The cat tales thread

[SlickTony]

We found plenty of indications of his last fight. (That den was wiped out soon after his demise.) I think Max took an Honor Guard with him.

Cat

Good for Max!

Our cats are all bed cats. It took Il Grigio a while to convert--for a long time he was afraid of the second floor, wouldn't come up there and if you brought him he ran downstairs immediately, but then he became a bed cat, too. However, he prefers to stay downstairs during the summer. He won't hang with us at night until the weather changes.

 

[SweetWitch]

Is any cat totally sane?

No, but neither was Aunt Lo.

 

[starrkers]

Right now, I'm working on the laptop, sitting on the main bed in the caravan. I'm sharing it with three cats - Juliet (of course, she lives here permanently), Randall and Pantene (it really must be horrible outside!). Harry and Billy are on the kids' beds at the other end of the van.

 

[Guest]

When I started on Lit we had six cats. We've lost five during the past six years and gained another five. Strange how that works out.

We've lost Jenny - gorgeous calico, to medical complications due to hyperthyroid (she was 15)
Ski - sweet white boy kitty, frailty due to age (he was 17)
Macavity - big black furry ox, pulmonary issues (he was 14 - put to sleep)
Taz - gorgeous silver and black tabby, we think bladder cancer (she was 14 - put to sleep)
and most lately my Jonesey - he was 17, he just couldn't recover after being so thin from a previous illness. This one still really hurts.

We have - one old boy left from the original six - Ski's son, he's now 17, big white cat named Ski Jr. (Eej)
And a bunch of rescued strays.
Midnight - black kitty, tiny feet and features, bowling ball tummy because she bred so early outside, she's adopted our son, watches over him at night until he falls asleep, sits next to him when he plays computer, she's a love
Chewie - her son - huge black powerhouse, loves everyone
Blackie - her son - sleek black and sweetly neurotic, belongs to daughter
Kiwi - her daughter by second litter (by the time we rescued Midnight she was preggers again). Kiwi is a lovely black and silver tabby, belongs to hubby
And our newest kitty - another rescued love, is Pixie. Sweet little minx, white with tabby markings, she has adopted me.

All of our cats are lap sitters. All are affectionate. All talk to us, carry on conversations, especially when we arrive home.

The only issue we have right now is that Kiwi does not like Pixie. Angry times. Chases her, tries to beat her up.

It's getting better, and once we get Pixie spayed I think it will get better still. But right now we've fixed a terrific place in the kitchen for Pixie - she's kitchen cat.

She has a house up on a counter in the corner, access to a window sill, she can take food and water up there, a litter box very close. She still wanders the house, checks things out, is getting bolder, and once she gets big enough she's going to have to truly engage Kiwi. Then maybe that will end.

Can't imagine a house without a cat.

 

[JagFarlane]

Prior to the ones described before, the ones that were around when I grew up:

Spooky: Stray that more or less adopted us

Nutmeg: We think she was part of a litter of Spookys', sweetheart cat that I'm not sure where she went

Sage: Funny lil story about this one. Spooky gave birth to a litter of two kittens, a male and a female. The male we adopted out to a friend, the female we kept for ourselves. While Sage initially was supposed to be more moms, she didn't want any of that. And very well proved it during the divorce. She ended up being given to my father, to whom she became very much attracted to, to the point that at nights, we had to find her and take her out of his room, otherwise she had a habit of waking him in the morning with slightly overweight large kitty on his chest.

 

[SeaCat]

I got home from picking up the wife at work and was greeted by a very unhappy sounding kitty. Smokey was in her usual place on the fridge but was acting funny. When I came over she backed away as though afraid of me, I didn't like that in the least. Then I looked and found the reason, she had deposited a furball on top of the fridge.

No big deal, cats do this from time to time. I grabbed the paper towels and cleaned up the mess. Once I was done getting rid of the offensive mess I came back to the fridge and reaching to the back where she was crouching I gave her a scratch.

Smokey responded by rubbing her head against my hand and after grabbing a beer I wandered over to the computer. ABout ten minutes later I felt a cat very stealthily crawl into my lap. Looking down I was surprised to find Smokey curled up there. Now this is rare, she is a very nervous cat and now she was curled up in my lap purring happily as I scratched her.

