My cat, also called Jake, is scared of his own shit
Whilst myself and mother were hanging out the washing, with the feline escorts, Jake dug himself a hole in the freshly mowed grass and laid a cable. Like most cats do after finishing, he turned around to inspect, but something about it shocked him so much the leapt in the air and ran into the house.
He reacts the same to passionfruit.
(Arsenic, Fri 13 Jul, 2:73 and, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 10:13, Reply)

Riga Mortis
I got up one morning and in the back garden there was a ginger cat, I went over to stroke it but it turned out to be dead, and had frozen solid in the night. I decided to take it to the vet, but because it had frozen all stretched out its head and arms were sticking out of the cat box. So I had to break its middle to bend it in half. It was disgusting.
(FizzyLogic, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 9:48, Reply)

My cat hates me
Another cat I had really enjoyed shitting in the pot plants, he could just walk outside for a dump, buy oh no, the lazy git can't be arsed to go that far. Hatching a plan we had a couple of robot dogs that have a 'guard mode' where they detect proximity motion and start barking and flashing their eyes red, so we put these by the plant and went out for chips. When we got home, he'd set the dogs alarms off and had a really runny shit on their heads, they looked so sad sitting there with it dribbled all over them.
( Brandy_Bumwinkle, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 9:41, Reply)

My cat loves me
The most interesting way I've ever been woken up was with my cat puking into my mouth. She'd been out mousing and had come in to give me some loving and obviously had eaten a few too many mice or maybe she thought I needed feeding as a gift to her beloved. I staggered into the bathroom to get some water to try and stop myself from throwing up and looking in the mirror saw I had small dangly mouse intestines hanging out of my mouth and a leg stuck to my cheek.
( Brandy_Bumwinkle, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 9:32, Reply)

Wilma
The incredible eating machine.

Not food, as such, although she can work her way through that pretty quick as well, just everything else. We've only had her six moths or so, and a look at her culinary delights includes :

The entire base of her own bed.
Sizable chunks of the walls in our rented house.
An entire bar of maya gold, and to wash it down, the packet containing a weeks worth of anti biotics prescribed by the vet as a result of her eating something else.

still, though, she is my little baby :


( DarkSon a time and date will follow this username on, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 8:37, Reply)

night owl.
i used to have a cat, and night owl was his name, this is his story.

a long time ago, on a certain day at a certain time, there was a young man and his family who had been hearing an owl schreeching in the bushes next of their house, all night long. it in not uncommon for owls to schreech all night long, thought the young man to himself, it is however, uncommon for it to schreech during the early hours of day. some time passed, and the young man's mother went outside to investigate the rather peculiar schreeching. as it turned out, the owl was not an owl at all, it was in fact, a kitten! the family nurtured the young kitten, and fed it like it was their own, even though the mother was allergic to cats. some time later, the cat had started his life outside the house, as he felt good there (and kept all the other bastard cats out) and never came indoors again. it even made friends with the young man's parrot, wich is quite unusual for a cat. then the family decided to move, and the cat decided not to come, and started a new life with the family's neighbour.

that is the story of my cat.
( Mr. Johnson, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 8:09, Reply)

put another vote in for cats
I've always had 'em. Currently we've got two sibling Siamese named Izzy and Miranda who are... wow, I think they're turning 9 at the end of this month. Time fliiiiies.

Despite the fact that they're from the same litter, Miranda is skinny and angular and looks like a 'modern' Siamese, while Izzy has a round face and is enormously overweight, like an old-fashioned "apple-head" Siamese. No one really knows why.

Being Siamese, they're both very talkative, and like to hold conversations with people where they make a yowling noise, you repeat it back to them, they say something else, you repeat that back, and so on until someone gets bored. You end up having conversations like this:

cat: MOW!
person: MOW!
cat: RUH OW!
person: RUH OW!
cat: WOWOW!
person: WOWOW!
etc.

