Well, Rocco got locked in the garage all night last night by accident & CHEWED ME OUT all morning. How's that?

Imagine the loud, clunking sound as Molly (80 pound chocolate lab) walked into a truck because she was looking at me. Poor baby.

Ohhh...I could tell you stories about Skanky. For a few years he thought he was the bad ass cat of the mountain. One evening he came in for dinner just as I was pulling out a prime rib (to celebrate an anniversary). He was sitting on the spiral staircase watching my every move, at eye level. I had to walk right past him with the rib to get to the table. I was a little concerned that he was going to try to grab the rib. No, he just watched. As I walked by I nearly dropped the rib and screamed, since he looked like the kid in the Fifth Element who had been playing with his dad's gun. My DH, walked over, sighed, poured us each some cabernet. We had a nice anniversary dinner and then played home veternarian.

Go to thefray.com and look up their pet stories series. Some of them WILL make you teary so read with caution, but the others are so funny. I recommend the one about peeing on a cat.

My Siamese likes high places. One day I heard her meowing loudly from the kitchen - and that's Siamese loud, which means LOUD. Somehow she had managed to jump from the fridge to the uppermost of a bank of shelves along the wall. There was a big Indian-store bag of rice on the shelf, which left only about six inches between the top and the ceiling. I don't know how she did it, but she had leapt into that gap, turned herself around, and now her rear was stuck between the bag and the ceiling.

She is the dignified cat of my two, and she was utterly mortified.

I always find that trolling through the "cat yawn" groups on flickr helps. http://www.flickr.com/groups/catyawns/
We're thinkin' good thoughts for you here.

Okay Purl, I will tell you a story, but you HAVE TO PROMISE not to think I am the world's Biggest Geek. Well, okay, you will anyway, What the Heck. Back in the 80's, when I was too poor to even afford riding lessons, I worked out a deal as sort of a working student at a local riding school/boarding stable. Anyway, I was in charge of taking care of the owner's horse. His name was Reese, and he was a full-blooded quarter horse from Texas. He was also twice as smart as most humans. I actually taught him to nod. He knew that meant "yes." So one day it was raining cats and dogs and Reese and his buddy Trapper were stuck inside in their stalls and they were BORED. So, God help me, I decide to entertain them. I did sort of a pogo-type dance, bobbing up and down the barn aisle, all the while sort of singing DOO-DEE-DOO-DEE-DOO. And I wasn't even drinking! Anyway, Reese's eyes got huge, and then he turn his head and looked at Trapper, who was also staring at me transfixed. Trapper turned at looked at Reese, and then Reese looked at me and NODDED HIS HEAD, because I had stopped my little dance at that point. So I started it up again, complete with the doo-dee-doos, and the two horses stared at me, then each other, then Reese nodded again. This repeated itself several times. So that was the rainy day I danced like a total bozo for a couple of bored horses. And now I am sure someone is going to come and take me away.....

His name is Skanky! I guess he has a reputation to keep up, then. Did anyone ever have a gay cat? I swear my cat in high school was a "little light in the paws" (my father's words, not mine). And the tough cats in the neighborhood used to chase him up our tree & lay at the bottom so he couldn't come down. Gay bashers!!

A few years ago I was working teaching pre-school (read: daycare for a fancy place) and my husband worked a job where he could show up whenever he wanted. I had to be at work at about 630am every day and I'd leave while he was still soundly sleeping. I should also mention that we were in the middle of toilet training the cats (yes, like to use the toilet and not a litterbox). Anyways, the people I was supposed to work with were late, so I was down in the gym with all of the early drop-offs (I think I had nearly 20 kids in there, all under the age of 5) when the phone rang. I answer and it's my husband.

Me: Gym, this is Dana
Him: Come home. Now.
Me:...? What?
Him: The cats peed on me. You need to come home and clean it up.
Me: What do you mean? I am alone in a room with 20 kids. I can't leave. I'm WORKING
Him: Just go upstairs and tell them you're leaving. I can't deal with this

It went on like this for a couple of min. before I convinced him to put the blankets out on the patio and to soak the matress with vinegar and baking soda and to just take a shower. I guess the cats, in their no-litterbox-rebellion both climbed on top of him and peed- urine soaked through the down comforter, sheets, his PJs, got all over him and also got all over the matress. And it was just too gross for him to deal with. He would've had me get fired for leaving before cleaning it up himself. Men!

my cat used to walk into our glass doors all the time. you'd think she'd learn, but no. she would walk away with an air of "yeah, i MEANT to walk into the window, fools". crazy cat.

http://cuteoverload.com/ this page is pictures, no stories, but guaranteed they'll make you smile.

i also troll through the different cat groups on flickr.

Funny pet stories? Well I have a cat Claudette, we only speak French to her, well English but with a really bad French accents. All the other cats hate her. Could it be the French?

How about my cats can open the front door? Woke up at three am and the front door is wide open and all my cats are in the front yard, PARTY! We have those weird door knobs, you know the knob on the outside with a handle thing on the inside? The cats jump on the handle, have perfected how long to hang on, the door cracks, they open it wider with their paw and viola, freedom. The dog on the other hand will come wake me up to let her out even with the front door standing wide open.

We have a lab, her name is Heidi, our cat Double 0, yes as in James Bond 007, she's black with a white neck, kind of like a tuxedo, Double 0 just kind of became her name, well she loves Heidi. This cat loves this dog, she sits on Heidi's nose and licks and licks, Heidi growls. Heidi won't hurt her but tries to tell her, "Get off my nose, get off my nose." Double 0 doesn't get it. Just sits there on the dog's nose, happy as can be. Then Heidi will wag her tail, Double 0 thinks it's a game, will spend hours chasing that dumb tail. When Heidi naps, Double 0 is curled up right beside her.

Then there's the Super Sprinks, he's my cat. He's so much my cat that when I get up and walk across the room, he gets up and follows me. He anticipates where I'm going to be and tries to beat me there. He gets mad when another cat is in my spot. He sits on the floor and meows at the cat until it moves, then he meows for me to sit down. He's just a little possessive.

We have an ADD cat who, when she was a kitten, jumped straight up from the back of a chair and then somehow missed the chair coming back down. Thumpo. On the floor. She too got up with that "I meant to do that!" look on her face.

Good thoughts for you and Roy from me and the kitties here...

This is my goofy Siamese story: years ago, I lived in Dubai and had a Pakistani housegirl, named Amina. I was privileged to share my flat roofed, stuccoed one-story villa with a lunatic Siamese cat named Harry Akbar.

Harry, in his infinite wisdom, used to climb up the wall of our villa, sit on the roof and then decide to come down when it got too hot and sunny. (This was the Middle East, y'all, and it gets hot and sunny there. On a regular basis.)

So, Harry Akbar would yowl, and this would alert Amina. Amina would come to me to tell me that Harry Akbar was stuck on the roof for the 900th time that year.

I would sigh, and get a cushion from the sofa. I would stand outside, below Harry Akbar, crooning "Jump, Harry Akbar. Jump." Amina would be pissing herself laughing, saying "oh, madam. I like working for you madam. You are so funny, madam." (Who knows? Maybe she meant madman. She had an accent.)

Harry Akbar would jump onto the cushion, Amina would pull herself together and life would go back to normal, until the next day, when Amina would come me to tell me that Harry Akbar was stuck on the roof.

Then there was the time that I took Harry to the vet and there was a stuff lion in the waiting room...

OK. I can't resist this one.

We have two dogs. Poodle and A border collie mix. The border collie likes to herd. The poodle just likes to bother. Neither can stand it if one of the cats is getting attention. So, cat tries to get around to where she or he can jump on the couch. Border collie, very concentrated, puts herself between cat and couch. Cat moves, dog repositions in front of him or her. Cat moves again, dog moves again to block the way. Cat looks at dog for a few seconds with confusion. Cat headbutts dog's chin. Dog gets so confused she doesn't notice when cat slips by.

Totally a nightly occurence.

When I was 11 my dog (who had puppies at the time,) "Cutie" bit the garbage man. He alway kicked my dog. The police came to take my dog away and I got her up in the barn hay loft, don't ask how, it involed a lot of dog butt. My dad, mom, grandmother and the police could not make me come down. I stayed up there three days with help from my brother. I had to come down when the heat got to much and the corner I picked for the bathroom was full! They quarintined the dog, but I got to visit every day, The police picked me up every morning and took me to see her. All the neighbors thought I had to go to juvie or something.
Feel better, pets enrich our lifes, even after they leave us.

Here's a picture of my crazy cat Jojo to cheer you up. http://belniente.blogspot.com/2006/01/funniest-cat-picture-ever.html

Also, I work at a local animal shelter in Spokane and we have an office cockatoo named Rain that loves to hang out with people. Unfortunately, he's taken an extreme dislike to our accountant, and if he happens to catch a glimpse of him, he'll immediately climb down from wherever he's at and try to walk over and attack his shoes. He means business, too, as he gives a mean 'evil eye'! It's funny only because everyone else here also doesn't like the accountant, and we wish that instead of having to protect him from the bird, that we could just let him go and have at our accountant!

Last spring I had a gift bag sitting out in my den that had no gift in it. Tissue paper and bag. Since I am not a house keeper, it sat there a few days and became Rose the cat's favorite toy. She was in the bag, out of the bag, playing with the tissue. It was all fun and games.

One day while I am on the phone with a friend, Rose managed to get the handle of the gift bag around her neck. This scared her and she started to panic and there is nothing to be done with a paniced cat, so I watched and laughed at the scene as it unfolded.

From the den floor she jumped, the bag followed. Around behind the entertainment center... bag in hot persuit. She came out, ran into a wall, flew through the great room and couldn't rid herself of the pesky bag. As she made a round in the back of the house, my laughter had turned to hysterical tears as she came back in the great room looking like a squirrel. Earl pinned back, bag like superwomans cape flopping behind, she was running from the devel. I assumed a short-stops pose and grabbed the bag as she ran through my legs. She got free and sat under the couch for over an hour in fear. She hasn't been amused by any gift bags since... in fact, she walks a very wide circle :)

this is exactly what I needed :) thank you so much

We have a very old Siamese. Yesterday he was sitting in the chair next to mine (about 9 inches away) and decided that my lap (with all that yarn) looked more comfy that his chair. He tried to walk from one chair arm to the other and fell into the trash can between the chairs. Loss of dignity and definately fenile.

I just went home on my lunch break, intent on knocking out another chunk of The DaVinci Code. When I sat down on the couch, Elwood the Amazing Pooping Siamese (which is another story all together) decided it was lovin' time and spent the rest of my hour of freedom with his head in my *armpit*, purring like crazy. Needless to say, I had a very hot date with the hair-picker-upper thingy before I came back to work.

Erg. Stuffed lion. Apparently, the son of the then Sheikh of Dubai thought that a taxidermied lion would make a great Father's Day gift. Except that it was supposed to be a surprise and the only place they could think to hide it was in the vet's office.

Oh, poor Roy. This is one of my favorite cat stories:
http://www.snopes.com/critters/disposal/catchday.htm

There is also the telephone pole cat, to make you remember they're hardier than they look:
http://www.nothingtoxic.com/media/1130565600/Super_Cat

Personally, Sir Frances Bacon the 3rd got her name (yes, her) because of Cobb salad. She was a stray that'd just adopted us and we hadn't named her yet. She looks just like Soba.

We made Cobb salad for dinner, including all the trimmings, including... bacon. After dinner we decided to forget about cleaning up that night and do it in the morning. Pan-full-o-bacon-grease was left on the stove. The next morning the pan was completely clean.
Frances Bacon she was (with an e, because she's a girl).

Anyone else noticing how many buckwild crazy Siamese there are out there???

Well, there's my Tree Cat Saga, already documented on my blog. And there was the time my sister brought her dog Max down for Thanksgiving. Max (a golden doodle, about 60 lbs) went into my DS's room to eat the Cheerios off the floor -- when he was done he raised his head only to find himself nose to nose with Ed, who had jumped on a low table and who six weeks earlier had used up several lives on some sort of undetermined infection leading to severe dehydration, a weekend hospital stay, and a $700 vet bill. Max backed out of the room and turned left, toward the kitchen. Ed followed, and I expected him to turn right, toward the stairs, and ascend to the Cat Aerie (aka our bedroom), there to lead a quiet life with the other cats. But no, he turned left, cornered Max in the downstairs bathroom, and had to be physically restrained and thrown out of the house so Max could calm down.

Ed, now 19, is still alive and still the only one of my five who won't back down from a canine confrontation. He sends feisty good wishes to Roy.

well, I do have a couple more stories, both about cats. My friend Peter had both a cat and a dog while he was a starving law school student. The dog was a standard poodle named Betty, and the cat was a very crafty, very small female tabby whose name I have forgotten. Anyway, Peter one day splurged and bought a BIG flank steak to grill. He put it in a pan to marinate for a while, and left the kitchen, momentarily. When he returned, the big steak was gone, and the small cat was nowhere in sight. There was, however, a rather slimy trail of marinade, leading out the kitchen, down the hall and outside the house to underneath the car. There was the little kitty, furiously gnawing as fast as she could on this huge hunka meat. Peter and Kitty then got into a wrestlling match over the steak, and the cat almost won. Peter finally got most of the steak back, and being a boy, and a starving student, grilled it anyway. Story number two: The same cat got along pretty well with Betty the poodle until one day, when kitty was in the room when Betty um, snacked on the litterbox. You know how dogs jsut love the contents of a litterbox? Well, Betty was no different. Anyway, when kitty saw that, she got this look on her face, turned around and left the room. From that day forward, she would not stay in the same room as the dog. She would always leave as soon as Betty entered.
I have all sorts of other funny critter stories, but I don't want to take up all of you blogdom.

When my husband and I were fairly newly married we house-sat a couple of times for his aunt and uncle who ran holiday cottages, kept chickens and had 3 cats. If we were going out, we had to make sure the cats were out first (there wasn't a cat flap) - the usual trick was to get the box of cat biscuits and shake it loudly outside the back door. The cats would come running out and get a handful of biscuits. Unfortunately the chickens wised up to this, and used to terrorise the cats - who weren't getting their biscuits, and so were less inclined to come running. We decided to make it harder for the chickens, and managed to separate them from the biscuits - all except for one wily (or so she thought) old bird who decided to cut round the back of us - except that what she thought was solid ground was in fact a pond with plants growing on the surface. She sank instantly, immediately took to the air with loud squawking and flapping - and all this happened in front of cats - cats are cool. Trying to walk on water and failing isn't! We had no more trouble with the bird-brains!

Sorry your little Roy is still not doing so hot.

Ummm, funny pet stories. Most stories about my dog are more funny “uh-oh” than funny “haha”. He recently learned how to magically get on the kitchen counters (I’m not really sure how, he sure is a stumpy dog) and has stolen food out of the cupboards and knives out of the sink and chewed off the plastic handles, and then proceeded to throw up bits of chewed up plastic on the carpet. Coming home is like a mystery fun adventure every day.