Cat

 

[glynndah]

I have two indoor cats and one outside kitty. One of the indoor cats was determined to get outside so I held the door open and he inched slowly out the door onto the back deck. He spent what seemed like hours hunched down, prepared for eminent vulture attack, but determined to brave the wilderness found on the wooden 5x5 deck. I closed the door and a few minutes later heard a horrendous howling and yowling and scratching. I opened the door and the cat came tearing through the door and headed for his safe place, the inside of the box springs of my bed. Gloria, the peahen, continued to drink from her water bowl, never knowing, I guess, that she was the reason poor Slink's outdoor adventure ended so abruptly.

 

[Elianna]

This thread is probably the cutest thing I've seen on here in a while. I love reading love stories... but these are a different kind. These are the kind where we get that "warm and fuzzy" phrase.

Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how WARM our fuzzy companions are? I finally had to toss my tom off my lap just now because he was a little furnace!

 

[Guest]

This thread is probably the cutest thing I've seen on here in a while. I love reading love stories... but these are a different kind. These are the kind where we get that "warm and fuzzy" phrase.

Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how WARM our fuzzy companions are? I finally had to toss my tom off my lap just now because he was a little furnace!

Yes. Little furbags.

Here's another story.

Three of our kitties spend about half of their time outside in our enclosed cat kennel. They love it, and occasionally even manage to catch birds (!) and other critters and bring them inside via the magnetic door.

It's quite a nice cat kennel. Half of the floor is poured concrete (for kitty rolling on backs during sunny days) and half of the roof is covered (so they can actually be outside during rainstorms.)

This morning we were awakened by two wet cats. Chewie and Blackie jumped on our bed, all snuggly, with WET fur from the rainstorm!!!!

They wanted to be dried off. We obliged, grabbing the first thing available.

Then they left - to go back outside, I think. And get wet all over again.

 

[keeblercrumb]

Rocket Man

I posted this in response to an earlier cat thread.... but what the hell... Since you are collecting cat stories...

Cats. Something about the little critters. However, I am decidely undecided about the relative intelligence of the beasties....

This is the story of Victoria.

Victoria was given to us as a cute little kitten (aren't they all?) (kind of like babies before they grow into teenagers and wreck your car). I don't know why we took the kitten in... my wife never told me. Victoria was affectionate, well behaved and endlessly tolerant of my young daughters “play’ with her.

It was not long after when we took in a shell shocked miniature dachshund who was the 2 y/o offspring of a couple going through the joys of separation and divorce.

I was home sick the day Gretel (what else?) arrived. She was so traumatized from having been left alone for long periods everyday and detached from her “family”, that she curled up in my lap and shivered all day. From that moment on, Gretel was "my" dog.

But this is Victoria's story. Gretel lived to be 18 and that story is too long to tell here.

Being responsible pet owners, we had Gretel spayed (that is the one for bitches, isn't it?). We were planning on doing the same for Victoria, of course, but in the process of waiting for her to be of age, the adolescent little slut got herself in the family way.

The entirely too self-assured old tom cat across the street was the most likely father but this was before DNA testing was sufficiently advanced to clearly establish paternity. The yellow kittens looked like him, however, discounting a couple which, for that most part, reflected Victoria luxuriant all black coat.

In the excitement of having kittens, which all but one male of which were quickly given to new homes, we delayed getting Victoria fixed and the "Harlot of Charlotte" was promptly knocked up yet again. And yet again, more kittens, more homes found, including the remaining offspring of the first litter.

But not before he (the remaining offspring, whose name I have intentionally forgotten) impregnated Victoria for her third time. While I have no scientific proof of this incestuous assertion, there are several compelling pieces of circumstantial evidence:

1. The absence of the Old Tom Cat across the street who had died sometime earlier, presumably of a heart attack trying to meet young Victoria's sexual demands (a fear I currently live with everyday myself).
2. Observations by a bewildered 5 y/o daughter of the coitus un-interruptus.

and the most incriminating of all...

3. Issac. The clearly deranged result of this crime against nature.

Now.. Victoria was a great mother cat, as they all seem to be. She trained all her kittens how to use the litter box (How many dogs do that???), how to tip over the trash basket and scrounge the delicacies to be found there, etc.. But there was the Issac situation, as Quentin might say.