They never make normal meowing noises. In fact, since my previous two cats were also yowlers (a Siamese and a Tonkinese), I didn't even know what real meows sounded like until I made friends in school who had 'normal' cats. The first time I heard a normal meow, after having grown up with cats every day of my life, I had two thoughts. One, "why is it so quiet?" and two, "oh wow, that's what a cat sounds like."

Right now as I type this Izzy is curled up into a happy fat ball of Siamese next to me, twitching and snoring. The snoring sounds like a series of wheezy little whines.

When I die I'd like to come back as a much-pampered Siamese cat.

edit:



Miranda in the front, Izzy in the back.
( TheFelineAnarchist, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 7:32, Reply)

Meet Buttoneye

(real name Rambo)

Lover of all things pink and fluffy.
Eater of lettuce, carrot, pretty much anything actually.
Hobbies include sleeping on peoples heads, falling off televisions, spraying bird parts all over the house, alternately making friends with and jumping on the back of other cats, and running around with feathery sticks tucked into his collar.

Occasionally susceptible to gammy eye.
(kadee may or may not be a nymphomaniac, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 5:54, Reply)

And a few more.
With some thought, I've recalled a few more stories involving other pets of mine and friends.

Let's begin, shall we?

A friend of mine, who we'll call Lauren, had 2 pet goldfish when she was the tender age of 6. Her younger sister Dale had a somewhat unhealthy infatuation with said fish. Lauren goes out somewhere (play-date with a friend, selling crack somewhere, who knows?) and Dale sees her chance. Fishing around in the tank, Dale grabs both goldfish and proceeds to give them a big long hug.
It seems the fish weren't so appreciative of her affections and promptly died.
Not to be found out, Dale had a cunning plan! Grabbing a banana from the fruitbowl and chomping through the fruit, she then deposited the dead fish into the empty skin and carefully placed fish-banana back into the bowl.
Boy, Lauren was in for a surprise when she decided she wanted a banana for a snack.

On the topic of fish, I had a few of them myself back in the day. 10, if I recall, of those little tropical fish. I also had a rat named Templeton.
Waking up one morning, I noticed there were only 9 fish, with no fish corpse floating around. I thought nothing of it. The next morning, 8. And then 7 and 6. I decided I wasn't going to have any more disappearing fish, so I watched them... And watched Temptleton break out of his cage, dive into the tank and eat one. Just one. Maybe he didn't think I'd notice if he only ate them one at a time.
The bastard.

And then there's Arthur the beagle, my mum's dog. Scared of everything, honestly. A plastic bag gets a reaction from him as if he'd just seen the beginning of the apocalypse. But worse than the plastic bags, is my dad's motorbike helmet. Upon seeing it on dad, Arthur yelps and whines, and buries his head under the corner of his bed. Just his head, mind you. He might be afraid to look at it, but he's not afraid to fart in it's general direction.

Length, girth... Ah sod it.
( is0lati0n, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 4:47, Reply)

Stinky
In addition to a chocolate craving iguana, I also have the meanest foul-tempered Greek tortoise I am aware of. As regularly traumatizing his cagemate, Gamara, is not enough, he will also go to great lengths to assert his dominance over any other creature in his space. Bombshell, the iguana, for instance, often has to deal with this tiny terror slowly chasing her around the cage bottom whenever she cares to descend from the heights of her heating lamp. When on the loose, human toes are also tempting targets for vicious weak-jawed nips; the giant bipedal bastards need to be put in their place, after all, and the tortoise seems always quite intent on letting us know who's in charge. Even the girlfriend's rats have suffered the turtley wrath of Stinky, one taking a rather unexpected bite across her pink tail while out and about. There's nothing quite like watching a tortoise sneak up on an unsuspecting white rat and giving her a solid bite in the rear. Quite the bully, our dear Stinky; he gets a lot of solitary confinement...
(dendrojoshidae, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 4:43, Reply)