Harry Akbar and his sidekick John the Wonder Cat (so called because he used to go walkabout for days on end and we always wondered where he had gone) didn't particularly like each other. I mean, they didn't fight, but they acted more like commuters who happened to sit next to each other on a daily basis rather than two kittens who had grown up together.

Except for one hour per day that my husband used to call 'Silly Hour'. I'm sure that everyone who has cats will know what Silly Hour is. Every day at 5pm, Harry and John would chase each other through the villa, knocking over lamps, playing tag, eating the newspaper, drinking out of the sink and generally pretending that they were good friends. Then, at 6pm, they would go back to ignoring each for another 23 hours.

MY Frankie got in the crock pot and pulled out a roast, then left it on my white slip-covered couch. My unsuspecting daughter came home and sat down next to it. Needless to say, we don't leave the crock pot unattended now.

Two weeks ago my dog locked himself in the bathroom. He went in there, shut the door, and somehow managed to hit the little button that locked the door from the inside. He is a very low key and polite dog, so he didn't make a fuss ... just chilled out in there. I only realized he was locked in there when I noticed both of my cats sitting outside the door -- staring -- looking sorta satisfied, actually. I could not get the door to unlock from the outside, could not get the knob to come off so that I could try to unlock it that way, could not get to the hinges to take the door off to let him out (hinges were, of course, on the inside of the bathroom) ... long story short he had to spend the better part of the day locked in there until I could find a handyman to come and take apart the doorknob and rescue him ... for the tiny sum of $250!!!

One of the cats we had when I was a kid ate some tinsel off the Christmas tree. What goes in comes out, so picture the day I saw her step out of the litter box with the tinsel hanging out her rear: she sat her butt down on the carpeted floor and scooched herself forward with her front paws to try and get it out. I still laugh thinking of it. Give her credit, it took a few tries but it worked!

You tell Roy to hang in there! I am sorry he is still puny. My beautiful blue eyed boy is truly a blue eyed boy. Puddy lost one of his eyes when he was just a kid. It was one of the most horrible things I have ever gone through (next to his life threatening bladder blockage) and the hard part of it all is, my cats live out doors (I do not own them, they choose to live at my house) and they are all, respectively a bit wild. Often times there is nothing I can do if they get sick. Even semi-wild cats are impossible to catch. So I worry and I fret and pray that they all stay healthy and safe. I know how it is to worry about someone you love so much! Hang in there and both of you eat some bacon!!

One warm spring evening, I was sitting out on my second-story sunporch, with my tabby cat Nicholas lying on one of the window sills. He was being very stretchy, and rolling around a bit on the window sill. Suddenly, the screen popped out of the window, and Nicholas was gone! I swear, I was out of the room, down the stairs, and out the back door in a second and a half. Fortunately, he had a fairly soft landing on some lillies-of-the-valley (though from the green marks on his fur, it did not seem that he landed on his feet, contrary to popular wisdom). He was totally fine, though rather startled, and with perhaps a little bit of a bruised ego from his rather undignified descent. From then on, I only open those windows from the top.

B&N are trying their best to destroy my home. Saturday morning I awoke to discover that someone had figured out how to get the straps of my tank tops out of the drawer. Then someone chewed straight through the straps. I have discovered sweaters with huge holes in them as well. Now I have to make sure that I put all clothing and shoes away because those two are sure to destroy them.

And here is a story about a perfectly normal cat and a silly human being: Where I lived in Wimbledon (yes, where they play tennis) all the gardens backed on to each other. I used to wash the dishes in the kitchen and look out over the neighbours' gardens. (Wasn't spying; honest.)

Anyway, one day, in the neighbour's garden, there was a black cat lying on its back with its legs in the air. I kinda clucked and said to my husband "oh, what a shame. Dead cat. I hope they do something about it soon."

Next day, the cat is still there. And it's there the day after that, which is a Friday.

My husband and I were going to Cambridge for the weekend to see a friend so I said "if that cat is there when we get back, I'm going to march over to the neighbour's house and tell them to do something about their garden. Having a dead cat is a health hazard. Children play in that garden!"

We got back Sunday night and Monday morning I look out and the damned cat is still there, in the same place, lying on its back. This is what? Five days now?

I am outraged.

Just before I walk out the door, I check the garden to make sure I go to the right house - I don't want to yell at the wrong neighbour - and the cat gets up and walks away.

One of the funniest times with my kitty CJ was the time when I got a perm (HEY! I've had her 15 years and perms were (kinda) in way back when! ;)).

Anyway, I normally have very straight hair and this Perm-Gone-Wrong was a bunch of very tight, tight curls.

So I get home and both CJ and I are sitting on the bed and she keeps staring at my face and then I see her eyes wander up to my hair. Then she looks again at my face for a few seconds .....and then back up to my hair. She did this for minutes and minutes on end!! I was ROLLING. The confused look on her face was just priceless! You could just see her thinking, "okay, that's my mama ... but what the HELL is that on top of her head?????"

Roy needs a handknit blanket. And maybe a sweater.

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/81866/funny_cats_2/

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1299/funny_cats/

watch with the volume on

The cat was pretty smart but not always sensible. How else do you explain a cat getting on top of the fridge in the middle of the night, getting the (glass) top off the (glass) dish (without breaking it), removing the package of frozen hamburger Mom had defrosting there, taking the package down off the fridge and up TWO flights of stairs, then trying to chew through the zipper bag under my bed? I mean, if she'd eaten it in the kitchen, it would have been a party all night, instead of which it woke me and I had to take it away from her. Cats! Be smarter than that, Roy.

My last cat story. I used to have a cat named Max, who was the most intelligent cat I have ever known. Max had lots of party tricks and he was just a great cat.

Anyway, when my husband and I divorced, I returned to Switzerland to do my PhD. As I was living in student digs, I had to leave my beloved Max in England with my ex-MIL, Molly (who was a lovely person, bless her). I spent months missing Max and regularly called Molly to find out how he was. As soon as we had a term break at Christmas I flew back to London to visit Max. (Stuff the family - I wanted to see my cat.) Max was out visiting with the ponies who lived at the bottom of Molly's garden so I had a nice chat with Molly who informed me that Max now ate Cheddar cheese for his tea and had a nap at 4pm with three cushions behind his back on his favourite settee.

At the stroke of 4pm, Max came in. I was so happy! My Max! Max looked at me as if say 'who is the crazy lady?', had his tea, jumped onto his favourite settee and went to sleep. He never took the blindest bit of notice of me. That's loyalty for you. Cats.

so many cat stories, so little time.

raoul, sleeping soundly by my side, levitated then bolted when i ripped a loud one. my laughter hurt his feelings and he went to sleep somewhere where the winds were calmer.

Mr Domino, my Rat Terrier is full of himself. He thinks he's sneaky and that he can get away with anything. It is the funniest thing in the world when he plays with his toys. Cheap little $1 toys from Wally world. He growls and tears into them as much as he can. They squeak. Loudly. Well, we took him to visit my husbands grandparents one evening and Domino was squeaking his monster and Pop thought it'd be funny to squeak a bike horn at the dog and see what he'd do. Well, Pop would squeak the horn and Domino would reach over with his paw and squeak his monster - just once. It went on like this for a while, Domino copying Pop with the squeaking. As soon as Pop stopped, Domino went back to playing with the monster as crazy as normal.

Mr Domino, my Rat Terrier is full of himself. He thinks he's sneaky and that he can get away with anything. It is the funniest thing in the world when he plays with his toys. Cheap little $1 toys from Wally world. He growls and tears into them as much as he can. They squeak. Loudly. Well, we took him to visit my husbands grandparents one evening and Domino was squeaking his monster and Pop thought it'd be funny to squeak a bike horn at the dog and see what he'd do. Well, Pop would squeak the horn and Domino would reach over with his paw and squeak his monster - just once. It went on like this for a while, Domino copying Pop with the squeaking. As soon as Pop stopped, Domino went back to playing with the monster as crazy as normal.

I don't really have any funny pet stories, but I do have a picture of a pomeranian in ducky slippers
http://www.marniemaclean.com/words/2006/04/i_would_never_d_1.html

Our cats (2 - Nebbiosa & Burkhart) love to chase each other around the house. Well, Burk loves to chase and he is a master provoker. Nebbi falls for it every time. Once, when Burk was much smaller, he had harassed Nebbi to within an inch of her limit, and they were yowling and howling in circles around - kitchen, dining room, living room, kitchen, dining room, living room. On the last cycle through the living room, Burkhart took a dive under the couch. Nebbi was so intent on following him that she didn't notice the couch at all - as she PLOUGHED. into. it. Headfirst. i swear you could see the little asterisks, @ symbols, and stars circling her head!

I'll tell you about one of my cats, Ms. Mac. The poor dear (at least she thinks she is) is an indoor cat with a strong prey instinct. Since I won't let her go outside (the one time she got out she just stood there frozen in the middle of the yard until we came and picked her up), she has to release her prey drive on inanimate objects in the house. Plastic bags and scrap fabric seem to be her favorite objects--but not cat toys, go figure.

She will be in the family room attacking said object, accompanied with lots of meowling. Once she's decided she's "killed" it, she will proceed to meow all the way into me with her prize in her mouth and proudly drop it at my feet. That is, unless I have grabbed the camera. I've been trying for months to take a picture of her doing this. It can be pretty funny, especially when the object is bigger than she is. But the minute she sees the camera, she'll drop what she has and walk away. Little brat.

Sending positive vibes Roy's (and your) way.

I just put one of mine down yesterday so I have no funny stories but I keep looking at www.stuffonmycat.com for laughs

Life with a coton puppy is nothing if not funny.

Alvin (the dog) has a penchant for haning out on my dining room table looking out the bay window. Every morning as I get in my car, I can see him sitting on the table. If I walk back into the house, he runs and hides.

He also locks himself in the bathroom on a weekly basis.

Another time the kids left candy on the breakfast room table. I came home to puke on the floor from the chocolate he ate, and pee on the table...apparently, he was too busy eating the candy to find someone to take him out. Needless to say, I got a new table in there.

Yep got one. Last week our Lab pup, 55 lbs worth, pawed all the water out of her dish. I was down on the floor cleaning it up and our male cat was to the side of me. AnniePup decided to have a skating party on the wet floor at full speed ahead. Bang, right into the cat and I so you can picture a dog, cat, me sandwich thrown against the fridge. No harm except a slightly bruised ankle and a very mad cat.

Ekho is my rescue cat. He's a siamese, but until recently he hasn't been very vocal. But anyway... a bit of background about myself. I used to be a Mormon (was raised that way), but now I'm not. They're still really pushy in a "We-Won't-Let-You-Leave-This-Church-Alive" sort of way. So people came to the door one sunday to collect money from us and I saw them stop in front of my door and Ekho was sitting in the window. And while they were standing there Ekho started GROWLING! Like a watch dog! Deep, rumbly growls! He'd never done that before. Once I got rid of the unwanted religious crazies, I made sure to give Ekho a treat. VERY Good cat ;)

I don't know if this qualifies as a funny pet story or a stupid human story... I once took a road trip with my friend Melissa and my poor (now deceased) cat Bella to D.C. from Pittburgh to see the Pet Psychic. She was filming her show there and it started out with me just wanting to sit in the audience, but it turns out that in order to do that, you actually had to take a pet.

So poor Bella, who had only been living with me a few months at that point having been a stray for many, many years, was loaded up in a large dog crate and taken on three and a half hour road trip. With two crazy women. She was a trooper, though, she sat quietly on my lap during the filming, even falling asleep for a little bit. She supposedly told the Pet Psychic that she liked tuna (big stretch there) and her bowl (which was kinda fancy) and that she didn't like the other cats, but liked me fine and was planning to stay for awhile. She also said that she had been kicked out of her home when her owner died and the daughter, who didn't like cats, moved in. She'd been on the streets since then.

Bella's story never made the final cut of the show, but there were a couple of good close-ups of her that I have on videotape from the series. Which is nice to have to remember her by. She died in her sleep one day two years after that.

My friend Melissa and I laugh about how goofy we were to take that trip, but very few other people who really know me know that I ever did that. And if asked, I will deny it.

Kermit, Gizmo and Beaker send furry and fuzzy "get-well" purrs to Roy.

Hmmm, funny pet stories.

Here's one: Spike, the WonderKitty, liked to run from the back of the apartment, use the cat tree as a springboard and launch himself 5-feet high onto the screen of the sliding door to our patio. After much scolding and hollering and threatening, we closed the sliding door. Mr. "I'm-sooooo-cute-and-furry!!" does his running thing. It was like a cartoon of Wile E. Coyote!! "Runrunrun, SMAP!!! Sliiiiiiiiiiiiide! *Stars in a circle*" My roomate and I almost wet ourselves! I swear the other resident cat just shook her head at him!

My furry niece, Cookie the lab/shep mix is the star of the neighborhood. One day, I stopped by and my sister let the dog out to come say hello. Cookie blows right by me and goes to the house two doors down to "knock up" for the her friend, the neighbor's dog. Said neighbor has company and the visiting mom says, "There's a big black dog at your door!!" "Oh, that's just Cookie asking if Angel can come out and play." The mother wanted to commit all of us, especially the dog!

Lady, the fox-like dog next door, was a part of our family too. My niece would dog-sit for the neighbors. My mom was phobic of all animals. Lady came in the house with my niece one day and went to see my mom in the kitchen. My mom nearly had a heart attack. Lady, good dog that she is, when Mom screamed, took two steps back, sat down and looked around to see what Mom was yelling about. Mom finally calmed down and eventually pet her once. The ONLY dog my mother ever touched willingly.

Norman and the Chipmunk
Norman, not-quite-bright lab chased chipmunk around yard. Chipmunk led merry chase then turned on Norman and put up his dukes!! Smapped Norman on the nose and sent poor Norman running for the safety of his human, yelping all the way!

Kermit, the Cat with Cat-itude, was visiting my sister's for the holiday. Neighbor's German Shep puppy was also visiting. Shep was all interested in Kermit and Kermit wanted nothing to do with Big, Loud, Smelly DOG. After being chased across the basement a few times, Kermit does a 180 and smaps Shep with her clawless paw. Scared the pee out of that dog!!

My best friend has more. Best Friend?

mmm...another one.

my gf and her kitten was spending a few days with me while i recovered from a tonsillectomy. in those days, i used foam earplugs because there was a bar on our street. the earplugs began disappearing.

then kitten got a funny look on her face...and horked up 8 half earplugs. before i could get to her to clean it up, she gobbled them up again.

i figured that what goes up, must come down (again) and waited for the next hork and beat kitty to the puke.

You've probably already seen this marvelous site, but just in case:

http://www.stuffonmycat.com/

It makes me laugh every day! My two cats are more naughty than funny. When the spouse & I got home from our weekend trip to the parents' for Easter we found a ball of yarn entirely unwound and spread all over the bedroom, the chair at my computer desk tipped over, and a turd wrapped in a tank top on the bathroom floor (for the sake of clarity, it was not a human turd). They're lucky they're cute!

