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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)
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This question is now closed.

Bunny Huggles
The current significant other has a pet rabbit - here's a video (sorry for quality) we took when we came in (slightly tipsy) one time.

It's not too clear, but he rips a piece of paper and runs around with it in front of his face...highly amusing after several beers, couple of sambucas, few vodkas and some tequila...
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 10:01, Reply)
The ex had this cat Rosco - only had one eye (some plick had beaten it with a stick as a kitten).

Damn thing was huge and had this habit of sitting on the (closed) toilet seat and staring at you when you were in the bath. One time he decided to jump onto the edge of the bath, but only having one eye he had no depth perception...yup, he ended up in the bath (I'm still surprised how fast I got my legs and bits away).

This cat wasn't into catching mice, oh no, he caught rabbits. Many a time I was having a tug of war with him trying to get his latest catch from him before he shredded it all over the lawn for the dogs to roll in (2 jack russells - scared stiff of the cat).

I don't miss the ex, just her cat...
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 9:57, Reply)
Bloated Cat
I was around a mates house many years ago smoking away and we were all in a haze.
My friend Dan asked me for a cigarette which I lazily threw onto the floor. Before we could react, Skittle the bloated black and white cat picked up the cigarette in his mouth the right way round, we could even see his fat lips purse, walked across the room with it sticking out of his mouth and placed it on the floor.
A Kodak moment without a camera.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 9:41, Reply)
Not my pet, I never found out whose it was. This should also have been posted under 'when animals attack', but i haven't quite perfected the time travelling device yet. My mate Seth used it a while back and turned into a fly! Fancy that!

Back when i was a God-botherer, I had agreed to deliver some leaflets for one of my churches fantastic outreach events (mainly fantastic for the sumo suit/golf club games we used to have), and was with two other guys in the middle of Brighton, ready to post said leaflets through letterboxes etc.

I'd posted about three when all of a sudden, something snagged my hand. Jesus! Gash! Other profanities! i recoiled, and stared at my hand,or more specifically the end of my middle finger on my right hand, which had a rather nasty gash in it, right through the nail. I can still feel the pain now, it was excruciating. I mean, just about the most dreadful pain i can ever recall experiencing.

All the nerve endings and the nail were pretty much decimated from one dastardly dog's insidious chomper.

I staggered out into the middle of the road (Ditchling Road for any Brightonians, and, come to think of it, was lucky not to get mowed down by a car) and gestured for help to the other guys. They just thought I was waving at them, until they saw the blood spurting out from all directions.

I was taken to the hospital, and I hadn't picked up any infections or such like, so was largely ok, but I was seriously debilitated from just losing the use of my finger and subsequently my hand, as I didn't want to take the risk of bashing it and opening the wound. the bandage stank, and then stank of rotten deodorant when i tried to 'freshen it up'. Fool I am.

People still ask me what happened, as in the intricacies of the actual attack. the truth of the matter is that i shall never know what went on inside the door, but the chances are that the dog took a liking to the leaflet and also inadvertently munched my finger in the process.

I guess in hindsight this story is tame compared to people losing legs to animals etc, but it hurt like a bastard for about two days. It has also given me an innate fear of dogs, and subsequently I tense up uncontrollably when i see them. Also my nail feels as though it is upside down, which is very weird i can tell you.

The moral of the story is don't be a God-botherer. JOKE! Don't though, they turn you into some kind of leaflet-robot, and expect that prayer will ease the pain of having half your fingernail eaten off. Sure.

Apologies for length, perhaps if it had been my little finger the mutt would have missed...

p.s. apologies for going off topic, but it involves someone's pet. i'm sure they laugh about it with their kids. 'Ho ho ho, remember that poor bastard. Now sit down and let daddy ream your bottom, there's a good boy.'
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 9:34, Reply)
it's not that I don't like dogs, it's just that one day

they're going to discover that we're made of meat.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 9:10, Reply)
My mate's dog
is a chocolate brown lab called Rover. Beautiful looking although his back legs do not work at all. In the back yard its almost tragic to see this magnificent 100lb beast scooting round on his ass.

