Tell us about your cat. Here's a few ideas to get you started... What are some things that your cat does that amuses you? What unusual things does your cat do? Tell us a funny story about your cat. What has your cat taught you about cats?
I dont currently have a cat but the last cat I had once claimed my artificial Christmas tree as her own. She would hide in the branches and attack my hand anytime I came near. I couldn't take it down until February. what she taught me about cats is cats are little bitches.
my cat doesn't have a name.....when i call him for feeding i stand on the porch and meow.....i know in seconds if he heard me......he disappeared in mid December and reappeared about a month ago...a grey tabby.... i am as indifferent to him as he is to me
After her divorce we took in sister in law's cat. He would masturbate like clock work at 7 AM and 7 PM. Because he was deaf he was really loud. We couldn't have people over at those times. Bonus points for using her ex husband's sweater.
Cats are great. they come in all colors.....some are big...some are not...they are playful....they know how you think and feel about them and will respond accordingly.....i never met a cat i did not like. I have a few that seem to read my mind. I think they have a sixth sense about things.
My cat loves to wrestle. I have an old ski glove (was new at first), that he's been attacking for years now. I'm amazed it's held up this long. The right hand glove was trashed a couple of years ago by him. So I put on the glove and and hold it above him. He'll attack it with his teeth, claws and back paws, while I turn him in circles. I try to tickle him with it and he get real vicious, biting hard. Fortunately the glove is very thick and he's never harmed me. He also avoids attacking my arm, focusing only on the glove. I don't even get scratched. I have to do this at least once a day, sometimes twice, otherwise he'll prompt me by attacking my foot or running around the house. Oh and after our little fight, he insists that I chase him thru the house for another 5 minutes or so. I consider this typical cat play. They say you must exercise your cat for 15 minutes a day (at least). I'd love to post up a youtube video of him doing this as I've never seen anyone do this before with their cat, although I'm sure someone's thought of it b4. I find it gives me a sense of what it's like being in a real cat fight, and informs me quite clearly just how powerful (and dangerous) a small cat can be. You really don't want to mess with one without protection!
Hello. Please post a video of your cat playing with your glove hand. It would be fun to see. My cat, Finnegan, does that to me without a glove on...he does not care if he turns my hand into chop meat or not when he is in a mood, and I happen to innocently go to pet him....He is one viscious cat when he wants to be.......that Finnegan of mine.....He is a tiger cat with the most beautiful melon green eyes, but he is kind of fat these days, as he loves to eat Evo hard food and bugs me all day until i give him some.....and that puts the weight on cats, but that is all he wants to eat these days.....Finnegan is 11 years old now. There is Spanky, my orange and white cat, who is the social butterfly and makes friends with everyone. If you are outside, he follows behind like a dog wherever you want to go. He is 12 years old and still as playful as the day i got him 12 years ago...looks pretty much the same, too. He sleeps on top of me all night...sometimes, it is not so comfortable, so I nudge him off....but he always comes back after I fall asleep again.....He is very affectionate...rubs his paw in my head...that feels good and licks my face....and will give love anytime and play like a kitten anytime, too. All he needs is the word. He is always a very happy cat....never in a bad mood..... Then I have Minxy Mau...my little sweetheart...I am crazy about her. She is two years old and had all of her teeth removed from stomatitis, but it does not stop her. She is a light beam...that gets into everything...opens up any cabinets or doors that can be opened...I come down to find all of the cabinet doors opened in the kitchen sometimes, and there are alot of them...sometimes she just keeps banging one open and closed over and over again making weird noises in the night time....she knocks things off of counters and tables....can jump to the highest pieces of furniture here...gets into the curio cabinet of mine, and I am afraid she is going to knock all of my glassware out of there, some day, so I am always scolding her. She is everywhere at once and she never misses me blink an eye or anyone blink an eye....and she is such a little love........that is so sweet and lovable...Here are two photos of her today. I took these earlier....See how cute she is.... I will try to come back at some point with photos of the other 2 cats, too....I love them all so much.
Oh, cool...just grabbed some photos of Finney hanging out here......He kept closing his eyes to the flash so the close up is without flash and why it is not very clear....Spanky and Minxy in the window and without flash fuzzy photo of Spanky...First two photos are Finnegan....