When my ex-cat was a six-month-old kitten, a former bf and I were painting a house next door to where she and her stray-cat-mom and siblings were living. It was a lovely October day, so we took our lunch break on the roof of the front porch. My ex-cat climbed the ladder (at six months!), walked across the roof and up to a potato chip bag we had leaning up against a cooler, went up on her "hind feet", and climbed in the chip bag. The bag didn't tip over. It just sat there with little kitten legs sticking out of it. I grabbed her and pulled her out, saying "You little rascal!" So, "Rascalle" she became.

My parents' weiner dog had a long life full of odd events. He used to come pelting into the living room when he heard one of us coming home (he could recognize and distinguish between all of our cars as well as strangers' cars) and he would vault onto the couch and up onto the back, where he'd perch and look out of the front picture window. One day he miscalculated his acrobatics and slipped. With a "Woof, woof, woof, YIP!" he went right over the top, bonked the window, and fell to the floor. Fortunately, he was young and stupid and didn't get hurt.

How about some doggie stories?

I grew up with a labrador who was quite intellegent--in a middle-child-delinquent-desperate -for-any-attention sort of way.

I can remember:

-The time my mom baked a chocolate birthday cake. It was cooling under a sealed Tupperware cake container on the counter. She walked out of the kitchen for 2 minutes and when she came back in, she opened up the container and the cake was gone. Every last crumb. The dog, however, had chocolate smears all around his mouth. Apparently in those two minutes he had jumped up on the counter, opened a sealed Tupperware container--there are days even I can't do that--, ate an entire chocolate cake, resealed the lid, and jumped down.

-When he got into the blue food coloring. Have you ever seen a blue labrador?

-When he and his feline partner in crime opened another Tupperware container of birdseed and spilled it all over the shag carpeting.

-The time he ate a leather coat and an entire brick of chocolate on Christmas Eve, while the elves were out--don't worry, the chocolate didn't kill him though the veternarian and his momma almost did.

-The time he ate a rising loaf of bread. Rising. As in, it still rose after it was in his belly.

All of these stories make me sound like a bad dog momma but truly, you wouldn't believe the precautions we took when it came to food and this guy. Still, desire finds a way.

Back in college, we once heard 200+lb Male Housemate shriek like a girl, slam the toilet lid, and turn on the shower in rapid succession.

You see, Stormcat is fascinated by running water. Ed had been standing there taking a piss when this little calico head popped up between his knees to peer into the bowl, causing him to pee on her head. Apparently, this apparition rather startled him. He threw her in the shower and turned on the water to rinse her off.

10 years later, she's none the worse for wear. Ed never recovered though, and he went on to live a life of debauchery.

Well, we used to have no garbage service up at our house, so my husbnad would take the garbage in the back of the truck and throw it in the dumpster at his school. One day he was running late and so did not dump the garbage first. After school he came out to find five or six ravens on and in his truck bed picking at the garbage. We had cleaned the pantry of old candy, they were having a great time. So much so that there was raven puke with little candy corns in it all over the side of the truck.

When my daughter was about 3 my cat was about 15 and developed an inoperable tumor and had to be put to sleep. My daughter didnt really pay much attention to the cat and didnt notice he was gone until about 2 weeks later when she saw the cat carrier in the garage and must have thought..."hey...I havent seen that ol' cat for awhile".So she asked me..."wheres Twinkles?" (OK..I know...weird cat name). I thought about a way to answer her question in which she would understand so I said.."well honey, he went to heaven"....she pondered for a moment and then said..."He went to Kevin's house?"...I paused to think of how to correct her question, but I just ended up saying..."yes, he went to Kevin's house" and that seemed to satisfy her.

Our rotund kitty, Simon, loves bedtime. He gets all crazy and excited about the two of us going to bed. He snuggles next to me until my husband comes to bed, then he aborts that situation and gets right between us. He gets so excited he drools. He's drooled in my husband's ear, eye...down his chin.

Chloe, our tri color calico, is the picture of perfection. Until she corners you in the bathroom and demands you play with her. She will chirp at you while you are taking a shower. She demands you "put" makeup on her. She forces you to spank her...she's, our s & m kitty.

Josie, the dog, can't seem to allow the cats to get any attention from us. As soon as she hears us giving it up to the cats she swoops in. Simon, doesn't budge. Chloe, hisses a pathetic attempt at sounding mean, and runs away.

Oh, you've done it now...where to start...

-The first cat I remember was Ginger, a tortie with 'tude to spare. She was toilet trained, but we didn't know it, and at five years old, I was blamed for not flushing...
-She was extremely fastidious; if she decided the litterbox was not clean enough and the toilet lid down, she used the bathtub. At dinner time, she would stare a hole through your head.
-We got a dog, a small poodle. Ginger would sit in the floor, cools could, wait for the dog to walk by, smack him in the butt, and walk away. *Or* she would walk past him and smack him in route. She once beat up the neighborhood tomcat *while on a leash in the yard* (Mom thought putting the cat on a long line outside was a good idea. I was six or seven...)
-She was also leash trained, better than some dogs. And she like to ride on the dash in the car.
That was just the first pet...

I'll give you a choice about the next tales...dog? Cat? Cockatiel? Conure? Iguana? Ferret?

Much love to Roy, Earl-of-Bacon.

Oh, and check out the crazy exploits of Hobey and Little Joe on www.tomatonation.com. The story of the Roomba must be read when laughter is allowed!! You have been warned!!

*sends bacon, wine and watermelon seeds*

Hugs to you both!

when i was 22 i was dating a man that none of my friends or family liked. they told me he was a tool. i didnt listen. at christmas,he came over so we could exchange gifts. we sat on the floor near the tree and my dog (who was the most well behaved dog in the history of dogs) (and she had never met him before) came over to him, sniffed him, and pooped on the floor right next to his leg.

Oh, let's see.... We have 6 - yes 6 - animals living in our house. 5 cats and 1 dog. There's Riley the dog - she's a puppy Springer Spaniel and she's adorable, but clearly outranked.

There's Miss Lizzie who is really a Mr. But we named her miss because our little girl at the time was only 3 and wanted a girl kitten, but the only girl kitten at the pound was too sick to bring home, so the ASPCA Volunteer told us that they made a mistake and accidentally put a boy collar on her when they should have put a girl collar on her. She's the most bad-ass girl in the 'hood!

Then there's Sweet Pea is not really all that sweet. She's tiny and cute, but rather a psycho-b*tch. She hates me because I have to give her medicine all the time.

And we have Hogan -female - who is 13 and likes to go outside but she won't "Go" outside. So one day I'm sitting on my patio and she comes haulin' butt inside, I look to see what kind of creature is chasing her, but there's on one. She's run off to the litter pan to go potty!!!!

And Max - Ruler of the Roost. He's got the real Cat Attitude of "I am lord and you may touch me when I am ready" but at night he curls up in my neck and hair (when no one is looking).

Last but not least: Fred. Fat Fred. Tuxedo cat, but the Tux is XXL. He doesn't stray any further than 30 feet from the food bowls. I made him stay outside (fenced in yard) this morning and he YELLED at me for a good 2 minutes when I got home at lunch time.

4 of the cats sleep on my bed, so I know what you mean when you "can't make the bed."

Feel better and give all my love to Roy.

You can see my critters at http://stickyfiisblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-ok-to-love-your-pets-but-not-love.html

Cat stories? Have I got cat stories...

We adopted two kittens, we named the girl "Ella" and we named her brother "Sammy" - which was funny when we left a message on our inlaw's answering machine that said "We got Sam 'n Ella over the weekend".

One morning my husband found a small bone in the dining room and was aghast, looking for which cat was missing a leg. It was from the chicken we'd eaten the night before and thrown away in the garbage, but not too well I guess. My husband really thought there'd been some severe cat-on-cat violence during the night!

We have a black and white tuxedo cat that loves to eat bread. We feed him chunks of it like we're feeding ducks at a pond. More than once we've found teeth marks in the bread bags.

Ella isn't the brightest of cats. We've witnessed her try to wash her face by licking one paw and rubbing her head with the other one.

Ooh, Kat! You reminded me of one I'd forgotten... we used to live in a second-floor apartment. My DH, a software dude, always wore jeans to work and hated any more formal dress. One day when he comes home from work, our dear departed Calcutta cat and I are sitting on our bed. She hears his car and runs downstairs to greet him. Alas for her, he has had an interview after work, sneakily changing his clothes in between. She takes one look at his suit and tie, comes flying back up the stairs and into the bedroom, and hides under the bed.

oh my goodness... do I have pet stories... with two golden retreivers and three cats, there are a few to choose from. Mostly, my 19 pound male cat likes to sleep on my face. He starts on the feet, crawls up to the back of the knees (cuz I sleep with my face smooshed into a pillow), then the butt (purring the entire time of course), then butt (at this point I can't breathe b/c my lungs are being crushed) and then he steathily lays his ginormous belly on top of my face, causing me to wake up and hack a hairball.

This last incident caused me to write an episode for CSI (anything to get me closer to Nick Stokes.. Hi Nick! I love you and want to have your Texan babies). So here's the episode: A 20something female is found face down in her bed, dead of course. No obvious trauma. Sleeping pills and a bottle of syrah are found in her stomach (of course they can determine the type of wine, it's CSI!) and one cat hair. Rush to the end: her cat slept on her face after she downed the wine and sleeping pills and passed out.

Think CBS will buy it? :)

One of my kitties always waits in the window for me to come home and as soon as he spots me, he bolts to the door to greet me there. It's so sweet, I had to share that even though it isn't funny.

He's also crazy for any string and will bring it to me to play with him, but won't drop it. So we play tug of war and sometimes he'll even growl and snort.
I need to get a video of that because it makes me laugh and cheers me up every time I see it.
I'm keeping good thoughts for Roy.

I have a dog, so I thought a picture of him might cheer you up!

http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4894/1474/1600/76855018_241051621_60099597_1144786224182.0.jpg

I meant "back" in the first paragraph... I don't have two butts for Charlie to sleep on.

But that would be another interesting CSI episode...

Paddington has recently become fascinated with our computer screens. Even as I type this, he's licking the text as it appears. He does the same thing with the mouse point. I think he thinks they're delicious bugs for him to eat. All of our computers are now covered with snout prints.

Also, a picture is worth a thousand words:

http://flickr.com/photos/afsheen/13517723/

I have a kitty story here.

Oops! Link didn't post. Here's the URL: http://abirdsnest.net/index.php/wham-bam-thank-ewe-lamb/

When I was little, my dad used to come home for his lunch. We only had sandwiches and on this particular day, it was ham sandwiches. My dad was gesturing with his sandwich and the cat was sat on the back of his chair. As the sandwich went past his nose he stole the ham and ran off with it!

Bunny, our smallest current cat, when he was a tiny kitten got a piece of packaging binding tape stuck between his front teeth. The strip was about 20 times as long as him. He also dangles at the letter flap in the door and looks out and runs away when the post(mail)man comes up the garden path.

Oh, I remembered two more...

One time we were away on vacation and asked a friend to feed the cats. This friend was not too fond of cats but he was a good friend to do this for us. One day he couldn't find Sammy and went looking for him. He walked into our bedroom and froze. He's a former police officer and his when he thought he saw someone under the covers of our bed, his instincts took over. He yelled at the intruder to come out. It was Sammy.

Another time we couldn't find Sammy in the house. Our cats are all indoor cats so we were concerned that he might have gotten out. Our house is small and we thought we'd looked under and behind every piece of furniture and in every closet. No Sammy. We finally found him - inside of a pillow case.

Go ahead and click on my name for pics and stories on my blog about our pug, Maurice. He wants to be best friends with my Heinz Cat, Lola. She refuses to be photographed because it could incriminate her.

Hi Laurie,

I hope Roy is feeling better soon. Been lurking on your blog for a long time now. Any hoot, my funny cat story is about my former employer's cat Oscar. Oscar is an orange colored kitty like Bob. Every weekend or so he would get into a randy mood and stalk one of my employer's bedroom slipper. * Oscar would knock around the slipper then hug the slipper tightly while humping away at it. This would go on for awhile. On his side, on his back, etc. Then after he was done, he would drag the slipper to his food and water bowl like he was taking it out for dinner. Repeat from * Needless to say, my boss never used those slippers again.

Hi Laurie

This isn’t really a funny pet story but it is a funny kid/knitting story with a funny pet ending that I tagged on just for you.

I decided that I just had to finish the grandkids' spring sweaters for Easter -- a rolled neck ribbed pullover in Tahki Cotton Classic -- pattern by Jo Sharp. Of course, I couldn't knit them in one color as called for in the pattern -- too boring for the kids, and too boring for grandma to knit. So Nicky's sweater was stripped in red, white, blue, bright, green, and bright gold. Noelle's sweater was stripped in hot pink, bright yellow, and mint green. Gorgeous (she said modestly). I spent every spare minute last week sewing the shoulders, knitting the collars, finishing the seaming and WEAVING IN ALL THOSE G-- D---- BRIGHT COLORED ENDS! Lord, save me from myself!

I had Friday off from work and spent the whole day working on those sweaters. By 11:30 Friday night, Nicky's sweater was washed and on the drying rack and Noelle's sweater was ready for the seaming and weaving. Saturday at 1:30 pm, Noelle's seater was washed and on the drying rack. Of course, worsted weight cotton yarn does not dry quickly -- I shudder to think how much gas I wasted running the dryer with nothing in it and the sweaters on one of those net sweater dryer thingums, suspended above the dryer.
Easter Sunday and I'm at my Mom's apartment in the retirement community where she lives, and in comes Amy with the kids to join us for brunch.

Me: Hi Nicky, Hi Noelle -- Grandma has presents for you.
The Kids: Presents!
Me, handing out the sweaters: One for Noelle and one for Nicky!
The Kids: Sweaters? (said with complete incredulity that anyone would have the nerve to call a sweater a "present.")
Me: Well, I have a chocolate bunny for each of you, too, but aren't the sweaters cool?
The Kids: Chocolate bunny, chocolate bunny, chocolate bunny!
Me: How about if you try the sweaters on and let me get a picture of you in them, then you can have the chocolate bunnies?
Nicky: No try on!
Noellle (sort of wailing): Chocolate bunny. . .
Sweaters are dropped to the ground and bunnies are unwrapped.

Lesson # 1: if you are 6 and 2 chocolate rules!
Lesson # 2: if you are 57 and a grandma, you are nuts if you think another hand knit sweater is going to top a chocolate bunny.

On the plus side, I finished the grandkids' sweaters by Easter. . .

Happily released from my self-imposed grandkid knitting deadline, I turned to my "to do" list of knitting projects for the person who appreciates my handknit sweaters the most -- ME!

On Satuday evening, I started the Cameo Hoodie from Ram Wools -- a longish straight cut cardigan hoodie done in Ram Wools' own worsted weight cotton, in a cute cute stitch pattern which will not require any weaving in of bright colored multi-colored ends. Easy knitting with just enough pattern to be interesting.