Now they love this dog and being a handy chap he built his dog a trolley and wheels so he could go for a walk - i.e. his front legs pulling himself along with his back legs in the trolley.

All well and good, except one day near their home, which is close to the main road, the wheels break off the trolley and being a BIG dog he's too heavy to lift so my mate is kinda pushing/cajoling him back on the now sled like device. A 'concerned' dog lover then stops his car and starts shouting at my mate about cruelly abusing the dog, not listening to my mate trying to explain his predicament.

The man threatens him and it nearly comes to blows before the man gets in his motor and rushes off. On arriving home, somewhat pissed off, my mate is greeted by the police and RSPCA inspectors who tell him he was reported 'dragging' Rover, after about 30 seconds of watching the mutt scooting around realise the problems and leave.

Bad name for this dog is Rover.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 8:57, Reply)
When I was still with my wife we had a little black cat called Fuckhead*
He was vere cute and fluffy and he liked to play...

Er, sorry, no. That's most cats. This one was a complete fucktard who liked nothing more than pissing me off in millions of ways.

Washed the car? He'd be walking all over it within minutes. For some reason his preferred path from the front door to the road was OVER the car, complete with muddy footprints.

He was also a psychopathic serial killer, and killed mice / birds / rabbits regularly. Highlights of this were:

* a fucking ENORMOUS rabbit that he couldn't get through the cat flap so instead he left it just outside the front door and ate a little bit more every time he was passing.

* the live birds he used to bring in sometimes and then let go, to chase gleefully around the house as they sprayed blood everywhere.

* the live mice he brought in, which he'd then accidentally drop and we'd spend hours trying to catch.

He was also completely stupid. An example of this? He met the lovely Jessie once, and didn't like her.

*Fuckhead wasn't his real name.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 8:55, Reply)
...and he's huge! So huge that we called him (KILLER/GIANT/IVAN/ROCKY/THE HIMALAYAS/.PNG POST/THE FUCKING MOON). He's great around the family, but god help the (NEIGHBOURS/POSTMAN/MILKMAN/GENERAL UTILITY REPAIRMAN/POLICEMAN/JEHOVA'S WITNESSES) who visited last time; he chased them up the (TREE/GARDEN PATH/HEDGE/SHED/ROAD/KHYBER PASS)!

He's dead now though, but instead we got another one (who'se not quite as good, but is in training).
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 8:34, Reply)
I name my fish
But I'm not talking about goldfish or anything here, I recently took up fishing as a hobby.
Specifically, trout or catfish. When they're on my stringer I tend to give them names, and when I take them home and gut 'em and clean 'em before cooking/freezing them, my husband freaks when I call them Bill, Bob, Claude or Nemo. (And the cats think they're in heaven........fresh fish!)
Personally, I think it's funny, but last time there was a worm still left in one of the gullets - that didn't go down too well.

(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 6:38, Reply)
My fat beagle
Bonnie decided to ruin the fireworks my dad had lovingly prepared for bonfire night by chewing them all up. Im amazed that didnt kill her to be honest.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 5:44, Reply)
A mate's horse.. I mean DOG...
.. was huuge - He was a purpose bred Australian Hunting dog with a mix of a few breeds like the Bull Mastiff for size and strength and whippet for speed and the brindle colour (apparently great for camouflage???!), yet with the height of a Great Dane (although no Dane genes I was told). Weighed in at around 90kg..!

A gentle giant with his master around, but a psycho-demon-monster from HELL when not. No wonder he was called Ivan. (the terrible)

One of Ivan's favourite chew toys were RATS - and by chew toy I mean he would catch a rat and simply suck on it for hours, in his mouth with the tail hanging out from between his teeth.

(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 3:23, Reply)
Not too smart.
I once took my dog to the nearby dog park on a beautiful sunny day. While I was there I saw a very cute lab that was missing one of his back legs. That sure didn't stop him, he ran around happy as can be.

