anywhere within earshot, she would whimper and whine and yell until she was let out to play. Basically just an awesome dog. RIP Jess.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:56, Reply)
Before my cat Benny (named after Benny from Top Cat) was de-bollocked he had a bad spell of spraying and indeed urinating in bad places, having been 100% housetrained before I got him at 6wks old.

The worst was when he climbed on top of my decks and pissed into my new mixer. Looking me dead in the eye whilst he was doing it. Even then I couldn't get angry - I love him like my own son, soft git that I am. Bastard eats better than I do most of the time.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:53, Reply)
Our family has always had cats, our current feline tenant is called Poppy. Poppy is a small tabby cat, who looks very sweet but is in fact the most unfriendly cat I've ever owned. As a result of her being so horrible, Karma has decided to re-address the cosmic balance by inflicting two slices of bad luck upon Poppy.

Before Poppy had been spayed she was quite a hit with the Tom Cats down our Road. One night after hearing some loud banshee style screeching from the back Garden my Mum thinks it would be a good idea to get the cat in. She opens the back door and in bowls Poppy, covered in some dodgy white substance. My mum shrieks and then declares at the top of her voice "Oh Poppy, your covered in seamen!” Turns out Poppy had been getting it on in the Garden which meant my mum spent the evening trying to wash cat spunk off Poppy.

Poppy also used to like playing with plastic carrier bags. One day while rolling around on the floor with a bag, she managed to get one of the handles over her head and round her neck. This scared poppy, lots, and she tore around the house with the bag round her neck like a little super heroes’ cape. The faster she ran the more the bag rustled in the wind and the more scared she got. She ran around for five minutes hissing and screeching before finally coming to rest under a cupboard in the kitchen. Bless her, she was so scared she pissed herself and it took ages to try and get the bag off her neck as she clawed and growled from under the cupboard.

She doesn't like carrier bags anymore.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:23, Reply)
My cousin entrusted my mum and dad with her beloved rabbit when she was going to Spain for a few weeks on business. I was about eleven.

I was holding it, as you would when you were eleven and excited because you've never had a furry thing before. Then the bastard thing leapt out of my arms onto the concrete (I was told later that it did like to jump and did so quite often, so people had stopped picking it up), particularly disastrous seeing as even at that tender age I was well over six foot.

The suicidal thing broke its hip by doing this, so the vet said when we took it to him. So we left it with him, only to be called up the next day to be informed that it had died in the night from a blood clot as a direct consequence of its leap of faith.

This was still only the day after my cousin had left these shores.

When she found out, she wasn't best pleased. She's only recently started talking to us again.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:22, Reply)
My cat
was in the garden chasing the wildlife like she does, I was on the sofa watching out through the patio doors and noticed she was stalking a bird, a pidgeon to be precise.

Me - Patio door - Pidgeon - Cat

My cat ran at pidgeon, pidgeon flew off my direction, straight into the patio door, a split second later followed by my poor excuse of a cat.

They both looked shocked and went their separate ways.

I also had a dog that got hit by a car. He's now 14 and boardering mental redardation.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:17, Reply)
i rather like my cats
and to be fair my mothers somewhat of a crazy cat lady
since ive been born ive had bout thirteen cats. (three were wild - two of those went off on their own after a while, four were kitten born in a dolls house under the stairs - we gave three away and still have one but that was bout thirteen years ago)

and to be truthfully honest i seem to end up with the stupidest and ugliest cats of all the litter.

of course still get the usual "presents" last one was three days ago when i found out that id been sleeping with a dead bird under the bed all night thanks to wilf.