Chocolate
As an avid reptile/amphibian lover, I have a growing menagerie of lovely ectotherms claiming every free cornier of the apartment we share with our girlfriend. The iguana, dear Bombshell, has been with me for a good many years now, and has apparently in that time developed a taste for chocolate, to the point where it is unsafe to leave any such tasty treat lying about when the lizard is on the roam. I can recall one occasion when, having labored over a batch of chocolate chip cookies, I left the try out on the counter to cool while I attended to some other matter which I don't recall now. Returning several minutes later, I found our elated green menace happily gorging herself on my fresh cookies, being sure to sample each and all. She has also been known to squeeze her way into cabinets and pantries in search of a fix, notably devouring an entire party-sized bag of Hershey Kisses. She was, of course, shitting bright, multicolored bits of foil for weeks (slow reptilian metabolism, and all). It should probably be noted that Bombshell is, in fact, male, but she's been female in our minds for so long now (we had some sexing issues when she was younger) that we've never been able to switch to using the proper pronouns when referring to her.
(dendrojoshidae, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 4:27, Reply)

Amelia
Bless, one of our 2 cats, Ruger, died last year - it was not pleasant watching him die by any means, and traumatized my husband and I for quite some time.
A few weeks prior to that, Down on the Farm had done a wonderful drawing of Ruger and Kramer - thanks DOTF!
Anyway, about 5 weeks after Ruger went to kitty heaven to frolic under the orange tree, our neighbors had found 2 abandoned kittens and rescued them. As soon as I laid eyes on this one kitty, I made my husband fall in love with her.
She was fluffy and had the biggest, most trusting eyes, and the neighbors said we could have her.
We named her Amelia.
Amelia was loads of fun, and we found out she was a Bengal cat. She was a little wild, but she would snuggle up to me on the couch and nuzzle into my hair.

About 5 weeks after we got her, his balls dropped. Yes. Amelia was actually a boy. We spend about an hour online making sure, we even measured the distance from anus to nuts to make sure. Then we took him to the vet. Yup, definitely a boy. Now his name is Cornelius, and he's still a wild child - even getting his nuts chopped didn't help much. But he still nuzzles up to me on the couch - he loves his mummy.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 3:44, Reply)

Never wank with your cat in the room, and here's why
When we were all 14, a pal of mine told me this story, then vehemently denied it when I passed it on to everyone we knew.

My friend was lucky enough to find that his parents and siblings were out of the house on evening, so he did what any fourteen year old boy would do in such a situation. He retired to the lounge, and began to watch Live TV on the big telly. While vigourously flagellating himself to Private Dancer, he noticed his fat ginger cat watching him on the couch. Unperturbed, he continued administering the pleasure-grip to his meat-snake. In the throes of passion he kicked out and somehow managed to startle the cat, how screeched in affront and darted away. At the crucial moment it seemed. My friend released a jet of man-custard across the room, spraying a line of pearly white jizz across the cat's flank. The cat howled in impotent rage and dissappeared out the back door. Then my friend had to catch the cat, and wash it before his parents came home.
(weirzbowski, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 3:20, Reply)

Clicquot was my first rat.
I loved her dearly and she loved me -- none of my other rats have been as ace. She was always happy to see me and we enjoyed each other's company.

Clicquot danced when she was happy. If I gave her a nice piece of food, she'd run around with it for a while, then sit down and eat it, then resume running and jumping around as if in victory. If I gave her a prawn (her favourite treat) she'd dance for about ten minutes, then be absolutely cream crackered from the exertion and go to sleep for a few hours.

You know those little birds that hop around in a crocodile's mouth, picking its teeth clean, in return for which the croc lets them do it and doesn't eat them? Clicquot used to lick my braces clean for me.

She used to climb up my face onto my head when she wanted a better vantage point, and she'd jump into my shirtsleeves and run around inside my shirt. She thought it was a great adventure playground. She especially liked it when I linked my sweatshirt arms together so she could walk straight into one to the other.

