One that doen't involve pissing the bed ...
I know, I know .. all the other stories seem to involve pissing in the bed ... just to be different heres one that doesn't and it happened over ten years ago when I was a Bad Man (tm) .. I'm not so mean anymore, honest.


Whilst at uni, I had a fairly great time, getting through the usual number of steamy student relationships.

One girl was an absolute stunner, good in the sack too. Except for one thing. Her bloody cat. I swear she thought more for that thing than any living being. Its a little offputting when you are just getting onto the vinegar strokes and the cat arrives on the bed and walks across the pillow. Or when you are doing your best to please your lady friend and the thing begins making a fuss and she gets up to feed the dirtbag.

Anyway, one day after a particularly great meal with a little too much wine, we ended up shagging in the bath, and then going to sleep naked on the bed. The dirtball cat waited until I had dozed off and then leapt on, using my buttocks as a landing pad, digging its claws in.

Bastard cat. I got up, shoved the thing into the shower and turned it on cold. It was winter, so the water was a bit chilly. My plan was honestly to just teach the thing a lesson. I closed the bathroom door and went back to bed. It seems several hours of cold water was too much for it. It fell over and was in a bit of a state by the time she found it.

Next morning of course, she was horrified. This is where my survival plan kicked in .. to blame it on her sleep-walking. It came to me in an instant and was a sure-fire winner. "Oh my god! I do remember you getting up in the night and doing something with the cat." I lied .. "I sort of remember seeing you and you got up and went to the bathroom, then you came back to bed ... but I've seen you sleep walking before" I said.

Thus began a tedious day of drying the thing out, wrapping it up and taking it to the vet. It seems cats are quite resilient and it survived. Worse was to follow, she now spent even more attention on the fleabag, trying to make up for what she'd had done to it.

Oh dear, the plan has backfired.

Poor sod spent the next month trying to get over it ... in the end I had enough and dumped her, she didn;t seem that upset either. Bit of a kick in the nuts, but there you go. I did eventually confess to what I had done, about a year later and she went ape-shit. Understandable really.
(flipper is going to die in a bizarre gardenning accident, Tue 28 Aug 2007, 0:04, Reply)