then there is eric a buck tooth ginger git nick named Duane (sp?) Dibley who is the nastiest cat i own and after thirteen years still continues to shit everywhere and has a tendency to bite my nose

and matt (rip) a no-necked ugly thing with th brain of a flea, who continually ran head first in to book cases if anything freaked him out - a regualar occuence

also currently there is a fledgling crow hopping round my garden, i have managed to get within a foot or two of this thing and my cats have still not managed to maul it to pieces,

apologies for lack of hummus and length etc
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 17:15, Reply)
free gift ....
two years in november mr mouse and I went to the local organic free range pork farm to stock up on bacon and sausages and chops etc and as we were leaving the farmer added "you dont want a kitten do you?" we said we would have to think about it and a week later went back to visit the herd of mewing fluff balls. We agreed to take two as we felt that when we were in work they would keep each other company, and as they were due to leave mum during christmas week and we worried people would take them as presents. a couple of weeks later we went shopping and near bankruted ourselves on brushes food litter trays beds pet disinfectant (its purple) and all the other things baby kitties need. That evening we got the call.... "can we bring them round tonight they are under foot and their mum is sick of them" so we recieved our little fluff balls both what terry pratchett would describe as real cats. Black and white longish furred female farm cats. we called them lilo and stitch.

We loved them from the second we knew they were ours and spoilt them rotten. Unfortunatly some evil bastard knocked lilo over when she was only 17 months old. we were heart broken but had to be strong for stitch. we worry because she has no company but us and is very playful we think we should get her a friend but dont know if she would get on with another cat.
we think she wants a pet as she keeps bringing live animals and birds home pretty much un harmed (although she pulls flight feathers out of birds to ground then) we had real trouble finding what to do with the baby field mouse which fell asleep in my hand (so cute) luckily the RSPCA took it to a wildlife sanctuary for us.

PS I was pretty much raised by my families pets and still have a habbit of growling over my food.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 16:42, Reply)
When I was four or five
my friend and I cut the whiskers off of his cat... wasn't meant cruelly, just thought they were very long. We were unsurprising caught though as the poor creature raced off after one snip. Unfortunately though one quick snip was enough for one whole side.
We got rightfully bollocked, while our ex-feline friend speant the next age falling off things and twatting one side of it's face into things.

Eventually of course they grew back, but then a few years ago, shortly before he died at the age of 19, my friend gave it some Baileys as a Christmas treat. It fell down the back of the couch and was sick.

Yes, I think it's fair to say that I learned quite a few behavioural traits from Gandolf the cat.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 16:39, Reply)
Weeping over losing a pet...
For those people who are telling of weeping over the death of a pet, I give the following insight: if you don't weep when your pet dies, there's something seriously wrong. Even if it's a hamster or a hermit crab rather than a dog, it's still a living creature that you've shared your life with. Of course you'll feel sad when they're gone- and if you're like me, you'll feel the pain of that loss for a very long time.

On the other hand, in a way it's good that our pets have much shorter lives than we do, because it gives us the chance to get to know and love more of them.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 16:24, Reply)
cat story #55943229020222-C
My cat is a feral farm cat. She's fine now although it was fun for the first few months. It was like owning a large but violent cotton wool ball.

She sits in her little basket on the sofa and gazes adoringly at me most of the time. I was watching her as the basket slipped off and tipped upside down with her underneath. The sheer look of surprise was hysterical enough. However after a moments pause, the basket suddenly ran accross the floor into a wall. It repeated this for a while which was about the funniest thing i've ever seen. Eventually she managed to poke her head out and look at me with a rather dazed and confused expression. She walked past me nonchalanatly with a look that said "yeah whatever".

Note, for all those who dont get on with their cats. Remember, you only Co-exist with them, if they are pissed off with you, just ignore them, dont try to pet your way out of it they will hate you more. Just ignore them except for feeding them for a few weeks, you'll have a new cat i promise.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 16:11, Reply)
its not wrong to cry, mullered
little pet-shaped mates become part of the family - human psyche issue really - and they tug the heartstrings like they were one of your own.

I cried like a beyatch when my first cat died. I was 27, and every day on the drive home it got me - same spot everytime.

All pets of the past, sorely missed.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 16:07, Reply)
What's with all the cat hatred in here?
I've always had cats. How can you not love them? You just need to choose a kitten carefully- a snuggly kitten will grow to be a snuggly cat, and a rowdy unsocial kitten will become a not-so-nice cat. But even so, if you treat them well and snuggle them, they'll love you.

Of course, if you get a vicious kitten who attacks everything and you don't properly snuggle with him, you'll end up with something like this:

So choose your kittens well and give them lots of love. Otherwise they'll piss in your shoes and shred your genitals.
(, Mon 11 Jun 2007, 15:51, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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