When we'd finished a meal I'd get her out of her cage and let her run around on the table licking all the plates clean (my mum only tolerated this because we had a dishwasher). She loved being given yoghurt lids to lick clean too. She liked yoghurt - when I gave her a yoghurt-flavoured rat treat she'd lick her whiskers afterwards in a very endearing manner.

I miss you, Clicquot. I cried bucketfuls when you had to be put to sleep.
( Bob Todd whee, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 2:49, Reply)

How to get tar off of a cat
My friend and I were about to go out for a bit of shopping when we saw a pitiful face through the screen door. Her cat, Tigo, had apparently gotten up on a neighbor's freshly-tarred roof and ended up with patches of sticky tar all over his belly, legs and...er, tomcat bits. We took poor Tigo into the bathroom and gave him a bath with shampoo, dishwashing soap, anything we could think of. The first bath worked a little bit. Small clumps came off in the wash but not enough. We bathed him again while the cat howled in protest. I'm sure he thought it was punishment or we were going to waterboard him or something. The other cats watched from the doorway, probably thinking the same thing. Still, after 3 or more baths, there was still a lot of tar left on the cat. So she called the vet. He told us to use suntan oil -- not lotion but oil-- to break up the tar. Luckily, she happened to have a bottle of the stuff from a long-ago vacation and lo, it worked. The tar turned oily and washed right away. And Tigo was the softest kitty in the world after that. Like cashmere.
(vkacademy has made a kitten tank, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 2:35, Reply)

Sprite- the cat who pees like a man
We had a kitten named Sprite who had more personality than some people I know. He never got the memo that he was a cat, he figured he was just a short human. The proof of this is this:
Whe he went to the litter box to take a poo, he did all the normal cat routine. But when he took a pee, he stood up on his hind legs and with one paw against the wall to support himself, he would pee standing up. Apparently, he'd seen my husband doing this and just figured that was how it was done.
I have a photo of this somewhere, I'll add it in if I can find it.
(AprilFoolKitten, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 2:02, Reply)

Kitty!
When I was younger, my family came into possession of a rather dim-witted cat. One day ants tried to build a nest in our box of cat food, so we put it out on the back porch.

Few minutes later, along comes the cat and it sees the box. Of course - since it's cat food and all - there's a picture of a cat on it. The cat stops, looks at it... puffs up, growls... tiptoes closer and hisses. It took about five minutes for it to creep up close enough to bump its whiskers on the box, at which point it jumped a foot and then wandered off looking rather sheepish.


Another cat we had was a large gnarly tom that had been through hurricane Iniki. He was pretty mean and aggressive but had THE most pitiful meow. Cat fights were hilarious because he would let out a squeaky little "mew" while the other cat gave its most threatening growl. Hence the name "Fifi."

Fifi used to catch lizards all the time and bring them into the house, so one day my mom took the lizard away from him, doused it in Tabasco sauce, and let him have it. After some sneezing, panting, and a crapload of drinking he disappeared, only to return with another lizard which he dropped at my mother's feet.

He went missing a year later, we always joked he ran away to live in Mexico. Probably just got eaten by a wild dog. :'(
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 1:31, Reply)

Hohner, The Magnificent
For two years, I had this big ball of orange and white fluff with claws that I named Hohner. He was found as a stray, so he was kind of skittish and immediately ran underneath my clawfoot bathtub (his favorite hiding place) at the mere sound of almost anything outside my apartment...other than that, he was one of the sweetest cats that I've ever owned. He had a few annoying habits:

-- He loved to chew on shoelaces, no matter how dirty and skanky they were...I had to eventually put all of my shoes in my closet to keep him from chewing all my shoelaces to shreds.

-- Every morning he'd wolf down his breakfast, then proceed to throw up all over the carpet. His favorite place to puke? Underneath my bed. I have one of those retractable beds on wheels that goes into the wall, so there's this big space in the wall where the bed slides in...thankfully, Hohner never threw up all the way in the back of the crawlspace, always on the carpet directly under my bed.