At one point he found a bush he liked and hopped up next to it on the side with the missing leg. "How convenient for him," I thought, "he doesn't have to lift his leg to pee."
You can guess what's coming.
He then proceeded to lift his one and only back leg.
Or tried, anyway...
He lifted it halfway before he had to stop himself from hitting his butt on the ground.
I never knew a dog could be so clueless. Maybe he lost it not long before.
Dogs can be really funny sometimes.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 2:45, Reply)
i got two kinda strange cats
one of my cats can detect ganja from a long distance as he really likes to get stoned.

he caught a bird once (as a message, never for fun, always to say something..). took it into a bush where i couldnt get at him as it was still alive and didnt look damaged. he gave me a knowing look.. then ate its head

the other cat brought in a mouse once and it managed to escape unscathed behind some cupboards. it lived in the kitchen for 2 weeks living off cornflakes and water from the cats bowl when they were out. ended up having to create a macguyver like device to help it escape and it worked yay!

she also i discovered was working part-time as a "horse" for a little girl down the road to ride her dolls on. saw them one day as i was walking past, my cat seemed to be enjoying herself so i just left em to it

my friends old cat (may she RIP) used to beat up male cats all the time..

sorry for all the cats BUT I LOVE CATS OK :}
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 2:12, Reply)
When I was a nipper my parents inherited a golden retriever which had spent the first few years of her life as a gamekeepers dog. She had lived in a kennel until until she came to live with us and was lacking in social graces. One of her favourite pasttimes was to roll in foul-smelling substances she'd found when out walking. Fox shit was preferred, cowshit would do at a pinch, and on one memorable occasion when walking along a canal she discovered and rolled in a dead and well-decomposed pike. Pretty much every walk would end with someone hosing her down in the back garden. We used to buy those family-sized bottles of cheap shampoo and keep one out by the outside tap.

True to her breeding she'd also retrieve things. And, true to her training as a gundog she wouldn't drop them until you had a firm grip on them and took them from her. Fine if it's a pheasant you've just shot; not so great when it's a long-dead, rotting, and slimy rabbit carcass. We could never break her of this habit. She'd got the idea in her head that you don't let go of the thing you've retrieved until someone takes it from you, and that was that. How they train these animals to be guide dogs I'll never know. They're beautifully sweet-tempered but as dim as they come.

She'd also run upwards of half a mile just to jump into cow's drinking troughs, stagnant ponds, muddy puddles, the effluent from silage pits... anything wet. She loved the water. She'd retrieve rocks as big as her head from the bottom of streams, squeaking with excitement while she did so. And she'd leap into rivers off of bridges. She never hurt herself doing that - god knows how - but about once a month we'd have to take her to the vet to get her patched up where she'd charged full tilt into a barbed wire fence while chasing something.

She was a bloody legend. She lived to be about fifteen without slowing down at all or losing any of her unsavoury habits, and died in about 1990. I still miss her now.

Length? She was about... ooh... four feet nose to tail?

(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 1:31, Reply)
Guinea Pigs
We have five guinea pigs in a massive cage in our kitchen. They are all very sweet, and you would be surprised what the little fat balls of fluff get up to.

They each have individual personalities. There is Fidget, the matriarch and badass of the group. She is teddy bear sized, and acts like one when you hold her. Second in command is Gizmo, so called because she has the same colours as said Gremlin. Next is Davina, who got very fat very quickly once we got her. Then Mo, who has a flatter face and coughs a lot but sports a mean karate kick. I have seen her plant a perfect high kick into the chin of our last pig Twitch. Talking of which, Twitch is the youngest, a massive whiner (there is just constant whittering from her direction) and possibly special needs, due to the fact her eyes distinctly point in different directions and if the other Pigs annoy her she sticks her arse in the air and pisses at them.