On Sunday, returning home from brunch, and licking my grandmotherly wounds as I tried to spot clean chocolate bunny off my pants legs, I began winding my wool for Alice Starmore's Oregon Cardi. I wound all Sunday afternoon. I wound all Sunday evening. I finished winding last night (Monday) and cast-on 364 sts on a friggin' size 3 needle (it was now 11:30 pm -- a good hour and a half past my ususal work night bedtime).

I got up this morning at 6 am, my ususal time, and stumbled down the stairs for coffee (I have an absolute and inviolate routine first thing in the morning: first I pee, then I drink 2 mugs of strong coffee, then I pee all morning). Seeing my lovely cast-on sweater (well, the very very beginning of a sweater) on the sofa, I decided that I could forgo my 1/2 hour on the treadmill and knit the first row of the cardi. After all, knitting an Alice Starmore fair isle cardigan must count as exercise, right? I joined my cast-on stitches and began. The first row (and the next 13 rows) consist of 8 steek stitches, 2 "edge" stitches and a K2, P2 ribbing where the K stitches are one color and the P stitches a different color. One of the two colors is changed, in the middle of the steek stitches, every round. Thoroughly pleased with my first round effort, I decided I could forgo my usual healthy breakfast of grape nuts, strawberries and skim milk for a granola bar in the car, and start the second round, substituting the "purl" color. Approximately 50 stitches into Round # 2, I realized that something didn't look right. On my left hand needle were 2 knit stitches and 2 purl stitches, ALL THE SAME COLOR, which I had knit in Round #1.

Now I have foregone the treadmill and breakfast, and need to frog all the way back to almost the beginning of Round # 1. Throwing my knitting in the basket I rush upstairs to get in the shower and dash off to work.

I am at work. I am already brain-fried. It is only 10 am and I have to write a big nasty multi-issue brief today. There is nothing remotely fun about writing a legal brief. I am procrastinating. And waiting for me at home is not just an exercise in frogging 300 stitches, but picking up 300 cast-on stitches ---- sooooo painful. I want a chocolate bunny.

Addendum: my grandchildren are from China, not biologically related to eachother or their Mom, my daughter. The older one, Nicky, was just adopted a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know much English yet (that is not much besides "chocolate bunny" and "no try on.) How does he differentiate between me and his other grandma (not to mention his great-grandma)? Well, he calls me “Grandma Louie” because Louie is my little Lhasa Apso who absolutely shakes in terror when the kids charge at her but does sit still while they “love” her to death (of course, all this time, she is looking at me as if to say, “I cannot believe you are allowing this assault on my person – save me!”)

Hope this cheers you and Roy up a bit.

Did someone mention gay cats? My best friend has a 16 pound gray striped cat named Chester Copperpot. When he was just a wee one she took him to the vet's because he was having behavioral issues--biting and scratching and refusing to cuddle up with people. Now the cat hadn't really purred in a few weeks (which is why my friend was worried because he used to sound like a jet engine) but as soon as the vet got out the thermometer and "positioned it" Chester started purring like there was no tomorrow. The vet laughed and told her to get another male cat. Which she did-- Wickett--and Chester has been just fine ever since. Of course they are both neutered so I suppose their's is just a companionable love affair....

omg lori! i am dying! positioning the thermometer... dying! i'm crying i'm laughing so hard!

After my exhusband first moved in with me, I had to go rescue my cat from being given away when my stepdad sold the old house... I'd left her there when I moved into town for university, because she was an outdoors/country cat, and would not have liked apartment life. But I couldn't let her just get given away, so into the apartment moves the cat.

She immediately decided that this new arrangement must be HIS fault... because I was her friend and would never do something so horrible to her. So she started peeing on his clothes. Ruined his coat, a couple pairs of shoes... he had to start mixing his dirty laundry up with mine to save it. She never did pee on ANY of my stuff.

The post about the tinsel hanging out of the cat's butt made me laugh and remember a similar story from years ago. Our cat in Florida loved to chew on curly ribbon. One day after using the litter box he was pacing and meowing and my Mom and I saw, yup, curly ribbon sticking out of his butt. We looked at each other and were like YOU do it!! Finally Mom did it: she took hold of the ribbon, tugged gently, and then Watney ran down the hall all the while MMMEEEEOOOOWWWWing his poor little head off. There was a lot of curly ribbon in that poor cat!! My mom and I laughed and laughed and to this day we are amazed, and thank God for his agile digestive system. And also after that, no more curly ribbon in the house.

Gracie says she has never done anything funny in her life, including the time she jumped up on the fireplace mantel and sauntered down to the end of it, then found she didn't have room to turn around (she's the teeniest bit plump), so she walked backward till she got to the other end, then she walked forward again, and then backward again, and so on, until finally my husband rescued her. Not that she needed rescuing, and it wasn't funny, so she didn't know why I was laughing so hard that I couldn't rescue her myself. Not that it was a rescue.

That's what Gracie says, anyway. :)

Our best to your Roy, and to you, and to all your sweet kittyfaces!

Oh heavens, if there's one thing I'm full of, it's cat stories. Also shit, but that's neither here nor there.

I have two Burmese boys, Max and Bussie. (Bussie is named after Jerome Bettis aka "The Bus", former running back for the Pittsburgh Steelers)(Yes, I am a teensy weensy bit crazy about football) (All native Pittsburghers are that way, I can't help it) Bussie will eat anything and I'm talking he was licking soy sauce out of a bowl just last week. The other day I didn't feel much like cooking so I opened a can of soup. The can opener aroused the sleeping cats, so I abanoned my open can of soup to feed them. I put their food on the floor and was surprised to see only Max. Then I heard it. "Lick lick lick lick lick lick." Bussie was on the counter, licking my soup right out of the can. Who knew he preferred Chicken and Dumplings over Friskies?

He's also been known to eat raisin toast, ranch dressing, and cheetos. Some days I swear he's a dog in disguise.

Jack (yet another Siamese (mix)) liked to get up on the kitchen counter back when he was still a good jumper. He would knock the fresh produce from the garden down to the floor, and the chocolate lab would eat it. Mocha loves potatoes and carrots and the like.

One day, while I watched, Jack got up on the counter and, seeing me watching him, acted all cool like, "I'm not doing anything, Mom!" Mocha, sensing that a treat was on the way, watched Jack closely, to see what he would drop for her.

Jack ambled past the potatoes and headed for the jalepenos, and flung one to the floor. Mocha grabbed it up and took off, because she knew she wasn't supposed to eat human food. She stopped in the living room when her tongue finally got a taste of what she was eating. She spit it out and hasn't trusted that cat ever since.

Stupid human trick involving a cat: It's very late October, when cable shows lots of horror movies. Spike (a 15 pound tabby) had managed to zip outside, and my DH searched for him all evening and most of the next day. Finally, after dark on the second day, he heard loud meowing near the neighbor's garage door ... Spike had gone inside, and then been trapped when the door closed.
So DH goes to the door to ask the lady of the house if she'll let the cat out. He knows she's there, because the TV is going, and the lights are on. He rings the doorbell. He knocks. The lights go off. He comes home (across the street) and writes a note, and sees the woman peering through the drapes at him. He rings the doorbell again, and knocks. Nothing. He tapes the note telling them what happened to the screen door, and then went home again, but decided to wash the dishes so he could look out the front window at the house across the way. In about 20 minutes, he sees man-neighbor drive up in his big truck. The guy goes to the front door, sees the note, opens the door, talks to the inhabitant, and then, as DH walks their direction, opens the garage door and Spike comes shooting out. Turns out wifey had been watching scary movies all day and evening, and was certain that DH was a boogieman/ax murderer, and Spike was his meowing accomplice!

My dog Lucy had an incident with my knitting bag while I was at work. Full, wacky details can be found here: http://hiphipcrochet.blogspot.com/2005/10/im-still-hungry-and-stumbling.html

There's also the fact she learnt she can manipulate me with fake limping and recently has taken to eating all greenery in the back yarn for no reason. She looks like a cow.

My old roommate told me a great story once that involved her then-kitten Aya, a guy she brought home from the bar, swinging appendages, and lots of tears.

Apparently Aya was utterly fascinated by what was swinging between his legs while he was fixing my roommate's wagon, and proceeded to jump on the bed and bat at them.

Claws out.

Poor guy. My roommate said he jumped about six feet straight up in the air, then cried, then left.

If you're tired of reading, check out this guy's blog. Lots of crazy pics of his kitty posse.

http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/kitty_pride/index.html

Funny and sad pet story: A few years ago, it was summer, and my maternal grandmother had passed away a month or so before this. My cats, Sly and Static had gone to live with my parents a few years before this, and my parents got so attached when I was able to take them back (we moved from a house to an apartment back to a house) they didn't want to let go of them so they stayed in Iowa with my folks.

So back to a month after my grandmother died, I get this hysterical phone call from my mother, she's crying and I can't understand her. But from what I can hear, I hear this: Your Father went upstairs to change his clothes, and he must have had a heart attack, he's lying on the floor dead." I'm trying to keep my cool, for my mother's sake, I was in the middle of telling her that I was goign to call Rhonda (a friend of the families - I live 6 hours away) to come and be with mom. As I was starting to tell mom this, she said I've got to get off the phone I'm waiting for Peterschmidt's to call me back to tell me what to do with the body.

Huh? Peterschmidt's, wait that's not the doctor that's the vet.

Mom, wait, who died?

Static, your cat Static. I start laughing hysterically at this point and crying. I went from thinking my dad was dead to having it be my beloved Static cat. But I was very happy it wasn't my dad, I think it was the best way I could have ever been told my animal had died. I was still sad, obviously, but boy was I relieved it wasn't my dad.

Poor Roy, get better soon!
Okay, three pet stories, these are about Taffy, our terrier mix dog. We got her from the pound when she had been brought in because she was being horribly neglected by her owners. This meant that Taffy (her previous name was Onion, can you believe it?) came to us with a few bad habits, like stealing food and digging through the trash. Well, one night we were sitting in the living room, watching t.v., when Taffy comes out of the bathroom with something in her mouth and starts chewing on it. It was a used Maxi Pad! Ewww!
The first Christmas we had Taffy, we had our Christmas Tree up on a table with the presents around it. One of the presents was a hand painted bucket with wrapped peppermint candies. We were all upstairs when we heard a loud crash from the living room. We come downstairs to see poor Taffy huddled in the corner and the bucket on the floor. So we're wondering how the bucket fell, because we were so sure that the table was too high for Taffy to reach. Then we looked in her bed and found half a dozen empty candy wrappers. Not only did she manage to reach the peppermints, she knew to unwrap them before eating them!
This one might be just a funny human story. Mom loves to give Taffy fortune cookies. Mom breaks open the cookie and reads Taffy the fortune. Then Mom will say, "Do you understand?" Taffy will look at Mom and cock her head to one side. That's when she gets the cookie.

Toby, an orange tabby, is a bit OCD about cleanliness. He cleans everything - himself, the other cats, our feet, hands, etc. We have photographic evidence of Toby cleaning a stuffed bear and we've woken a number of mornings to hair slicked on end by Toby spit. Perhaps Toby is your alter ego, trapped in a feline body.

OMG, this is hysterical, I love it. Plus, now the comment section contains the quote, "Did someone mention gay cats?"

!!! :)

In answer to Jenny's post - I also have a gay cat. His name is Fred. We didn't know he was gay until Scooter moved in. Scooter belongs to my son's ex-girlfriend. Scooter has been fixed, Fred hasn't yet. It was love at first site for both of them, and they have been inseperable ever since. When they are appart for more than a half an hour or so, one will cry until the other comes to him. I've been owned by cats since I was 3 years old and have never seen anything like it.

The other goofy thing is that they look alike. They are both grey and white tabby's but Scooter is short hair and Fred is a long hair.

I love my little goof balls.

Poor Roy!! I hope he gets better soon!

If Brian had his way he would have nabbed one of the chirping birds outside my bedroom window. He has been "on guard" for days now hoping that one will fall out of the nest or just drop from the sky in front of him.

I had a cat named James, a big orange boy, whom I loved dearly. Here are some James funnies:
--when he was a kitten, he loved the refrigerator. I opened the door to get a drink one day, and he snuck in. I didn't notice he was gone until I heard the most pitiful meowing coming from the fridge. He looked so sad, that I developed an OCD habit of checking twice before closing the fridge door after that.
--He hated my roommate Bruce and would run and hide whenever he heard Bruce's car approaching. One day, Bruce came home in another car. He was sitting in the living room, and James was rubbing up against his leg for a full ten minutes until he casually glanced up to see why this person was not reciprocating with some much deserved petting...and saw who he was rubbing on. He YOWLED, jumped straight up in the air, spun around, and ran to hide behind the sofa.

And one about my friend's cat. I was taking him to the vet for her and she told me "Cuddy hates the carrier. Just put him in the back seat. He'll be good." Cuddy made his way under the driver's seat, and proceeded to climb up between my legs and through the Y of the steering wheel in an attempt to sit on my lap. That little black face peering at me from the steering wheel made me laugh so hard I couldn't drive. I had to pull over and put him into the carrier (which I brought just in case).

Oh...the same friend had a cat who ate tinsel like Caroline's, but Joann's Mom, a nurse, just grabbed hold of the piece of tinsel and yanked it out of the cat's butt. We were so grossed out. We were young.

Our fun loving cat enjoys watching the birds at the feeder outside. One day I bought a feeder that had suction cups on it and attached it to the window thinking Griffey could watch close up...well the first day it was up he got so excited. Got down in his hunting crouch, did the butt wiggle thing and then leaped at the birds on the feeder...only to realize the glass was between him and the birds. Just like a cartoon he smacked into the window and slide down it. When he landed on the floor he had the typical cat attitude like he knew that would happen....but then he proceeded to do it! Kept me amused for quite some time. I eventually took the feeder down, the cat just couldn't figure it out!

My cat Ben will stand on his hind legs and move his front paws in unison, up and down, in front of his face when he desperately wants attention that he is not getting from me. I call it the bear dance, because all you'd need to do is picture him in a tu-tu on the big top and... I think you get the picture. He also cries this very traumatic multi-syllable cry if I sing in the shower. Don't know if he's in pain or singing along. HTH and I will keep you all in my thoughts.

We rescued our 20lb cat from the humane society about four years ago. Sophie is not the brightest bulb on the planet she is the only cat I know who can't paw open a partially closed door. At least once a week Sophie wakes me up at two in the morning because she has SHUT the bedroom door and can't get it open again. She also loves my husband and last night she showed her affection by trying to sleep on his head! Not so fun considering how heavy she is and once she tries to settle some where she doesn't like to move.

My dog Cooper is allowed to lick our plates clean after we are done eating but not before. Sometimes he just can't help himself though, and he'll sit there and beg while we eat. One day I had a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate on the coffee table (just below snout height). cooper was sitting there eyeing it and starting moving closer and closer little by little. so i said to him "Cooper! Don't even think about it! that's my sandwich!" So he turned to look at me all innocent like but his head kept moving towrads it, and his mouth started opening wider and wider (all while he's still looking at me with a look that said "pay no attention to me...") and just as I was about to say something again he snatched it real quick and ran away!