-- Whenever he had to go pee in his litterbox, he always covered up his business with a couple quick swipes of his paw and walked away. When he took a poo, however, it was a whole different story--it was as if he tried to dig beyond the cat litter and his litterbox in order to cover up his crap, and in doing so covered my entire bathroom floor with litter. He'd be in there for what seemed like hours, making sure that his poo was totally covered up.

Then, there was the awesome stuff:

-- He "trained" me how to pet him--if I were in the midst of a skritching session and I stopped petting him, he'd headbutt my hand as if to say "hey, you're not done yet! gimme MORE skritches!!!"

-- During the summer, my apartment's like an Easy-Bake oven due to the fact that the place has no central air and I've no air conditioning unit...like all cats, Hohner hated getting wet, with the exception of getting rubbed with an ice cube along his back. He came to love me doing that so much, every time I went to the fridge just to get a drink of something he'd sit down beside me, look up at the freezer door and meow at me like, "Get me one of those cold things you rub on me!"

Unfortunately I had to give Hohner up for adoption because the rent was raised on my apartment recently. On one hand I miss his company...on the other hand, I do not miss cleaning copious amounts of cat puke and hairballs every 15 minutes.


As for the length? Hohner took up half the space in my bed at night, the gigantic bastard...he never apologized for that, and neither will I. *snickers*
( svnynne damn near forgot she was here on, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 1:21, Reply)

fook cats
i lost my best friend october last year she was a better judge of character than me she hated the ex wife from the day she sett her eyes on her if i could have spoken canine it would have saved me a lot of heartache and financal ruin. one day i will see my love again
(hello mr wolf, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 1:21, Reply)

Too hot for Kitty to handle
My sisters cat Charlee is a cheeky little bugger. He enjoys nicking food off your plate when you aren't looking. Here's 2 quick stories:

1) Boxing Day. My sister finds Charlee eating a sausage with Toad in the Hole batter on it. They were eating Turkey leftovers that day. One her poor neighbours must be wondering where his lunch went

2) My sister ordered a curry with a "pretty name". Turned out the sauce was a bit too hot for her but the meat was ok so she scavanged what she could from her meal.
When she had finished she went back into the kitchen only to find the curry dish licked cleaned and Charlee standing by his water bowl drinking rather quickly occasionally stopping to breath out very heavily as if trying to cool his poor little tounge. Ahh bless the little greedy sod :)
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 1:02, Reply)

Psycho Intruder Cat
A pearoast, but hey.

I used to live in a first floor flat, with my wife & 2 cats. We had a cat flap in the kitchen window at work-surface level, so the cats could get in & out via a sloping roof outside the window.

I found out that an unneutered tom cat was entering the cat flap and filling his face from our cats' bowls, then pissing high-stink tom cat piss around the place just so we knew he'd paid a visit.

I resolved to ambush this cat to 'teach it a lesson'. This was the plan - One night, set the cat flap to 'in only', then wait up for said tom. Catch him in the kitchen, grab him by the scruff of the neck and eject him via the front door. That'll show him.

So, one night I flicked the catch on the cat flap so he couldn't get out, and went to bed. I sat up in my dressing gown reading a book, with our 2 cats asleep on my feet (keeps them nice & warm).

I dozed off.

Around 1am I awoke and realised that the faint creak of the cat flap had aroused me. Our 2 cats were still at the end of the bed, but looking alertly toward the door. Clearly the perpetrator had arrived! Time to show him who's boss.

I trod oh-so-quietly to the kitchen, but that wasn't really necessary as there was tom slamming food down his neck as fast as he could and making an unbelievable racket as he did so, easilly enough noise to cover my approach. Sounded more like a herd of pigs at the trough. Anyway, he became aware of my presence and bolted for the cat flap, leaving a trail of cat food, that he'd crammed into his face but hadn't had time to swallow, across the kitchen floor. Doink! Cat flap doesn't open. Panic-stricken tom cat is lying on his side frantically scrabbling at the cat flap, his little paws a blur. 'Got you now!' I exclaimed triumphantly and seized him by the scruff of the neck in a vice-like grip, just as planned.