Skip, I totally understand your cat. I had one that would attack my feet all the time, but only if I had socks or shoes on, never the bare feet. Unfortunately, just socks are not enough to protect you from those sharp claws. I have one cat now that is a biter. I will come up and cuddle for a bit, demanding to be petted. Then he suddenly decides that he needs to bite the hand that pets him. I've bit him back a couple of times, when he has chomped down a little too hard. I love him to pieces. Of all the cats that we've had, they all have their own unique personalities. Some are just little jerks most of the time, getting into everything, some have been super sweet and loving (some are annoyingly so). Uh oh, I just heard a bit of a cat fight outside, one screech. LOL One of the more interesting ones I've had was Mitzi. He was more like a puppy than a cat. He'd follow me everywhere around the house, and insisted that he be carried in a very specific fashion. He had to oversee everything that I did. Including any food that I ate. He was get quite upset if I didn't let him sniff my food, and give me a dirty look if he did sniff it and didn't like it. Carrots are a particular favourite of mine, be he had a strong dislike for them. But he still had to check them every time. We nearly lost him about two years ago, when he somehow broke his sternum. The vet had never seen it before. I figure he was up one of the power poles, and tried to sniff at something and slipped off. He was in the vet for almost a week while we tried to figure out what was wrong with him. We also discovered who was responsible for some inappropriate behaviours, it seems that he was bullying the other cats in the house. The bad behaviours stopped until he had almost fully recovered. Curiosity finally killed him about a year and a half ago, just after Christmas. I think he decided to try something that he shouldn't have. We rushed him to the vet, but he didn't make it. Never did find out what actually killed him, nor how he had broke his sternum previously. Right now, we have three kittens in the house, and about eight or ten outside. (I've never gotten a good count, it started at six, then everytime I checked, there was one or two more. Mitosis?) They are all so sweet.
Back in the dinosaur days my future wife and I went on a back packing trip on the Appalachian Trail. I think I was about 23 and she was 18. On the third day we found four new born kittens someone had dumped along the road by the Potomac river, luckily their eyes were just opening so they were old enough to survive. Since we couldn't leave them we stuck one in each of our two top pack pockets and continued on. We had nothing to feed them but bread crusts soaked in dry milk so they all got the shits in the pack pockets, which was a real mess. At night we slept in a tube tent which is a piece of plastic in the shape of a triangular tube, open at both ends with a rope strung through the middle and tied to two trees to hold it up. We'd close the ends with spring clothespins so they couldn't get out. We still had them by the time we hit the Shenandoahs and we had become known as "the cat people". We were going south and the north bound pilgrims would get word of us ahead of time. Through the tight spots in the Shenandoahs we would hold one in each hand for some reason... I think they were getting to the point where they kept trying to climb out of the pockets. It was really hard to climb over boulders with a sleeping kitten in each hand and no way to hold on to anything. After about a week some women we met on the trail took two, so that left us with two. We named one A T, for the trail, and the other Zorro because he was black. After another week a ranger took A T. After about four weeks my wife had enough so we bought bus tickets back to the Burg and jumped on with Zorro. Then the driver told us we couldn't have animals on the bus so we had better think of something. We hopped off and found a little store and all we could find to hide the kitten in was a little insulated thermos bag. So we crammed him in, zipped it up, and jumped back on the bus. The driver just looked at us, but didn't say a word. We sat in the back for a six or eight hour ride, I don't remember, and unzipped the bag every now and again so the poor little guy could breath. Had that cat for many years. A very nice guy...he got pretty big and fat by the way.