Issac was un-placable. Even as a young kitten, he would approach strangers and rub against their legs. When the stranger inevitably reached down to pet him, he would bite their hand. This was usually followed by "I think I will take the other one...."

Issac also developed a taste for Mrs. Brotherton. Mrs. Brotherton was the goldfish my 5 y/o daughter dutifully cared for each day. In our angst not to traumatize the poor child, we would rush down and replace Mrs. Brotherton with another gold fish every time Issac managed to dislodge the cover and have his well earned treat. My daughter never did notice the minor changes in color and size... kids and goldfish are like that.

….7 Mrs. Brothertons before I gave up counting and was leaning toward traumatizing my daughter as a life lesson or something.

And Gretel.... Issac would hide around corners and attack an unsuspecting Gretel when she came through the doorway. Dogs have this basic problem. Instinctively, they know they are not supposed to kill other members of the "pack", even the cats which are a part of the family. But they also are limited to 2 levels of violence. Kill or nothing.

Cats, on the other hand, enjoy applying endless levels of pain and suffering on their victims. Certainly Issac did. Gretel was beginning to exhibit those shaking symptoms again whenever Issac was near.

Issac had one other ingratiating habit. Despite being generously fed with all the gourmet crap Victoria had trained my wife to purchase for the cats... Issac was given to bounding onto the dinner table and begin eating off the closest plate.

Naturally, this was followed by me (no one else would get near him at this point) picking him up and providing him with bird's eye view of the kitchen followed by that annoyingly soft landing that cats are famous for.

You would think after endless repetitions of this behavior, Issac would have learned something. Instead, I am convinced he made no connection as to the cause and effect of these events and just assumed he had to suffer this occasional flight across the kitchen as the price for free room and board.

This view was perhaps reinforced by the reluctance of anybody else in the family to attempt to remove him when I was not present.

But this is Victoria's story and I am sad to say it did not have a happy ending for the "Queen Kitty". She was struck by a car in front of our house, while street walking, no doubt.

She is mourned in the family to this day.

And Issac? I will confess that for the first and only time in the long history of pets and our family, upon our moving out of State we left him with a "non-destroy" shelter. After I quickly agreed to pay for his castration (such are the small victories I treasure in my life), the Lady working there told me she was sure she would have no trouble placing such a beautiful cat.

I could only smile.
K.C.

 

[JagFarlane]

This thread is probably the cutest thing I've seen on here in a while. I love reading love stories... but these are a different kind. These are the kind where we get that "warm and fuzzy" phrase.

Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how WARM our fuzzy companions are? I finally had to toss my tom off my lap just now because he was a little furnace!

-chuckles- that was kinda the point. We needed a thread to just share nice lil stories.

Can't say I've run across too many lapcats over my time. Kalana would, on rare occasion. However, Pumpkin gave me a hell of a surprise one day. I was laying on the sofa, reading a book when I hear *THUD* and just enough time to look up before he strolled onto my chest and settled himself down, rubbing up against everything and anything.

Oh lil disclaimer: Before you say I should bell the cats, when I mention his bird hunting skills, he is belled. Damned cat still manages to catch em, so I guess he's just doing Darwins work.

 

[Guest]

Dead bird in the living room again this morning.

Fourth one in the past two weeks.

Damn Darwin birds, anyway. Why do they perch on the outside kennel?

 

[JagFarlane]

Dead bird in the living room again this morning.

Fourth one in the past two weeks.

Damn Darwin birds, anyway. Why do they perch on the outside kennel?

So only the strong survive?

 

[Guest]

So only the strong survive?

I suppose we're doing the species a favor?



(Most of the kennel is chicken wire over chain link fence, for pete's sake! How are those birds getting pulled inside?)

 

[JagFarlane]

I suppose we're doing the species a favor?



(Most of the kennel is chicken wire over chain link fence, for pete's sake! How are those birds getting pulled inside?)

-shrugs- Meh all I know is Pumpkin eats his kills. He LOVES poultry

 

[Guest]

-shrugs- Meh all I know is Pumpkin eats his kills. He LOVES poultry

My Jonesey always ate everything he caught.