>BIG MISTAKE<

I might as well have not had hold of him at all, as in an instant he turned in my grip, sank his teeth into my hand and then raked my arms, neck, face & chest with his claws, at the same time managing to motor up and down the work-surface knocking glass jars full of pasta and assorted other breakables to the floor. This was accompanied by the most incredible caterwauling. I was now wondering what the hell to do, as if he could do me this much damage with me holding him down, what the fuck was he going to do unfettered? I decided to cut my losses and hurled him out of the kitchen into the hallway, whereupon I heard him thunder down the stairs and THUNK into the front door. My wife is shouting 'What the fuck is going on?' Me: 'Just stay where you are, there's a bloody mental case cat loose in here'

Then he came back up and did a tour of the flat at about 75mph while I'm scrabbling frantically to open the cat flap so he can get out, but there's blood all over my fingers and I couldn't get a grip on the little plastic tab thing. I finally got it open by banging it with a spatula, and just in time as the maniac cat comes back in the kitchen and BAM out through the cat flap.

Did the trick. Never saw that cat again.

I've still got the scars.
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 1:02, Reply)

Boris
Boris was a bengal cat I had and I will never forget the classic Boris moments.

1) My mum picking him up and hugging him where he promptly let out a long, squeaky fart. 'PHRRRRRRRRRRRRP!'

2) Before he was castrated he used to not only try to shag his sister but also my mum, whilst reading the newspaper realised in horror he was having a go at her leg as well.

3) Pissing up pretty much anything he didn't like the look of even after having his nuts off. The wall, the blinds, the breadbin (making the ryvita pretty much uneatable), the VHS recorder and the microwave being just a few.

4) Ganging up on his sister Bonnie who we still have, with one of our other cats Mr Spike. She'd come trotting down the garden and all of a sudden they'd come flying at her from both sides. No wonder she never came in much.

Boris was sadly run over at the age of 6 this year and me and my mum were utterly heartbroken. He was a loud, fat, lazy get but he really kicked ass and Spike still misses him today. He just can't beat the crap out of Bonnie on his own.

Apologies for length but Boris was the man/cat.
(chakaflange, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 0:56, Reply)

cat death - lol
Imagine, Partets go away, shopping arrived (crisps, larger and more larger) mates arrive and pizza on the way....
Many beers later and pizza delivery imminent I hear a knock at the door. Stumbling to get up I think "yay pizza here" only to find some guy who lives near there... "you own a black cat" he askes. Now nothing to hide but my cat did steal sealed packs of cheese and food from people and bring it back (once he got half a cooked chicken home!) I was hesitent to reply incause this was the case but then the words "its dead round the back appeared"... Sadly I pick the dead cat up and loosly cover it and just getting home when the pizza turns up... "yes its a dead cat" i reply which was bad enough but when two VERY drunk people try to bury a stiff cat in a very hot summer when the ground is mostly clay.... now thats comedy. Being able to dig a small hole and pushing the dead, stiff thing into a tiny hole somehow was bloody funny...

Funny at the time but prob crap to read.
(DarkSavior, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 0:26, Reply)

gone baby, long gone
When Mrs Flipper MKI moved out some years ago, she left a load of stuff in the house, while she stayed with her sister and tried to find a house to rent ...

Included in 'stuff' was Sally, her border collie and apparently I was expected to look after the flea ridden horror until she could find a suitable house.

Bugger that .. 1 week after she moved out I had the poxy thing put to sleep. For some inexplicable reason, she never spoke to me again after she found out. Weird that.
(flipper is going to die in a bizarre gardenning accident, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 0:23, Reply)

Picky? Not Him.
Our Tristan(aka 'Pinky' because of his bubblegum pink nose) is the anti-finicky eater. He's a shelter rescue, like all of our cats, and his time as a stray apparently introduced some interesting foods into his diet.