Mule story for you, Laurie. I'm riding my horse on a rocky trail about 11,000 feet up in the Sierras, leading two pack mules, reins in one hand, lead mule's rope in the other. I've been up since 4:30 a.m., cooking breakfast for the guests, breaking down camp, helping the two wranglers load the gear on the mules, then riding for hours. I'm thinking about lunch. Since we typically ride all day while our guests hike, we don't stop; we eat while riding. I've wrapped my sandwich, fruit, nuts, cookies in napkins (easier to get to with one hand), then packed them in a brown paper lunch bag in my saddlebag that's behind my hip. So I'm riding along thinking how good that sandwich is going to taste when I hear a rustle behind me. Zeke, my lead mule, has silently flipped up the leather top flap of my saddle bag, reached his big rubber lips inside, pulled out the brown lunch bag and, while holding its edge, was flicking my lunch bag up into the air in front of his nose and grabbing the food (and napkins) that came out. When I tried to grab him he'd simply turn his head away from me so I couldn't reach the bag or even his halter, and continue chewing. Aarrgh, there went the cookies, the dried fruit! The cowboy behind me was nearly falling off his horse laughing while I tried to rescue my lunch while there was still something left. Finally I grabbed a hold of Zeke's halter and yanked his big head over, only to be rewarded with a half-chewed sandwich and a couple wet almonds. Zeke was a pretty good mule, actually, just smarter than I was that day.

A hug for Roy, and you too.

I am a slave to the 6 cats in my house. Yes six. They are gentle masters for the most part....

Isaac, big black american shorthair, is having an affair with my sweet beautiful little bottom boy Babou, lynx marked persian blue. When Isaac is in the mood he makes the cutest little Mrawr and stalks over to where Babou is langishing. Isaac then begins to grind (ummm hump)(can I write hump on your booger?) Babou while biting Babous fur. Babou bites Isaacs ear or neck until Isaac stops.

Our best to the Roy Toy Bacon Boy

I used to have a dog named Olive. When she was only about 6 months old, she was running around the house in "spaz mode" (ears back, head down, butt tucked closer to the ground). She was running back and forth through the house and then on her last trip through the kitchen toward the dining room, didn't stop for the sliding glass door that was SHUT. SMACK. She hit that door so hard I'm surprised it didn't crack the glass! If it had been a cartoon, she would have bounced off like an accordion. She squealed, but turned around and kept going as if nothing happened.

WOW, those are a lot of comments!!! I don't have a funny pet story, but my cats howl in the car too. It's the most pathetic sound I've ever heard.

My 3 year old calls our cats "fat cats," and that's pretty funny...:-)

When my husband and I split up and I moved out of the house, my favorite cat freaked out and ran away. My husband and I are still friends and I see him sometimes at the house. Every once in a while, I would go in the back yard and call her. I thought the coyotes got her. It broke my heart. After a while, I stopped calling her. Then one day, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and I went to the back yard and called her. Nothing happened and I went inside. After about an hour, I heard her meowing in the back yard. I ran out and she was there! I was so happy to see her and she was really happy to see me. I love that cat so much. I told her about your Roy and she and I are thinking good thoughts for him.

Last week Rufus was told he has a low Kidney count? The Vet told me this as he was holding Rufus... I started to crack up laughing because as he said it.. Rufus was Peeing down the front of him..."who's got the Kidney problem now?" HAHA

I have gay cats, too. My old cat, Simon died a couple of years ago and to keep his brother, Parker, company I adopted a new cat, Romeo. Romeo was eight years old and pretty skittish when I brought him home. He was like this for weeks, and avoided Parker like the plague. I assumed they’d never be buddies, so I didn’t force them to spend time together.

Flash forward a few more weeks. I got up in the middle of the night, flipped on the living room light and found gay kitty love in the middle of my living room. Parker had mounted Romeo, who was purring like a freight train.

To this day, they avoid each other during the day, but are secret lovers at night.

My German Shepherd Max has eaten a tube of Krazy Glue and a quart of motor oil with no ill effects. He also gets so excited chasing the other two dogs that he doesn’t watch where he’s going and runs into the wall. The walls in my house have dents from his head. Max also clocked himself on the corner of the entertainment center one night and knocked himself out cold.

Lori (Chester Copperpot's auntie), Rocco had the opposite reaction to the thermometer on his first vet trip. I thought I had covered all the bases with him in the car.... 'they're gonna look at your ears and give you a couple shots and weigh you and then we'll be done.' So, he was all set. He ate some of the receptionist's peanut butter sandwich, flirted with all the ladies, then we went into the exam room. He did great through the shots, ear checking, paw checking, etc. But then came that thermometer. He gave me this look like "we didn't cover this in the car!! Get this thing outta my ass!!!" Poor little guy.

hehehehehehehehe. Now the comments say "get this thing outta my ass!"

I don't have any funny pet stories but tell Roy to stop monkeying around and GET BETTER.

When I was a kid, we had a weighted wire mesh cover over our fish tank so the cat (named Silly for obvious reasons) couldn’t stick his paws in it. He used to jump on the mesh and stare down at the goldfish. One day he was sleeping on the tv (warm) next to the tank when my sister took the cover off the tank to clean it. Silly woke up and jumped right in the tank, chest-deep in water. He jumped right out again and left a wet fish-water trail all through the house. (No fish were harmed in this story.)

I used to call one of my current cats, Carl, a bulimic cat because he ralphed most of what he consumed. When I got divorced (I got custody of the cat) he stopped barfing. True story. He’s 13 now and still fine.

Kisses and bacon to Roy.

Speaking of monkeying around, check out Stitchy McYarnpants April 10th entry.

Many purry thoughts to you & Roy.

Well, as mctwin said, I have funny pet stories coming out the wazoo.

She already told my favorite Spike story, so I'll tell you about my morning alarm clock. Spike believes that I should be up when the sun comes up. He believes this with the fervor of a religious zealot. It is his mission in life to get me up as soon as the sky lightens. My mission in life is to sleep as long as possible. This leads to many morning battles. His first strike is to leap lightly on the foot of the bed and pad his way up to my face, purring loudly. Once he has reached my face, he gently touches his cold, wet nose to my lips. I push him away and throw my hand over my lips. Next he gently bats my eyelids with a paw. I push him away and roll over. Then he licks the tip of my nose. Again with the pushing away. His next step is to delicately insert one lower fang into a nostril and bite just hard enough to cause pain without breaking the skin. I push him away and turn onto my stomach burying my face in the pillow. Then he pads back down to the foot of the bed and smacks the dog on the nose. Once the dog is sufficiently roused he leads Henson (the dog) up to my head, which Henson then proceeds to paw at less than gently while barking in my ear. The dog-cat combo never fails to get me up before 6AM.

Spike also likes to get out of the house for a little run-about. I don't allow him out because we have foxes, possums, raccoons, cars and other scary things in the neighborhood and I'd be heartbroken if something happened to him, so he has to be a sneaky paws if he wants to chase birds. Now, generally, he comes back on his own before too long if he gets out, but that doesn't stop me from panicking and racing around like a lunatic trying to catch him. There's also a semi-stray cat in the neighborhood. A huge black and white tom-cat, named Boss Tom. Boss Tom is a friendly soul, and one night when I was out looking for my Spike, he came over and meowed up at me and sat down by my feet. I leaned down, pet his head, and said "Have you seen a black and tan tom out here who doesn't belong?" I swear to God, Boss Tom jumped right up and ran off. A few minutes later he came back chasing Spike in front of him with a satisfied look on his face like "Found him!" I gave Boss Tom lots of scritches and some kitty treats. Now, whenever Spike gets out and Boss Tom's around, Boss Tom sends him right back home.

Over one Christmas holiday season, my son brought home the science class hamsters (rodents) to care for. Snowball and Dirtball, both males, we were told. Dirtball was biting everybody and at one point was flung across the room after biting my son. We woke up Christmas Day to find eight little hamster babies. Oh the joy, it was a Christmas miracle. Until Snowball decided he was hungry or cannibalistic and proceeded to eat all the babies. Not too funny but a learning experience. No rodents are allowed in the house.

Then, there is my dog Taz. He thinks he is a cat. He has a bad habit of killing birds and mice. Although he did save me once by killing the mouse that was running around the house with the trap stuck to his tail.

That was after the first mouse that was running around with a trap stuck to its tail. We put it in a garbage can and filled it with water thinking it would drown (because I wasn't gonna kill it). Damn thing swam for three days before it died, it was a slow horrible death. I felt really bad for torturing it. Next time I called in Taz and he saved me.

I brought home two ceramic planters shaped like welsh corgis. My female welsh corgi wouldn't go near them, barked, howled, growled, and generally made a huge fuss. Would NOT smell them. I had to put them in the closet because I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown!

{{{{{Roy & Laurie Hugs}}}}}

My kitty Simon (who is also fat, and also a drooler, and sleeps with me nightly) has been through a bit of trauma early on. He was in some kind of fight with a dog or raccoon and was bitten badly on his butt and back. (This was before I knew him - he is my stepcat). At the time, dh was moving and had two little kids with his then-wife, and when he found out that Simon had an abscess and pretty bad damage to the tissues, and that the vet bill was going to be $2000, he shook his head, cried, and said he couldn't do it, and that Simon has to be put down. He left, went home prepared to tell the family the news, and then the vet called. She said Simon needed soft tissue surgery (grafts), she didn't know how to do it, but she would attempt it gratis. All they had to pay would be his board and his food. So they said, okay. She performed the surgery, and he lived at the vet for several months. He had a cone and a little diaper and tubes for drainage.... Quite pitiful. But - he made it! He wouldn't even eat their good food and instead would only eat the crap Meow Mix my dh fed him. The bill after two months? $500. Not bad.

Today, Simon is a handsome, slightly overweight black cat with green eyes. Once I got in the picture, I changed the diet to Iams and his coat is so luscious. He is quite masculine and stocky now. His scar is actually - I swear this is true, I can prove it with pics - diminishing and hair is FINALLY growing back in its place. Not completely, he still has a scarred up booty. But it's much less visible. AND - get this. His butthole is crooked. It pulls to the right as a result of surgery. It's hilarious. He doesn't seem to care, though, and poops just fine ( alittle to the right). He is a cat transformed, too, as i must say, I love him up and now he is most definitely MY cat. SUch a smoosher boy.

For whatever reason (perhaps I am sick and twisted) I was the one to point out the crooked butthole to the kids. They were like, really? IT's crooked? And then proceeded to crawl around following him to check it out. "It IS crooked! Wow!" Now they love to point it out to friends.

DOes anyone else "channel" their cat's voices? And the cat always tells you (through you, ahem) how wonderful and loving and stylish you are? Just a thought.

Much love to Roy! I had a lynx point siamese who looked much like Roy, although mine was FAT. SOOOO fat. And his meow was more like a cross between a bray and a quack. Seriously.

Did Sobakwa give Roy permissiong to be sick? He might be in big trouble when he gets home. I know she rules with an iron paw!

Tortoiseshell power!

7 cats in the Catty house, a billion tales(tails?).
Some highlights include the almost nightly occurence of the Big Fat Shew curled up with my husband, under the bed covers, head on my pillow, just looking at me like "He's mine, babe!" Or the staredowns that happen when Shew is on one side of me and Cinco on the other and both want 'mom time'->they always end with a smackdown. Then there is ADHD Isabelle who knows the sound of the laundry change container and heads to the front door do laundry with us. Or Jack who hunts through the trash for the perfect piece of paper, brings it to us for throwing, then fetches (and takes the paper to the other spouse if you didn't throw it 'right'). Jack is also the one who appreciates a good Always sanitary plastic wrapper (the yellow ones are his favorite). We have had more than one butt-pulling episode (the fun factor comes from watching the CatMan's face as I do it!). We used to have a cat (Bud) who seemed inappropriately interested in me after the CatMan and I had sex. Ewwww! Ayep, the fun just never ends in the Catty house.

Lots of comments, and I feel like mine will just get lost in the herd, but I figured I would tell you anyway, because it always cheers me and my kids up when I tell this story. I had a dog named Jack. The best dog I have ever owned...and a complete chowhound. One day my (ex-) husband and I had just gotten a care package of chocolate chip cookies from his mom. We put them up on the counter and left, and left Jack inside because it was raining (give me a break...I live in So Cal too...it doesn't rain that often and I HATE the smell of wet dog). Anyway, we get back later and the cookies are gone and Jack is lying on the floor with his tummy pouched out, panting. We yell at him a little bit and go back to our everyday routine. Later that night, we are getting ready for bed, and Jack walks into the closet and starts wagging his tail like crazy (he had a docked tail, just a stump really, so wagging his tail means that his entire butt end goes whipping back and forth), digging his nose into one of my shoes. I grab the shoe away from him and reach my hand in to discover that he has stashed a cookie in the shoe. As take the cookie away, he runs into the bedroom and starts shoving his head under my husband's pillow. Voila, another cookie! And another under the desk. And another in the bathroom behind the toilet. I think we spent 45 minutes on a cookie scavenger hunt...following Jack around the house and watching for a fast wagging tail.

My furball, Cirrus, has a strange sort of relationship with squirrels. Normally he chases them. But one day, a few years after he adopted me, he was out in the back yard sunning himself. I walked past the open kitchen door, and had to do a double-take due to something I'd seen out of the corner of my eye ... out in the backyard, Cirrus was sitting there LICKING THE SQUIRREL! He was sitting behind the squirrel (who was sitting up and eating sunflower seeds) and Cirrus was LICKING HIS FUR!

"CIRRUS!" I shouted "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" and he stopped and shrunk down a bit and looked VERY shame-faced. The squirrel ran away and Cirrus came slinking back inside.

My cat: the squirrel lover.

Poor Roy. Ok, a cat story. We had a big goofy lab mix and a very old cat. Our landlord's cat had kittens, and I thought it would be fun to add one to our family. I brought all six of the kittens into the kitchen and watched them play. So did the dog. All was well until he came in to say hello. All six cats immediately levitated up to the level of the top of the cabinets and began running around them sideways, over and over again, peeing in panic as they went. The dog, in the meantime, followed on the floor, barking wildly. Husband and I hung on each other, laughing until the tears flowed. How I gathered everyone up without being scratched to death still baffles me. We kept one kitten, who thought the dog was his mommy, and lived happily ever after.

Soba has been serving as Roy's fur blankie. She seems to lay on him all the time... protecting him from the annoyances of the kittens. Who I refer to as "kittens" even though they are what... three years old now?

Melise, I'm enjoying reading every one of these!!

We were literally feet from the dog park but stuck at a red light. So I decided to let Elliott, my Boston Terrier, stick her head out my open window. Just then a few dogs walked by and E went nuts -- and jumped out the window. Thank God it was still a red light else she would have been squished. And she had her collar/leash on. As I hauled her back in I was yelling at her for being a bad girl and simultaneously laughing my head off.

I have a mini dachsund who throws temper tantrums when she doesn't get her way. She will sit up and toss her head and arms around and make squeeky sounds.