The knuckleheads we have now? No clue.

Chewie loves to pluck birds, though. Everywhere.

 

[JagFarlane]

My Jonesey always ate everything he caught.

The knuckleheads we have now? No clue.

Chewie loves to pluck birds, though. Everywhere.

Kalana routinely ate the mice she caught, Ash not so much, and Pumpkin doesn't seem interested in eating mice. Though, I think as of late, the big guy has been curious how tropical fish would taste...he sure spends enough time staring at the tank

 

[Guest]

Kalana routinely ate the mice she caught, Ash not so much, and Pumpkin doesn't seem interested in eating mice. Though, I think as of late, the big guy has been curious how tropical fish would taste...he sure spends enough time staring at the tank

I do know that if kittens are not taught to eat what they kill they generally won't.

They hunt and catch and kill but then treat the corpse as a toy.

Our Chewie can toss birds realllly high.

 

[starrkers]

Pantene's a champion prey tosser. She does eat them after she breaks her toys though.

Randall likes to pluck birds, loudly, in the middle of the night beside the bed. Then he loudly feasts (shudder).

Juliet will also catch and eat mice (which surprised me, seeing as she's a pedigreed lady and all - spent her early life in a cattery).

The heffalumps? Who knows. I've seen them with "toys" but they don't bring them home.

 

[SeaCat]

Magi has decided he likes Ham. Not just any ham though, he likes ham slathered in Horse Radish Sauce.

I found this out tonight as I sat down to dinner.

I sat down and started eating when he hopped up in my lap for some loving. Before I could push him off my lap he started sniffing at the ham on my plate. That paw of his is fast, in a blur it struck out and he snagged a piece of ham and started chowing down.

Man it's a good thing I had plenty of ham, he decided he was going to share even if I didn't want to.

Now we'll see if I have to clean up a mess later tonight.

Cat

 

[Elianna]

My Jonesey always ate everything he caught.

The knuckleheads we have now? No clue.

Chewie loves to pluck birds, though. Everywhere.

My boy always brings his kills in and then gives his most ferocious "death meow."

Personally I think it sounds like the "I'm going to puke meow" but I assume my human ears are just not attuned to the uniqueness of tonality in the different meows.

It's not like my first thought when I hear either meow is.... hmmm... I wonder if that's a puke or a death cry. No. It's more like: Oh shit. The cat's making a mess. Paper towels.... go go go go go!

The treasure in the morning is always the most heartwarming gift my baby leaves for me. Being the only male in a house of bitches, he takes his responsibility very seriously. He frequently hunts only to deposit his prey for the girls in his pride to gain sustenance from his obviously superior hunting skills. He gets rather pissed at me because I get some old plastic grocery sacks, double up, pull them to my elbow, and with plastic encased hand, pull the bloody carcass off the floor hoping it's still not alive.

 

[SlickTony]

Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how WARM our fuzzy companions are? I finally had to toss my tom off my lap just now because he was a little furnace!

The internal temperature of a cat is 102 degrees.

 

[SeaCat]

I was sitting out on the patio this morning enjoying my coffee and watching the cats trying to chase the lizards just outside the screens.

Up on the roof of the patio I heard a thump then some slow scurrying. At first I ignored it as we often have squirrels up there and they are usually gone in a minute or three. AS I listened though it moved to the edge of the roof and stayed there, moving around occasionaly. Looking up in the area I was seeing a thin stick poking over the edge every now and then. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out what was happening then I started smiling.

After telling my wife my plans I slipped back inside and got my shoes. I went outside through the front door and worked my way over to the patio. Pulling on my work gloves I moved as slow and quiet as I could as I eased my way up the Palm Tree there. (Palmetto) When I was just beneath the eaves I waited until the stick moved then I struck. I stepped up another stub and reaching over the edge as I looked over it I grabbed the offender in my gloved hand. After a bit of a fight I had the creatures tail tucked under my arm while I held his head and body in my hand. Carefully now I climbed back down.

When I was on the ground I knelt by the patio door and scratched on it until the cats came over to see what I had. When they were all gathered there I lifted my catch so they could see it. I never saw the cats move, first they were there then they weren't.