They are partcularly cute when they settle down to sleep as they will roll onto their side slightly and stick their back leg out (or both if really relaxed) and resemble a somewhat banana shape. They also sleep with their eyes open. It is quite amusing to stick your head right up close to them, and make a slight noise, at which point they wake up and pretty much crap themselves. Not that that is unpleasant, as their poos are shaped like small torpedoes and generally consist of digested hay.

However, by far the weirdest and oddest things they do, are the actions they go through to work out their hierachy and dominance. The main dominance behaviour, which happens approximately every two weeks (I guess the equivilent of the guinea pig blob) is called rumble-strutting. This consists of on heat pig essentially going into slow motion, making a noise like a road drill, and wiggling their arse side to side. If someone really needs to show dominance though, they will mount and hump another pig. They are all girls and I have to say, it is slightly disturbing to witness girl on girl guinea pig action...

Length? About 8 - 12 inches and very hairy.

PS. they are so funky they even have their own website: www.rockinguineas.co.uk
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 1:06, Reply)
punk budgie
when i was a wee one, we had a budgie. He seemed quiet a happy budgie, we never locked his cage and he was free to fly around the house till his hearts content.

then my nan came to live with us, and she had an evil budgie which would attack our budgie. my nan was quiet evil too, and wouldnt let the budgie have free reign anymore.

the budgies had to stay in there cages, (opposit sides of the room as evil budgie would taunt nice budgie) unless the parentals were in, and nan was out.

unfortunately, nice budgie found this all too stressfull, and started plucking out his feathers.

and didn't stop.

he was left with just a mohawk of feathers left going from the top of his head to the bottom of his neck.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 0:59, Reply)
My feline
I have a young cat called Dodger...before I explain why he's a legend, I need to give you some quick info on the layout of my house. Bear with me here.

My dad is an illustrator and has an office with a window in it that looks out over our yard. Directly beneath the window in the yard is a garden bench.

So y'see. One day it was raining hard and Dodger (being the dappy sod that he is) is outside and desperate to get in. So he wisely climbs up to the window sill of my dad's office and juuust about starts to squeeze in through said window. Realising he was about to tread wet paw prints over weeks of artwork, my dad gives him a little shove back out the window and thinks no more of it.

Except, Dodger doesn't turn up for dinner that evening.

Nor the evening after next.

Nor the evening after next...

A few days go by and no sign of Dodger (his brother, the aptly-named Fatty, is making the most of a whole tin of Whiskas to himself each day). Then we're shocked to see him return looking very sorry for himself, dragging a bag of bones that used to be a front leg with him. What had actually happened was, he'd fallen off the window sill and snapped his leg between the slats of wood on the bench...poor bugger! Needless to say dad was feeling somewhat guilty and ashamed of himself.

So now our cat has an enormous metal pin in it's leg leading to his nickname: The Bionic Cat.
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 0:50, Reply)
cow thief
on the phone to my friend one day when he suddenly exclaims ' holy f*ck theres a cow making off with my washing'!

his mums garden is next to a field, the residents of which had 'broken' into his garden and plodded through the washing line which was full of nice clean clothes.
took him quite a while to chase down the feckers and get his not so shiney whites back!
(, Wed 13 Jun 2007, 0:35, Reply)
Our family have had 2 dobermanns.

The first was Albert. When very young he didn't understand what water was, and would just run straight towards it thinking it was solid land. This would generally end with a large splash and a very wet dog. Despite this early confusion he gradually developed a bit of a reputation as a badass.

According to my Dad, on one walk he jumped a fence, caught his front legs on the top, flipped over and landed on his back, got up and carried on. On another, he ran into a wire fence, but instead of getting decapitated he pulled 10ft of wire fencing down either side before it bought him to a grinding halt.

His triumph though was taking on a pack of police alsations which all promptly legged it with their tails between their legs.

Our second Dobermann, Duke, had entirely the opposite reputation. We got him from a rescue, where he had been saved from being put down. Some arsehole had taken him to the vet because he wasn't a very good guard dog and had requested he be put down (he was about 2 at this point). The vet flatly refused and had him sent to a rescue.