Thoughts and prayers are with Roy.

Take care,

dkswife

These are my favorite StichyMcYarnPants blog entries -- read the March 3rd and March 27th entries-- about cats
http://yarnpants.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_yarnpants_archive.html

Picture this: Hubby is 100 miles away, on a hunting trip with his brother. Shit-ass cat Carmichael decides to investigate the open sock drawer in my dresser (I'm putting away laundry), and when my back is turned, winds up getting himself trapped BEHIND the drawer. He's mewing pitifully, and can't figure out how to get himself back out - - and every time I try to reach back (and under) to make a grab for him, it scares him even more and he nips at me. It took the better part of an hour, with hubby on the phone guiding me through his big ol' toolbox to find the proper size tool, then trying to figure out WHICH SPOT on the drawer was the RIGHT spot to get the darned thing OUT. All the while this crazy cat of mine is carrying on like he's dying back there . . .

It took many glasses of wine to get me recovered from that! *laugh*

AND - - every time I open that drawer, he runs right over and tries to climb back in! *sigh* Idiot . . . :-)

Okay... there was the time my mom's two dogs were romping in the basement and managed, by dint of skill and pure dumb luck, to lock themselves into the guest bedroom. We had to call a locksmith at 11 pm to let them out after I fussed with the lock for several hours and no success.

OR... there was my basset hounds strange attraction to potatoes, that was pretty funny! She'd get into the pantry, where my folks always kept the big 10 pound bag of russets, and she'd snag herself a raw potato. After chewing it over for 10 or 15 minutes, she'd cast it aside and then go get another one. I guess she liked them "fresh". We got home from dinner one night to find Sam, our basset, content as could be, surrounded by the remains of the ENTIRE 10 POUND BAG, each potato slightly chewed and drooly. Now that's good times!

Hope Roy is feeling better soon!

I had a cat named Bear who was soft, fuzzy and stupid. I loved him dearly. Anyway, one day when I returned home from work, I found a kitchen cabinet door open. Directly below the cabinet, on the counter, there was some sort of herb or spice scattered around. A few feet away on the floor I found some more. In the next room, I found Bear, sitting in a stupor next to a huge puddle of drool, surrounded by catnip. He had jumped on the counter, pried open the cabinet, dragged the bag of catnip out and chewed a hole through the plastic ziplock bag, through the paperbag and the little bitty plastic bag that held the catnip. He was totally and utterly stoned.

My Ali-cat likes to crawl inside my sweatshirt (while I'm still wearing it!) to get warm, which is my cue that the house is too cold and it's time to turn up the heat. I have a picture and post about on my blog, if you're interested: http://marysvirginwool.blogspot.com/2005/12/god-bless-us-everyone.html.

My cat Casey sits up on her hind legs for extended periods, like a rabbit, in an effort to get her head closer to the hand that scratches it. I have a picture of it which I've yet to blog about -- perhaps later this week!

Me knows about the waterworks when it comes to sick kitty cats. I still cry when I think about my childhood kitty who lived until I was in my late twenties. For her I still carry a childish, irrational grief that on some days it seems I haven't yet moved beyond.

I have a calico with three strikes against it in the sanity department: 1) calico 2) half-feral (daddy may have been a bobcat) and 3) taken away from its mommy too soon. (I adopted her from the vet she was abandoned at when she was six weeks old.)

Anyway, the other night we were watching the movie "Grizzly Man" about the guy who went nutty and decided he could commune with bears in the wild. The cat, who has never paid any attention to the TV, sat next to me on the couch and watched the whole movie. She was just fascinated. Rapt. I thought it was cute until I realized she was probably taking notes on how to deal with all these humans who are constantly just in her way...

Feel better, Roy!

My cat, Rocco, likes to be involved. No matter what you're doing, he will saunter up and stick his nose in it or plop himself on top of it. One evening I was boiling some water on the stove to start dinner and I had turned my back on it to wash some veggies in the sink. All of a sudden, I smelled something. Like something burning. I whipped around, ready to grab the baking soda to put out the fire, and there next to the stove sat Rocco, starkly white and looking like perfect royalty with his pristine tail wrapped around his right side. And touching the burner. As I took all this in, the burning-hair smell and his quickly-blackening tail, he just stares at me with his big jade eyes, a look of mild curiosity on his face. He had no idea he was being singed. I grabbed him and as I inspected the damage (it was just hair, totally superficial) I started laughing. Hysterically. Part of it was that I was so relieved that he was relatively unharmed, but that look on his face. It was like he could tell I was panicked, but didn't really care. He was just waiting for the ensuing exitement to play out. It still cracks me up to think about it. After a snip with the scissors he was back to his gleaming, blemishless self. I wish I had a picture.

We had a second thanksgiving dinning with a ton of friends a couple of years ago. My cat decided to spend the meal sitting on my shoulder. Normally well-mannered, she started trying to intercept the turkey as I attempted to feed myself. She ended up on the floor for a bit then then hopped back up.

And then I fed her a good slice of turkey, piece by piece, from my fork. She sat on my shoulder, dainty as you please, eating from a fork. Then she drank from my glass when I stopped to laugh at something.

Spoiled rotten little brat. Lucky for her that she's cute.

Well, maybe not funny - but how about feel good? I am trying to help place my neighbor's 8 dogs and 16 kitties - she passed away but was an animal lover to the end (and an ardent spay and neuter advocate). So far we have placed all but two of the doggies and four of the kitties! All are going to new homes or are being accepted by no-kill shelters or rescues. Feel better Roy - you're lucky to have a mama that loves you so much! You feel better too, Purl.

Laurie,

I totally meant to wish you and Roy well before I ended that post. My boys, Rocco and Vito, send you both their best!

Every so often our mail tom cat would pee in the toilet. Weird, but he just started on his own. One morning my Dad (while I was still living at home) looked very strangely at me, and said next time I was sick I needed to clean up after myself. I had no idea, but whatever, sure, I'll clean up after myself. About a month later he went ballistic and chewed me out for the mess in his bathroom (near his bedroom, not the bathroom near my room, which I always almost used). I walked into his bathroom and there was feces in the toilet, on the toilet, on the floor - feces festival. I was absolutely horrified and screamed "I didn't do that!" I mean, you could smell it, CAT FECES, DAD! It took a while to convince him.

He kept his bathroom door shut after that day.

This is a site for a poo stories, after all, so I thought I would share about an overabundance.

And there is the time that same tom cat, with glazed eyes and a roarin' purr, sat on my lap and oh so gently reached up and latched on to my t-shirt-only-clad nipple with his teeth and gave me a love nip. Kitty learn to fly real fast.

My Reggie has such a big butt that he has to let one leg hang off the edge of the windowsill. His entire backside doesn't fit anymore.

Okay, the problem for me here is narrowing down the Funny Pet Stories Archives to just one....

Beezel was a big black part Siamese cat who was slightly crosseyed and humorously uncoordinated. A few years ago i was cleaning my four-foot fishtank when Beezel decided to leap up onto the top of the tank to watch (he liked sitting on the top of the tank and staring down at the terrified little fishies). Unfortunately for Beezel, the lid was off for the cleaning process..... he splashed down into a foot of dirty fishtank water. I hauled him out and dropped him on the floor, whereupon he spent the rest of the afternoon sulking in the garden smelling of fishtank...

Caroline in MA – your story about your cat gingerly maneuvering glassware reminded me of the time I came home to a basket full of cherry tomatoes on my bed, which had been transported from the kitchen counter with no tomatoes being dropped. I may have suspected it a prank from my neighbors with a key, but I found a couple whole tomatoes in my doggy’s doo the next day (lovely image, I know). Funny how an animal that can act like a wreaking ball sometimes can exhibit such careful intent!

okay, just a quick note:

you know that story Rhett told? with the bag around Rose's neck?

replace "bag handle" with "bra strap." yes. there's the visual.

enjoy!

We have a bit of a royal thing happening at our house. I'm a countess. Princess Kitty is, well, a princess. However, I thought I was high maintenance. Last Christmas she proved is all princess.

Princess Kitty had been in and out of the liberry / my office for over an hour. She came over to my feet, figure eighted my ankles, and made this weird "Hey! I'm not getting exactly what I want exactly when I want it" noise we hear quite frequently. So I picked her up and she made biscuits on my shoulder and I thought I fulfilled whatever kitty need she seemed to be experiencing. Alas, we repeated this exercise four times. The fifth time I got an idea. Her favorite sleeping spot was under the upstairs Christmas tree. (As opposed to the real tree we had downstairs as it was a redwood and had prickly branches) So I go into the hall and plug in the tree. As soon as the twinkle lights start to twinkle Princess Kitty hops up to the table on which the tree stands and curls up under the tree to sleep.

Do not let it be said that a Princess shouldn't have sparkling twinkles under which to dream sweetly.

Liberace knows how to grab on the the handle and throw himself backwards so that he can open the magnetically closed cupboard I keep my yarn in. If I stay away from home for too long he takes it out on my yarn by spreading it all over the house. (the poor yarn!)

my ex had a orange tabby named tigger. He came home from work one day to find the inside of the house had been tp'd with the toilet paper from both bathrooms. Tigger would grab the end from the roll and run like mad around the house. Tigger would also climb the bookshelves and crawl behind the books. My ex liked to have every book lined up exactly at the edge of the bookshelf. When Tigger would get behind there he would push the books off the shelf one at a time and stare at my ex while he was doing it. Tiggers name was changed shortly after that to satan.

My mom currently has my cat anastasia and she is a pill. One night my mom called to tell me that she has started locking her in the back area of the house so she would stop destroying my moms things while she was work, only to come home and find shredded toilet paper everwhere. Anastasia had reached under the bathroom door and managed to get a hold of a 16 pack of charmin triple roll, open it and shred every single roll of toilet paper, all from just reaching under the door.

I had to stop reading half way through! These stories are so funny.

My current kitty roommate is Basil. Basil thinks he's my boyfriend. He also does nothing on a regular basis. He is the most predictable cat for about two weeks (or so) and then changes his personality completely. Well not completely, I call him my needy boyfriend because he has to be on me at all times.
My funny story starts about a month ago. He noticed a neighbor cat outside and decided it was time for him to be outside to. Now he's an 11 year old male who's NEVER been an outside cat and has only had supervised visits to the outer world. I was a bit stunned and frustrated at this development but allowed him to go outside, since he did nothing but eat grass and look at things. I'd started to allow him longer and longer visits to the outside world since all he did when he was back inside and not sleeping on me was MEOW. and yes meow in all caps. all day all night. My ex boyfriend (short lived) said that he was just horny and wanted to get some (never mind that he's been um, altered). Well last Monday (the 10th) I stayed home and figured a mid afternoon of sun would be good for Basil and let him out. I fell asleep on the couch and went to bring him in. I couldn't find him. I freaked out a little and informed the neighbors that he was wandering and has no street smarts. Well an hour later my neighbor knocks on my window because she's spotted him and I go to get him. He's obviously not ready to come into the house just yet and disappears into a different backyard. Little did he know that the backyard housed "Evil Dogs". I went to get my shoes to see about following him/trying to get him and when I hear a ruckus (large dogs barking) and all of a sudden I see my Basil jumping over the shed in the back yard and hightailing it out of the danger zone. It's been over a week and he hasn't asked to go outside since. But if I game home smelling like nasty dog slobber and missing a little bit of hair I'd not want to venture out anytime soon either. In fact he's tried to get out a few times and succeeded yesterday but took one look at the rain and came back inside. I think his Spring Fever has been cured. Thank you Evil Doggies!

Just for you, an until-now secret story... when we were first married, my husband and I had a big black cat named Sam. One morning my husband was shaving in the bathroom, after his shower, without a towel on. I heard a strange shriek--apparently Sam had wandered into the bathroom, looked up at my husband, then stood on his hind legs to box "the boys" very briskly. The next week, he came slinking along the counter and reached down to box... you know. AFter that my husband started wearing a towel around his waist after his shower!

When I moved back up to Alaska to marry my husband I had two kitties, one was named Mickey. He was a black and white holstein looking guy. He was very funny. We moved up at the end of September from Santa Cruz, CA. My house in CA had a cat door to the fenced side yard. It was a little bit of heaven. There was a fig tree, there were birds, there was dirt to dig in, sunbeams to lounge in. In Alaska I moved into a second story condo. The only cat door led to a utility room that was snug and warm and the home of the litter box. Mickey came to the condo, was let out of the carrier and walked around. It was rainy and cool outside. He walked over to that cat door and jumped through. He let out a big mournful yowl. He hopped back out and glared at me. He hopped back in, yowled and hopped back out. This went on for quite a while. I always thought that Mickey was trying to find the cat door to summer and paradise.

There is a website www.ratemykitten.com
Very cute kitty pics. NO PORN, I swear!

You know those packing peanuts that are hollow tubes made of potato starch?

Oh, my black cat, loves them. I've made the mistake of leaving a box of those peanuts on the floor of my bedroom and have been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of kitty jaws munching on those peanuts.

http://www.mycathatesyou.com

No stories, but really funny photo captions!

OK. Here's a story that always made me laugh. My friend Nicole used to have this huge cat. One evening she and her sister were arguing over whose turn it was to clean up after dinner. Well, they had had roast chicken for dinner. All of a sudden they heard a noise in the dining room. When they went to investigate, there was their cat carrying the chicken carcass in his mouth. They tried to retrieve the chicken but the cat hid in a corner behind the sofa and proceeded to growl and hiss at them. I think they learned to be a little quicker in cleaning up after that.

my kitty? puddy? puddy tat? was an outdoor cat. he wasn't fat, but he was huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge. puddy slept on my bed at night...only once attacking. in his defense, i had flipped over and my had did quite an accurate mouse impersonation.

puddy was a napper. most all of the time, but occasionally he would get a hankerin' to explore the great outdoors. on a number of occasions he would disappear for a day.

usually that meant that the neighbors would call to tell us that puddy was stuck in their chimney AGAIN.

oh, and? land sakes, i hope you're not too young to get this reference...we also had two cats named darrell and darrell.

Ah, cat stories. This I can do. Mojo, my first cat (on my own, that is) loved to sit next to the stove and supervise his domain. The GAS stove, with the always-on pilot lights. I had to move out of that apartment so that his tail fur would look right - it was constantly singed! Now he's big and dignified. If the other two get too crazy, he waits for them to run by him then reaches out and smacks them.

Juju, my silly little Siamese, loves shoes a LITTLE too much. Whenever friends come over, she hides until they're comfy and slip off their shoes. Then she sneaks out and begins to make sweet love to them. Luckily my friends don't mind!

P.T. is my baby terror. He is only happy if he's in my lap, but his favorite thing to do is curl up with me while I'm on the computer, purr for a while, then reach out and start delicately pushing things off my computer desk. He's also gotten into the highest kitchen cupboard, where he cried until I came and rescued him.

They all send licks and best wishes to Roy! (And Juju wants Soba to teach her how to rule!)