And then we had this orange cat that adopted us. He'd hang around the sliding door so my soft hearted wife started feeding him. He lived outside for awhile so we called him O.C., for outside cat. Eventually he wormed his way indoors so we changed his name to O.C., for orange cat. He was prefixed on arrival so we figured he got lost or something until we realized he had been sent packing with his little kitty bags from his previous owner's house because he was such a pain in the rear. He didn't have the bags when he arrived, so we figured he had hocked them for catnip somewhere along the way. We then changed his name to O.C., for obnoxious cat. So anyway to lengthen an already boring story.... We moved to the deep country and bought an old farm house to fix up. One day we came home and found old O.C. laying at the bottom of the basement steps, stiff as a board. I know it's a cliche', but he was stiff as a board. His eyes were rolled back, tongue hanging out, rapid breathing...he was in bad shape. So we immediately panicked, picked him up and flew off to the country vet. Now this was about a forty five minute drive out to the mountain top to see Vickie the Vet. Vickie was a strange one. You had to drive around all these James Harriot type country roads. Up valleys, along ridges, winding two lane tar and chip and finally this long dirt driveway to the Vet's. Except when you got there you didn't get James Harriot, you got Vickie. Vickie's office was in the basement of her double wide, her daughter and mother-in-law helped her out and usually ran around the office in bare feet. Sometimes aid would be administered in the "waiting room". Your dog need a shot? Wait here. She swore like a truck driver and pulled no punches. One time when we were there a guy called about getting his horse euthanized. Her response was that a bullet was cheaper and she wasn't driving all that way anyway unless the hole was already dug. So in we burst with this stiff cat, like a board as I said and my wife is crying and wailing and carrying on. She lays him down on the table and he's out of it, totally wasted and Vickie says "Looks like some kind of poison." So she pokes about a bit and goes to get her little dog, Fideo, or whatever the F his name was. And she holds him up to the cat and he sniffs around a little bit then she tosses him back down onto the floor. Then she turns to us and says "He'll be alright, if the dog looked away he'd die but since he smelled him, he'll be fine." So we say...o...kay. What is it? And she says "How the hell do I know, he got into something probably". Then she jams a needle filled with relaxo juice into him as my wife is holding him... whereupon he immediately wakes up whips his head around and latches onto my wife's hand. All four fangs embedded into the meat between the thumb and forefinger...then he goes stiff again. With his mouth closed. And blood is squirting everywhere and my wife is screaming ahhh, ahhh, ahhh! So we pry his mouth open and extract her hand. The vet patches up my wife's hand and tells her she might want to have that looked at, give the cat forty eight hours, that'll be twenty bucks, no charge for the hand. Back at home we put O.C. on a towel in the bath tub as both ends seem to be leaking various fluids, still stiff as a board, and we head to the E Room for my wife. They clean out her hand and say, you know cat bites can be nasty. "Oh really?" we say. Returning to the bath tub O.C. is still out of it, he can't see, his eyes are dilated to the max, he can't hear, and he can't move. Twenty four hours later, no change. Eight more hours, same. So my wife knows he's going to die...he's going to die, die, he's going to die..still stiff as a board. She can't stand it, so she calls Vickie up and carefully explains that he's going to die so we need to euthanize him, and Vickie says, "I said forty eight hours!" and hangs up. So we wait, and lo and behold at precisely the forty eight hour mark he starts to stir. It was a feeble stirring, but he stirred and over the next week he gradually improved until he could drag himself around by his front legs, then he started using his back ones again. After about a month he could walk pretty well except that he'd loose his balance now and again and roll down the hill. (I swear we never laughed at him, that would be mean). After about a year he was just about back to normal. We never did figure out what got him, but eventually he returned to his old obnoxious self and I almost had to strangle him. Just kidding he passed on peacefully a few years ago. Oh I almost forgot the society for being good to animals or somebody were notified by the hospital so they did call us up and demand to know if we had the cat checked for rabies and so on, and how do we know this and that, and blah blah blah and my wife got pissed and said "It's our house cat Jesus H. F--k, buzz off and leave us alone." And apparently they knew about my wife, so they did.
Late last century lived in a third floor apartment, had a cat that used to get in and out of the bathroom window, basically just via a series of drain pipes and ledges, he was a supercat. Did this all the time, one slip and he would have been fucked. Strangely enough he died of old age much later on
One of my relatives got hold of two male cats from the same litter. They were brothers, so they named them Tommy and Dickie, after Tom and Dick Smothers, the Smothers Brothers folk singers and comedians. Some how, (I think my wife was involved), we ended up with one of them. We didn't get Tommy, we got Dickie. Now, in our household we let the cats out in the morning and make them come back into the house at night. Sort of reverse from the rest of the world who put the cat out at night. This is due to my wife having originated on the planet Bizzarro. So every night she would go to the back door and call for Dickie to come in. Like, "Here Dickie, Dickie, Dickie!" "Come on Dickie, Mommy loves you, here Dickie, Dickie, Dickie!" We lived in the suburbs.... it didn't take long for the neighborhood kids to start answering her. "Hey lady, I got your dickie right here!" "Come and get it!" And so on. I wouldn't call for him. Never bothered her though. Bizarre.