The guy did have a point though. Duke never barked at the door, greeted everyone with interest and joy, whimpered constantly in the car, couldn't swim (not even a doggy paddle) and was even known to have eaten a satsuma. The worst he could do to you was sit on your foot when he sidled up to you for a stroke.

However, on one walk, we came head to head with a psycho motherfucker boxer dog. We saw this thing from a distance, and it actually lay down in the long grass like a lion waiting to attack. Duke, being the amicable chap that he was wondered up to say hello to owner and dog, at which point lion/boxer hybrid pounces on him and pins him against a fence. The dumb bitch owner of said psycho dog stood stone still and clearly had no control over her clearly dangerous dog. My Dad, who was not having any of this, waded in, grabbed psycho dog by the collar, lifted him clear of Duke, and booted the boxer fucking hard, right up the arse. The dog then shut the fuck up and the dumb bitch owner managed to get it on a lead. However as they walked away we realised that while my Dad was pulling the boxer off of him, Duke had snapped real viciously back, and ripped a massive chunk of skin from the boxer's lip, which was hanging from it's mouth rather gruesomely. On further inspection Duke was none the worse for wear. I was well proud of him after that.

Length, about 6 inches and dripping with blood...
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 23:46, Reply)
foster chicken
When my gran was a kid in weatmeath, they had many pets, one of which was a Much loved chicken with unfulfilled maternal tendendies. Upon discovering this her folks put her to good use as she was more than happy to hatch and raise orphaned or abandonned eggs. Despite the size difference, she hapily taised quails,guinea hens and even some turkeys. However, imagine her confusion upon raising some ducklings, and them finding the pond - my gran said she never seen anything like the panic,hen trying to get everyones attention/assistence as they laughed, when she thought her babies were drowning and she couldnt get to them...and when she eventually realised they were ok, staring into the water wondering why she couldnt swim..poor dear
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 22:35, Reply)
Our cat Harvey
Wondering through the living room, gave a stylish swish of her tail as she strolled in front of the gas fire. Whumph! Her tail caught alight, right at the end, like a shrieking, grey, furry candle. On legs. Luckily my dad had the quick enough reactions to grab the cat, scarpering into the kitching and dunking the poor, flaming mog into the washing up bowl, handily filled with cold water.

Silly mog, but she was lovely.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 22:17, Reply)
My girlfriend
said that she thinks we should shave her pussy
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 22:08, Reply)
I love my cat

Here are some facts:

She's called Floyd and is a very fluffy tortoise shell thing and completely bonkers. She's also the biggest tart on the planet. Where I used to live Floyd was able to climb out the window and sit on the wall outside, whoring herself every time a couple of old ladies walked past.

She once went 'walkabout' and I didn't see her for a week. Turned out she was in the flat upstairs, gaining entry through a bathroom window whilst the young lady occupant was in the bath.

She has the killer instinct of a boiled potato and the only 'spoils of war' she has ever brought me was a dead leaf and a feather. Although she does like fighting, as long as there is a suitable barrier between us. Otherwise she runs off.

Most of the floors in my house are polished wood and hours of fun can be had watching her power slide round corners.

She loves fish and thinks nothing of sticking her paws on my plate whilst I'm eating. She goes mental for silver foil.

She once taught her only kitten how to jump on to things, misjudged the height and fell arse over tit back to earth, with the very impressed kitten looking on. She turned with an expression that said: "Now son, that's how NOT to jump on to things..."

Not a very interesting story but I wanted to get a photo of my cat on to B3TA...
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 21:13, Reply)
Borag Thung, doglings
My dog used to read 2000 ad every week, when I'd finished it. And he had a mohican.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 21:04, Reply)
@ Reid-
Your nan wouldn't happen to hang out with John Cleese or Terry Gilliam or any of those guys, would she? Reading about this rabbit I kept hearing Graham Chapman screaming, "Run away!"
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 20:59, Reply)
Diamonds are a dogs best friend
My girlfriend and I have been going through a rocky patch.