My Satchel (black lab) has destroyed one refrigerator and the door to the current one. We will have to replace it soon. As we speak I can hear the whomp, whomp, whomp of him trying to get it open with it bungee-corded to the wall! It sounds like a grown man jumping about 1 foot into the air and landing on wooden floors with clogs on. and that's the absolute truth. He pulls it open enough and stuffs his steel molded head in and pulls things off the shelves onto the floor to eat. At this point when I seen he has a roast in his mouth and is staring at me and then drops it onto the hairy floor, if it's not too perforated, I just rinse it off and we have it for dinner anyway. He is also very good at opening mayonnaise jars and licking out the contents. I'm also content with scooping off the top layer of that and continuing to use the remainder of the saliva-free mayonnaise. You just have to view it as a different rendition of mayonnaise, sort of a catagory along with fat-free, you have saliva-free.

I have to run upstairs now to bungee cord the door to a marble-top side table and then the whole thing to the wall to deter any further snacking by my sweet boy. (By the way, the girls (cats) love it, they get to try all sorts of new things slightly tainted with saliva!) I hope this cheers you up. I could send Satchel over to amuse you with his extraordinary skills..... there is also no crate that can hold him, just ask the vet!
love, mary

When my sweetie and his brother adopted Yellow Cat (L’ello)from the back alley we knew the first thing we had to do was get him “snipped”. The brother (we’ll refer to him as “J”) was working a night job so he was available to take L’ello to the vet. For some reason, he didn’t take him to the usual vet, but to the humane society. Well, this little yellow cat was traumatized enough just being put in a cat carrier and taken to a strange place; it didn’t help matters that there were big barking dogs in the waiting room…he didn’t like it! When it was his turn, J brought L’ello into the examining room, which had two doors. The vet tech didn’t close one door quite all the way and L’ello saw his chance as soon as the carrier door was opened. Zoom… out the door, into the scary waiting room… where to go, where to go… aha… a tree – sort of. This was a new location and in the room there were steel support pillars surrounded by concrete blocks and L’ello headed straight for one of them and proceeded to scoot up it. The problem is, the blocks did not go all the way to the ceiling and when L’ello reached the top he disappeared down inside! There was nothing for it but to take a jack hammer (or some such piece of equipment – I don’t know, I’m not a construction expert) and cut into the brick to get kitty out. Imagine the trauma for this poor little guy. Finally they got through and weren’t quite ready for what happened next. Seeing a way out, L’ello shoots out of his concrete prison and proceeds to the next “tree”….up… and in…again. The process is repeated only THIS time the humans were ready and caught him as he jumped out and was heading to a third concrete block “tree”. (I never said he was the smartest cat.) Needless to say, this neutering cost the humane society more than they charged us. I haven’t gone to check, but I think they’ve sealed the top of those pillars. That was a few years ago and L’ello is our sweet, loving, snuggly miracle kitty, coming back from two near fatal illnesses. Oh, and he too has only one fang. I thing the one fang kitties are the toughest and most resilient. L’ello sends his love and support to his compatriot Roy.

My dog is a hermaphrodite.

Really...

We didn't know it until we took him to the vet to be neutered. He had retracted his testicles so there was significant surgery. Turns out that he retracted his testicles because they were attached to his uterine horns, uterus and cervix. Talk about a dog with everything!

I didn't read all the comments, but please if you haven't already tried Bastet Cat Hospital in Burbank, you gotta! The vet there is so great.

We have a longhaired black cat named Smokey, who is very handsome but not the brightest crayon in the box. Several years ago we also had a hamster named Fred.

One morning, my husband came into the living room to find Smokey and Fred sitting about three inches apart in the middle of the room, just staring at each other. My husband scooped Fred up before he turned into a kitty buffet and carried him back to the cage. Fred must have been suicidal because he bit my husband's finger and jumped right back out.

Fred escaped a few more times, and I'd find him wandering around. Smokey would be following, looking like he knew he was supposed to do something but he couldn't remember what. I couldn't figure out how Fred kept opening the cage (it was one of those plastic things with tunnels and an exercise wheel that snap on). Finally, one night, I saw Smokey hook his paw underneath the exercise wheel, and snap it off of the cage.

Incidentally, Fred eventually died of old age.

Growing up in a house full of kids (there were five of us) always meant a lot of stuffed animals (and a few real cats as well) One day Bob (not the smartest cat in the world, named "bob" because that's the sound his head made when it hit the wall - he ran into walls a lot) took a "liking" to a stuffed cat toy that we had around the house. I've always been amazed that he singled out the stuffed cat from those millions of toys we had lying around - he could have picked a teddy bear or a doll, but no - he knew what he liked! and he REALLY liked this cat toy, and never had the decency to take it for dinner and a movie first, either - any way, no matter where we hid the toy Bob would always find it and then proceed to molest it quite violently in the middle of the living room floor - I'll never forget the Christmas he performed his live sex show for my entire extended family - my mother was mortified, but the rest of us just laughed!

My cat Tommy trips over his own feet all the time. He's a pretty tall cat with LONG legs and as some tall people know, it's easy to trip over your own feet.

Our other cat Ashes, tries to do the roll over "I'm cute look at my tummy" thing. She does that right off the bed all the time.

Oh yeah, I have another one... although this one is gross and funny. My boyfriend at the time had a cat, Mo. Mo liked to munch on condoms. He would open the packages and chew on them. No matter where we hid them, Mo would always find them. One night we noticed that Mo, yet again was munching on a condom, and when my boyfriend took it out of his mouth and went to check (and re-hide the stash) he discovered that it wasn't one of his condoms, but one of his roomates. A used one that Mo had dug out of the garbage! ew ew ew!

Two words . . . making biscuits!

:)

Several years ago my family had a great big ginger cat named Bandit. Bandit was big and handsome and there was NOBODY HOME. He got locked in the cupboard where we kept the dog food once... he didn't make a peep all day, just ate his way through TWO POUNDS of dog food. Then came out and had his dinner as usual.Occasionally he'd come home with singed paws from trying to steal food off the neighbour's BBQ... But his crowning achievement? He came home one day with a chunk of smoked salmon in his mouth. I have no idea where he got it and I don't want to know.

DK = Diva Kitty
DKM = Diva Kitty's Mom

DK – lick, lick, lick, lick…
DKM – zzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz
DK – lick, lick, lick, lick…
DKM – zzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz
DK – lick, lick, lick, lick…
DKM – What? Sophia, what do you want?
DK – Feed me!
DKM – It’s 3am, get real!
DK – Feed me NOW!
DKM – stupid cat, zzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz
DK – lick, lick, lick, lick…

5 hours later…

DKM – Morning
DKM Co-Worker – Gosh, are you feeling ok?
DKM – Yeah, I’m about 75% back to normal
DKM Co-Worker – But you’ve got some kinda rash on your forehead.
DKM – Rash?!
DKM Co-Worker – Looks like someone took some sandpaper and scraped your forehead up.
DKM – SOPHIA! AAAAAARGH!

DK – zzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz Heh-heh zzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz

I hope Roy feels better soon. My Mom shared this with me today, thought it would make you chuckle.

Dear Roy, Sobakow, Frankie, & Bob:

The dishes with the paw print are yours & contain your food. The other dishes are mine & contain my food. Please note, placing a paw in the middle of my plate of food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food & dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and it is not a racetrak. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out & having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. IF by some miracle I beat you there & manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge & try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years, feline attendance is not mandatory.
The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other cat's butt. I can not stress this enough!!!!
Love, Crazy Aunt Purl

Um, Chaos is usually good for a giggle if you drop by ye olde blog. Hi Roy! Sending you healthy thoughts. Don't worry your mom anymore, ok?

Roger the cat's latest revelation: red laser pointer light = crack, and he's an addict. BIG TIME. MUST. HAVE. UNCATCHABLE. RED. LIGHT. All the time. Big unfurry cats need to make with the light. NOW! NOW! NOW!

Big unfurry cat people think this is perfect revenge for all the midnight (and later) feet-under-the-covers-need-attacking-NOW parties we've had.

Hmmm...does anyone think it's funny that one of my dogs ate a $50 skein of cashmere yarn?

You might be tired of reading these by now but this is just too too much:

My dad TRICKED his cat on Saturday. Ginger (an 18 year old marmalade tabby) comes in and gets him up in the morning by laying on his chest, until he decides to get out of bed and go feed her. Since the time change April 2nd she has been doing this at 5:30 am. Well, this past Saturday morning Ginger came in and climbed up on his chest to lay down. He said "ok, let's go" and Ginger jumped up and ran into the kitchen. Meantime, dad goes into the bathroom, shutting the door fairly tightly so Ginger could hear it. When he came out of the bathroom, Ginger was still in the kitchen waiting for breakfast, so Dad shut the door lightly and went down the hall and went back to bed. (his door was open). At 7:30 he woke up and as he came out of the bedroom, there was Ginger laying on the floor looking under the bathroom door waiting for him to come out, he said she was really surprised to see him!!!
I about laughed my head off at that!.

Sorry your baby is sick, it is so hard.

Back before I was born, my dad had a cat named Blackie (guess what color she was!). He also had a black bearskin rug that basically belonged to the cat. My uncle (mom's brother) was home from the navy, visiting and stepped on the cat while she was sleeping on the rug. The cat takes off and until her death, hated my uncle. HATED.

Shortly after this, uncle was catsitting while mom and dad were on vacation. Blackie, being a cat, loved to be up high - on top of the fridge. Uncle didn't know this, went looking for the cat (who was hiding on top of the fridge), walked past said fridge and all of a sudden Blackie comes flying off the fridge, lands on uncle's head, bites him and takes off.

Uncle never catsat again. He now has dogs and lizards.

I have a sick dog at home right now too. The head dog in charge. Our other, emergency backup dog assistant to the HDIC is currently fulfilling her role by taking over barking duties and such. Our sick dog cannot walk right now and is on medication that makes her really thirsty. Maxine, the emergency backup dog decided to help out yesterday. I was sitting on the sofa knitting and her she comes. Dragging the rug that the water dish is on all the way across the kitchen, into the living room (oh so carefully) and stopped in front of her sick sister. Animals are the greatest!

This first one is not exactly a funny pet story, but it was kind of funny and, well, I wanted to tell you earlier, but I think now is the perfect time. Anyway, I'm taking criminal law. For many crimes, you can't be guilty unless you had the intent to commit the crime. So we read an old case where someone removed a side of bacon from a butcher shop. The professor explained that one of the people involved could not be guilty of burglary because he did not intend to commit the felony of theft -- he did not have the "bacon lust." And I immediately thought of Roy. BACON LUST! Ok, it's not *that* funny and I guess I am blogstalking Roy, but still, I just had to say: Bacon lust! BACON LUST!! BAAACON LUUUUUST!!! I think Roy especially needs some bacon. Please give Roy some bacon from me.

Oh, there was the time I discovered my cats apparently have some kind of space-warping powers. I lived on the top floor when the apartment complex decided to have the roof redone, and the roofers put their ladder and rubbish bin right behind my apartment, so not only did they do the actual repair of my section of the roof, they also dragged a lot of other stuff back and forth above me. Because the roof was the flat kind with gravel, this was astoundingly noisy -- the noise was approximately what you would expect if a large monster was trying to chew through the roof with big grinding teeth. I think that's what the cats thought was happening, because they disappeared. When I finally found them, they were under the sofa. I would have sworn a cat could not fit under that sofa, but there they were.

Mandy has a broken canine and I don't know when it happened, but it was probably the time when she was racing down the long hallway towards my bedroom just as I was shutting the door. She is faster than my reflexes -- and apparently faster than her own reflexes, too, because neither of us realized what was happening until it was -- *CLONK!* -- too late.

My friend's cat Buster spent several minutes prowling frantically around the refrigerator, back and forth, trying to get behind it on one side, then pawing at it, looking under it, running to the other side to try, before we noticed. Then we watched a few more puzzled minutes before we realized we hadn't seen Barney, the other cat, in quite a while. Barney was a sweetie but he was not the brightest cat ever, and when we let him out of the fridge, he seemed not merely unfazed, but more as if he didn't even *realize* he'd been trapped in a cold dark box for half an hour. He was all like, "hey, what's up, you guys missed some major napping action."

There was the cat that hated my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend's ex-housemate and would take dumps in his shoes. Or my mom's cat Louie aka "Squirtle" who, before he was neutered, would mark his territory by spraying the skylight in the living room roof. Or our old cat Peewee who even though she was middle-aged as cats go and spayed into the bargain, knocked off the hardware cloth cover of my guinea pig's cage and climbed into the cage and flopped down, for all the world as if she wanted to nurse the guinea pig. Said pig was squealing mightily and ramming the cat's belly by running into it full tilt. Cat evidenced consternation, befuddlement.

This was the same cat who decided to eat the mouse she had caught when the Avon lady was visiting. They heard a crunching sound and looked over...
And a story told to me about a young man who was disliked by his girlfriend's cat. The cat snuck under the covers and hooked the guy's balls which caused him to scream (naturally!) and jump up which caused the cat to swing back and forth like a pendulum, still hooked into a delicate portion of male anatomy. He may not ever have had children...

Im with ya too, unfortunately. Worried sick for my pups. We had to come to the incredibly difficult decision to find a new home for our wonderfully sweet 10 month old pup, Elphie. She is big girl on campus, starting to assert her female-ness and our other dog, Rosie the Rhodesian, who loves her, but isnt going for the Queen Elphie thing. There have been a couple of fights both nearly on top of my 5 year old little girl. I think Elphie is trying to establish Alpha and being protective at the same time. We just cant risk the girls getting hurt, especially because in the second fight, I got in the middle and was bit on my hand and arm. We took Elphie to an adoption event a couple of weeks ago. Same day we took Rosie to the dog park. Rosie ended up rupturing her crutiate ligament and will need surgery. She is in pain, its breaking my heart. I actually found Elphie a wonderful home and was set to meet her new mommy at obedience class tonight to say goodbye. Walked into the living room and saw Rosie's empty medicine bottle on the couch, Elphie nearby. Panic. I figured that Elphie ended up taking 20x what would be her dosage for the med and is in the hospital with an iv for the next two days. Her potential new mommy is so understanding, but I am worried sick about her and Rosie, who needs surgery, and me, hanging on by an emotional thread. I know so much how you feel, the worry and the anxiety. I hope your kitty feels better soon. If you need anything, let me know. Even if only to commiserate. Take care. Love Debra

Oh, also:
"My Cat Is Afraid of the Vacuum Cleaner"
http://www.powersalad.com/powersalad/audio/cat.mp3
One of my favorite things I have heard on Dr. Demento lately.

When I was a kid, we had a big St. Bernard, Heidi, and a rotten neighbor kid, Susan, who would throw rocks and sticks at Heidi over the fence. One day my mom and I kept hearing a funny noise, and after about 15 minutes, finally went outside to investigate. It was rotten Susan screaming! She'd let the dog out, Heidi had cornered her by the fence, and was slobbering ALL over her. St. Bernards know slobber, and to make matters worse, Heidi had been eating grass! Susan, the little monster, was covered in slimy, green drool dripping off her head and face. Snort! She wasn't hurt and never bothered the dog again. ;o)

Once I brought my sister's cat Mitzi in the car with me to pick up my sis from school (45 min away). Bad idea. I don't know if she thought I was kidnapping her, but Mitzi managed to get back at me for terrifying her so badly by pooping in my cupholder, then when my sis got in, Mitzi peed on her arm.