After my wife came out to check out my catch I released it into the bushes away from the trailer and went back inside.

Oh the creature I had caught? How about a nice Green Iguana? It was a good sized one, maybe three feet from nose to the tip of his tail. One hint if you want to do this. Those things are fast and they are strong.

It took a while before the cats came back out onto the patio and they didn't go very far from my side.

Cat

 

[JagFarlane]

-chuckles-

One night, last year, Josh and I were outside smoking cigarettes. Kalana had more or less...disappeared, which wasn't too unusual for her, but the length of time was running on the long side. As we stood there chatting, we could hear a soft mewing coming from somewhere. After checking the garage roof and a few other spots, she was spotted in the rafters of the garage. How she got up there...phew knew that cat could jump, but it was a good sized jump even for her.

After a quick debate, it was decided I'd hop up on the table to try and rescue said kitty. As I got up there, she just laid upon a rafter, staring at me. Slowly I moved my hand upwards, taking my time, much like I'd learned to move when I learned to still hunt.

When my hand was a short distance away, I shot it out and managed to grasp the scruff of her neck. That was the easy part. See...she HATED to be held...which is why I went for the scruff. As I lifted, I had to reach up and pry claws from the wood of the rafter, which then went into my forearm.

Kitty held on for dear life until I was able to pass her off to Josh, whom wrapped her up in a rag to protect himself, then took her inside. As I came in, arm all scratched up, a little blood on it, she just looked up at me with a meow, a smiling face, and jumped upon her favorite chair, in hopes of some attention.

Durned cats...

 

[SeaCat]

-chuckles-

One night, last year, Josh and I were outside smoking cigarettes. Kalana had more or less...disappeared, which wasn't too unusual for her, but the length of time was running on the long side. As we stood there chatting, we could hear a soft mewing coming from somewhere. After checking the garage roof and a few other spots, she was spotted in the rafters of the garage. How she got up there...phew knew that cat could jump, but it was a good sized jump even for her.

After a quick debate, it was decided I'd hop up on the table to try and rescue said kitty. As I got up there, she just laid upon a rafter, staring at me. Slowly I moved my hand upwards, taking my time, much like I'd learned to move when I learned to still hunt.

When my hand was a short distance away, I shot it out and managed to grasp the scruff of her neck. That was the easy part. See...she HATED to be held...which is why I went for the scruff. As I lifted, I had to reach up and pry claws from the wood of the rafter, which then went into my forearm.

Kitty held on for dear life until I was able to pass her off to Josh, whom wrapped her up in a rag to protect himself, then took her inside. As I came in, arm all scratched up, a little blood on it, she just looked up at me with a meow, a smiling face, and jumped upon her favorite chair, in hopes of some attention.

Durned cats...

Man does that sound familiar.

Catching cats that don't want to be caught is an art. A painful art but an art nonetheless.

When I lived on Cape there was a cat that got stuck in a storm drain. Everytime the owners or the fire department would reach into the drain she would attack. She was scared and reacting normally for a scared cat. I came wandering out and watched the festivities for a bit. They tried everything but couldn't catch the cat. Finally I got tired of the games. The cat was sounding more and more desperate and they were talking about setting traps or using darts. I walked over and told them all to move back.

I lay down and reached into the drain. I didn't move much, I just rubbed my fingers together while talking quietly to the cat. Slowly she came out and sniffed at my fingers. Over time she came further out and allowed me to scatch her a bit. I didn't allow myself to get anxious, I knew this would take time and it would hurt. Slowly I pulled my hand further out of the hole and she followed to get another scratch.

When she was in a position I knew I could grab her before she could back up I struck. I grabbed her and started working her out of the drain as she fought me in the only way she knew how. She sank her teeth into my hand as she raked me with her claws but I never let go. Finally I got her out of that hole and pulled her to my chest. I just lay there as she fought me, I held her against my chest and talked quietly to her. Slowly she quieted down and I was able to wrap her in a towel and carry her to her owners house.

Once she was inside I released her and she darted for a hiding place under the couch. I went back outside then to the hospital to get stitched up.

A week later I went to the cats house and was introduced to her. She sniffed at me then hopped into my lap and curled up for a nice scratch. She was a loving cat, just scared.

Cat