It started a couple of months ago when I proposed to her but I dropped the ring and the dog ate it.

We've been going through the motions ever since.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 20:51, Reply)
Your rabbit's a fucking wuss compared to Jaffa.
My nan's rabbit, Jaffa, now sadly deceased, lived to be 11 years old. It was also the most bad tempered rabbit I've ever seen. It had huge bright yellow teeth, white fur, and evil red eyes and would literally go for you if you threatened it. It also made a low rumbling noise.

One night, a fox turned up at my nan's house. She shooed it away, fearing it would try and eat the rabbit. But that wasn't the end of Mister Fox.

When he came back, later, he proceeded to go after Jaffa. My nan heard what she calls "a terrible wail" from the garden. She gets out there and finds Jaffa's mouth clamped around the nose of the fox who is desperately trying to shake himself free.

Finally, the fox shook Jaffa off, at which the rabbit literally growled (unless my nan's making things up) and charged at him. At this, the fox took major evasive action.

Later on, my grandad came outside and found lots of blood on Jaffa's fur and their garden. But it wasn't rabbit blood. Oh certainly not.

He lived to die of natural causes last year.

Here's to Jaffa, fox-slaying rabbit.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 20:51, Reply)
Lucy Goosey
Our neighbor had a goose that one day wandered over and started following me and my family around. We thought it was so adorable that we wanted to name it and let it just hang out with us. But the next day we couldn't find it anywhere, and then we heard it honking next door. They had locked it up in a pen! My step-father, Rich, went over there and asked our neighbor why he locked it up and he said she was an ornery bitch who would just be a nuisance and attack anyone that came near her. "But she liked us!" Rich protested, so our neighbor basically said "Fine then, it's yours".

Well it turns out the reason she was such an utter cunt to most people is that she had lost her mate, and geese mate for life, and apparently she had taken a fancy to Rich! So now she follows him around, making geesy noises every time he talks on the phone and honking and screaming every time she hears his truck (or any truck for that matter) and runs full speed to the driveway. She's fairly protective, too and will attack total strangers if they act too hostile or affectionate towards Rich. She once kept a postman trapped in his car four over an hour until my step-dad arrived to rescue him. She's also a randy old gal, especially in the spring. My older brother had a friend who she tried to rape while he sat by a bonfire outside, and in his horror he threw his beer on her to get her to back off, but I think that just made it worse. My mom and her have formed some sort of truce, though. I assume that Mom must have knocked the hell out of her the first time she tried anything. We even buried an old bathtub in the backyard for her to bathe in as she'd muck up our pool and be in there all hours of the night splashing.

Heres a pic:

(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 19:41, Reply)
whilst young
i was apparently not so innocent, and quite the sadistic fucker.
i grabbed my cat by the tail. and dunked him clean into a tub of water, used for watering plants and such in my idealic english countryside upbringing.
needless to say, the cat was none too impressed.

though neither was my father.

he promptly grabbed me by the feet and dunked me in the very same tub of water a number of times, until he saw fit that i had learnt my lesson.
needless to say, my sadistic cat-dunking days were well and truly over.

if anyone remembers, this is the same cat that attempted to pierce my nose for me, so i suppose he got his own back in the end.

i like dogs now.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 19:16, Reply)
Fear of Handguns
My good friend had a great wee wire haired terrier that sadly passed away some years ago. He had a strange aversion to you pointing at him with your finger and mimicking the sound of a gun, in fact he would go spare if you didn't stop after the first twitching of his lip, it wasn't just hands either we tried it with cusions a box of tissues and a an old peanut jar and he always reacted in the same way.

I had a bruiser of a cat with no tail which managed to almost decimate a warren of rabbits leaving just a few younsters which we promptly rescued and reared until they were fit enough to survive on thier own. Finding a half eaten rabbit behind the setee isn't the best thing in the world.
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 19:11, Reply)

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