Among the foods he eats are:

tortillas - chips - crisps - courgettes - popcorn - biscuits - scones - collard greens - cornbread - tofu - soy 'meat' of any and every kind(goes nuts for it) - shrimps and scallops(but not oysters) - potatoes - matzo balls - butter - quiche - mushrooms - sprouts - cheese, especially goat's cheese - and, of course, cat food both wet and dry.

When offered any of these foods on a fork, he delicately takes the bite without his mouth ever touching the tines. It's such a charming little trick that he always gets a few bites of what he wants at every meal.

Perhaps the most surprising thing is that he eats all of this when he can get it and it perfectly healthy and of average size.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Sat 9 Jun 2007, 0:18, Reply)

presents
well one day me and my friend were taking my little dog for a walk
and we were just chatting and walking
along when she suddenly screamed and ran out across the road.
i shouted over and asked her what was wrong and she just said "RAT!"

so i looked down only to see my little dog is carrying a huge dead rat
in his mouth and wagging his tail.
he kept trying to drop it on my feet.
so i was backing away telling him to drop it and he's wagging his
tail all pleased with himself.

he eventually dropped the rat but as we tried to walk off he picked it
up again. it was clear that he wasn't going anywhere without it.so i set off walking home
with a tiny dog carrying a huge dead rat.

when we did get home he left it just outside the door.

a week later he did the same thing with a duck.
(i eat crayons, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 23:49, Reply)

Christine
is an evil bitch. My mother got her as a young abandoned kitten from a police officer in Atlanta while on a business trip. As there were no pets allowed in her hotel, she had to shove the tiny thing into her purse to sneak it in. In an elevator full of crowded people. "Mew? Mew? Meeeew." Very confused people.

Anyhow, she was brought home eventually. My dad was pissed off, but 7-year-old me was jubilant. Until she shat on me the first time I tried to bottle-feed her. But I'm over that now. She's now ten years old and a horrible manipulative bitch of a cat.

Refuses to eat from the food bowl if she's able to see the bottom of it. Will only drink water out of a cup. If you ignore her, she'll beat the shit out of you. Hates the other cats (and sticks) with a white-hot passion. I wub her though. Here be a pic:

Clicky for big/cuteness.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 23:47, Reply)

Semi-feral
We used to have a cat that was born to a feral father and a an almost-as-feral mother (farm cats are strange things).

These are some of the strange things that he did (he was a black streak of lightning with a white spot on the forehead):

- Caught bush rats as big as himself and ate them whole while growling at anyone who came near, though purring the entire time otherwise. His stomach became fully distended and it touched the ground before his paws did. He would then sleep off his meal in the laundry basket. Oh, and he ate them head-first, much like a boa-constrictor. I don't know how he managed not to gag.

- We called him "Peter Parker" (spiderman's alter-ego) because he could climb anything

- He would bite and scratch you if you petted him anywhere. A fun sport would be to scratch his stomach while he bit you to show how hard you were.

- He would play 'ninja cat' with the dog by lying in wait in the grass then coming flying out with paws extended in 'boxer kitty' mode.

- 'Ninja cat' also claimed human lives as he would lie in wait for us and jump on our heads.

- He died fighting a snake.

This was one hard-ass cat, and we loved him. RIP Peter :(
(satellite blows, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 23:15, Reply)

Sweetcorn the perpetually confused
Myself and the ex were given a kitten. No idea why, her Mum bought the thing for us. Then again, loopiness always did run in that family. Like attracts like, so they say. Anyway, back to this kitten. The cutest little black ball of fluff you ever did see. I called it Sweetcorn after it went and put its head in a cup of chicken and sweetcorn soup, and got it stuck. Poor thing looked very confused. However, the confusion for the poor little mite didn't stop there. I woke up to find the little blighter firmly clamped to my nipple, trying like buggery to get some milk out of me. Silly thing. Mind you, it doesn't end there. I calmly detached her, and then attached her to my ex's nipple instead. It seemed appropriate somehow.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 8 Jun 2007, 22:58, Reply)