I still can't believe she had the aim to actually poop in my sedan's cupholder! And that she was mad, but not mad enough to pee/poop on the upholstery! High-larious. Mitzi still hates me to this day, that cat totally holds grudges.

When I was in high school, my dad brought home a kitten one day and said it climbed in the car with him. We thought my dad made it up, after all cats don't just climb into a car for a ride. Then one day my mom was taking me to school and the cat slides down the front car window. From that day we had to check the top of the car every morning to make sure he wasn't there.

Roy, you take care of yourself.

Manx cat: free to good home.

Pit mix dog: $70 from the pound.

Watching the (8 lb) cat chase the (50 lb.) dog backwards up the stairs: priceless.

(Poor dog - she was so confused!)

I had a cat who set his ass on fire once. Really. He was part Russian Blue and from what I can tell they are the sweetest cats in the universe, but not always ... shall we say ... cut out for a career in physics. Or in anything much other than licking charred testicles, it would seem.

Better?

Here's something to cheer you up:
For almost a week I had been suspecting one of our four cats had been "missing" the litter box by several rooms. So late Monday afternoon, I caught the suspected culprit in the act WHILE on the phone with a co-worker. While discussing a project I screamed out loud as I spotted my cat Mordecai taking a leak in a potted plant in the living room window. I believe he was pissed (ha, ha) about the new anti-stink litter. What a fuzzball!

Thought of some others on the way home last night:
Roommate's cat who thought new OB tampons were little mice with cool tails and used to hide them all over the apartment.
Landlady's kitten who thinks it is really cool to spin the 21-year old Maine coon cat around in the swivel office chair.
An apartment complex cat we nicknamed "Miss Wallenda" for her ability to show up on our 3rd floor balcony (via the roof) and sit outside the french doors to torture our cats on the other side.

And my co-worker at the vet clinic who got a male cat from the local humane shelter. The cat would not pee. At all. Finally co-worker husband takes it upon himself to 'mark' the litterbox with HIS urine. Ta-da. Cat happier than a clam and using litterbox.

I know a bird who yells "HOLY COW FRIEDA, THERE'S A METHODIST AT THE DOOR!"

Feel better - you & the kitties have a fan club in Indiana.

I know what you mean by "pitiful meowing in the car" and "I will scratch you"... Imagine travelling to our cottage - 1,5 hr in a car - the kitty wearing cat leash and sitting in a basket on my lap. Sitting, well... Trying to escape every two minutes, meowing, biting, scratching, drooling, more meowing, hyperventilating, drinking some water, laying still for 15 seconds, and again... ><
Lots of love for you and your cats! ^^

I wish I had some good story to tell you, but the only pet I ever had was a goldfish that lasted one weekend when I was seven years old. How was I supposed to know it wouldn't like Frosted Flakes?

Oh Rabbitch's cat on fire reminded me!!!
Our scruffy caught her tail on fire once. She was laying in front of the kerosene heater to get warm and she stood up to stretch and put her tail right against the heating part. It caught on fire, and we are running to get a wet towel, yelling Scruffy scruffy scruffy!! and she is just standing there --tail on fire -- so later, she has this bare, charred tail, all the hair singed on it and he goes to lick it and looks at us like -- UCK! WHAT HAPPENNED HERE???? Thank god she wasn't seriously injured or that she didn't catch the house on fire!!!

Oh BTW -- where is SteveD since someone called him out?? I notice he hasn't been posting.

Two cat stories:

I had a co-worker, Helen, who had a cat named Marshmallow. One night Helen and her husband are sleeping soundly when Helen is awakened by a THUD from downstairs. Then a quieter thud...then rustling and a dragging noise. The noise seemed to be getting closer. As Helen listened, she heard thuds and rustles coming up the stairs. At this point she's getting a little nervous and she wakes up her husband. And they turn to face the door just in time to see Marshmallow come into the room, dragging a loaf of bread she had knocked off the kitchen counter. "Oh," said Helen's husband, "it's Marshmallow. I guess she just wants a sandwich."

And the other evening my husband and I are sitting watching t.v. and we hear the sound of Cat Playing in Bag out in the hall. We don't think too much about it and suddenly my husband bursts out laughing. Duncan, our younger cat, had just walked into the room...with a small bag firmly stuck on his head. He didn't seem upset...you know, just passing by...with this BAG.

My kitty is a special needs kitty, she is very high strung and prone to yowling at the top of her voice all night. So, being the modern kitty momma I am, I get her the kitty version of Xanax.

Well, Miss Kitty hates pills. Can't hide them in cheese or food, which means I have to sit on her an launch it down her throat. So, I do because I love my kitty and I needed to sleep.

The drugs didn't work so well, which was odd, they were supposed to be wonder drugs. The vet also thought it was odd. So, we try something else, a much larger pill. Getting her to take these is twice the fun!

Cut forward to moving day. I am vaccuming the heaters and getting dust bunnies out of the corners. When I move the computer desk I spy a neat little row of the first pills that didn't work. Sneaky kitty faked me out! Then she went and spit them out behind the computer desk! She may be bonkers, but she isn't dumb!

Atticus and Mae send kitty head butts and head licks to Roy and his family!

Atticus remembers the time when he was a kitten he wanted to be with his Mom ALL THE TIME, to the point he jumped into her claw-foot bathtub FULL of water (but Mom was there too!). Ooooo, was he shocked! And embarassed! But, it doesn't keep him away from water, oh no. To this day, this big 8 year old kitten still can't figure out that the toilet is not a good perching spot. He stills falls in the (clean) toilet, paws and head first. Oh, and how he taught his Mom a valuable lesson - don't leave the tampon box OPEN and in PLAIN VIEW. Because they will end up scattered all over the apartment, usually when Mom comes home with a guest.

Mae is just too cute for words, and knows it. If I'm on the phone, and it's past dinnertime, she'll stroll on in, look at me pathetically, and EAT DUST. Then look at me again. She never does that any other time, only when I'm on the phone.

But, they make me laugh and smile everyday, and the little Dudes are sending happy kitty thoughts from Canada.

:)

My cat, Candy, is my first pet ever. I still get a little nervous picking her up when she's agitated. Her last vet visit involved me putting on oven mitts and chasing her around the apartment and lots of swearing before getting her in the carrier. She has all her claws! But she's ok once she's in the cab on the way to the vet - I think she almost enjoys the ride.

Did you ever read this on JenLa?

How to Wash a Cat

1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.
5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a “power-wash” and "rinse”.
6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.

funny cat story:

My baby Isis was half Siamese and half alley cat. so she liked to climb on high places and then sing the alley cat blues. well one day i heard her meowing (a very distinctive meow she had. imagine an 80 year old mean as hell aunt who smoked Pall Malls. now imagine her meowing. that was Isis.)

well, i heard her meowing and sounding a little distressed. but i couldnt tell from what room she was in. i looked all over the house. i inlisted other family members to follow that meow
! finally i went to look in my upstairs bedroom closet again, when for once the meowing sounded closer. so i looked all over the room and saw something very strange sticking out in the middle of the slanted ceiling. the bedroom upstairs never had any ventilation built into it, so many many times my father tried to circumvent some air into the room by adding a new vent off a main vent from the furnace. well, now there are 3 or 4 different attempts at vents all over the walls/ceiling of that bedroom. somehow, Isis wiggled her fat self into one that was in the middle of the white ceiling. since she was white as well, i didnt see her the first tour through the bedroom.

so now i have a 30 lb cat stuck in my ceiling, meowing her head off. and we couldnt find her in the house b/c the meowing was resinating in the WHOLE house from the air vents!

so 20 mins, a lot of coaxing, some butter and a lot of claws-on-metal screeching later, Isis was out of the vent.

dear god, i loved that cat

Sarah R, your bread story reminds me of a similar story that happened to me.

One night, about 2:00AM, I was awakened by Jack's "Mommy, I'm lost/Where are you?" meow (for which, I believe he has cornered the market...) I realized that I had shut the bedroom door and he wasn't in the room--a mortal sin, you know.

I didn't get up right away--thought maybe he would lose interest, but soon discovered he was serious. He was right outside the door, making that LOUD, throaty distress call. I got up to let him in.

I opened the door to the vision of Jack, holding a new bag of hot dog buns in his mouth. He looked up at me with scorn in his eyes, laid the buns at my feet and wordlessly walked over to the bed, where he got up, plunked himself down, and then looked at me like I was the weird one being up at that hour. I love that cat!

I have three cats. The youngest is almost three years old now. Her name is Lucy but we call her "the kitten." Anyway, the kitten really likes poultry and is really spoiled. So, one night when we were sitting down to eat some KFC she decided that she really wanted some chicken from stephen's plate. He, understandably enough, didn't want to share. As they were "discussing" this: him batting her paw away and telling her no and her meowing loudly and continuing to try to swipe a piece of chicken from his plate, she actually did manage to grab a piece of chicken from his plate (wing, I think.)

She did not get to eat the chicken but we still talk about her managing to swipe that piece from his plate right under his nose!

I could tell you more but then this comment would just get longer and longer! I hope your kitty is feeling better, and that you are too.

We just got a new puppy (beagle/basset mix) and our toy poodle took one look at him, gave him a sniff and then lifted his leg on him. Some welcome!

this picture of karl always makes me smile:

http://www.brilliant-disguise.org/images/kittens/mekv22.jpg

and the rest are here:

http://www.brilliant-disguise.org/kitties/

I have a 14 yr. old English Cocker Spaniel named Fitz, aka Fitzy Boy. He started getting separation anxiety last spring when we were in the process of moving. Lots of crazy barking when we were home, and who knows what he was doing when we were gone. One night we got back from taking another load of stuff to our new house out of town. Took him out of his kennel cage, let him in the house, and then went back outside to do whatever. Came back inside a few minutes later and oh my god, HE HAD EATEN THE KEYS OFF THE KEYBOARD that I'd just put on the floor. It's always something with Fitzy Boy.

Hugs to you and sweet little Roy, xo

p.s. ummm...keyboard of the laptop. yeah.

it ain't funny but minou and birdie have diarrhea after the long weekend of stress with big dogs. You might think it is funny if you picture minou and I racing to let her outside and never never once making it there on time. Which of course leds to me bent over scrubbing the carpet gagging every few seconds...
ha ha soo funny...

My three year old Siamese mix, Frodo, has had an identity crisis his whole life. He seems to have gotten the mistaken idea, at some point, that he is in fact a two month old Labrador retriever puppy. He knocks over the trash can and proceeds to scatter garbage across the kitchen, shreds my toilet paper every morning when I won't wake up early enough for his tastes, and he will eat anything. ANYTHING. (His favorite thing? Hummus from Zankou Chicken.)

My roommate's cat just likes chasing the reflection of Frodo's name tag across the floor, wall, window, etc. She makes Frodo seem normal sometimes.

My friend's cat used to make loud slurping sounds when he cleaned himself...*down there* It was both disgusting and insanely funny at the same time.

Sweet Pea was a great pooch. She would ride in the basket of my bike as a pup and then graduated to the seat of my mortorcycle and would tell you off if you didn't take her on every ride! In her old age she would wake up in the morning to greet you and it was also the only time you could get her to "Kiss The Kitty" and she would lick the sleepy evil cat LuLu who would then chase her all over the house. Every morning like clock work.

Hamster story: Powderpuff was smart. He was super furry and the fur by his hind legs would grow long.(I once won an art contest using the trimmed fur for a rabbit on a poster)Well, Powderpuff would back his little chubby bottom into the same corner and up into a hand stand so he wouldn't pee on his fur! Nor bad for a tiny brain.

Hope Roy mends soon. My kitty had seizures since she was a kitten and nothing could be done until I was refered to the great gals at Pets Naturally (13459 Ventura Blvd.818-784-1233)and she is now on herbal seizure powder and never has them and both my cats eat a raw diet and are the healthiest ever.(the 13 year old plays like a kitten)

This has been THE. Best. Comment. section EVER!!!

This morning I was trying to quietly get ready for work so as to not wake my roommate, and my kitten, Chai went dashing through the hallway and I peeked into the bathroom just as she tried to jump into the tub THROUGH the glass shower door. *THUNK* *dazed and confused look* She's fine. Ok so that was a mix of funny and pathetic.

I used to have two kitties, tabby Falstaff (ate like a pig) and his brother, black-and-white Orpheus (sang to me in the morning to wake me up). One very hot, miserable summer night I had fallen asleep leaving the big box fan on. I woke up to Orpheus' song, sat up, briefly saw Falstaff back his bottom up toward the fan, and immediately thereafter heard a loud BANG and saw Falstaff go straight up in the air and literally fly out of the room, downstairs and out the back screen door at warp speed. He had sprayed the fan full force . . . while I was wondering about where he had gone (outdoors was bad, since he was declawed), I saw that the fan had burst into a flaming pinwheel, threatening to set the draperies on fire. I jumped off the bed and grabbed the fan, ran out to the driveway where I left it to burn itself out, and found Falstaff under the porch, ears back and silent. He was furious and avoided everybody for a week. I was a little late to work that day, but my manager nearly gagged when I explained why. Then she made me write it up and send it to the whole team in an e-mail entitled, "Why I Was Late to Work This Morning." Periodically I heard bursts of laughter coming from various cubicles.

Oh Laurie--I'm so sorry Bob's not in such a good state--but I'm hoping that his meds will be gone and your fountains will be out back in your little secret garden!!

We had a gray striped "M"-cat for 17 years once...his name was Scratch and my 2 children took him to bed, each on his or her night (only way to be fair, you know!). He loved us all, but was very attached to my son--who was 6 years younger than his sister. Anyway, on Sherry's night, Scratch would go to bed with her, but the next morning, always ended up in Ed's room-- tucked under his little arm !! Ed got accused of stealing Scratch from Sherry's room, but he denied it (of course--that's what little brothers do!).

One night, she pretended to be asleep and got very still. Scratch crept up and peered into her face to see if her eyes were closed. After hearing her quiet, steady breathing, he shot off her bed and scrambled into "his brother's " room and snuggled under his arm--Ed never even woke up!!

Guess who had to apologize to her little brother the next day!!

Hugs to you and Roy. do your cats go nuts when you change the bed? Mine is absolutely bonkers about the sheet. It is weird.

This is a little late but it just happened to me so I'm posting it anyway. My cat Maggie tends to be constipated so I have to keep an eye out in case she needs... help... so she doesn't scoot turds across the kitchen floor. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen and noticed that she kept going in and out of the cat box, so when she stepped out and tried to leave the room I asked her, "How's your pooper?" (I tend to say idiotic things like this to my cat when my roommate is gone.) Well, I hardly expected a response but she immediately stopped, looked over her shoulder at me, and lifted up her tail! I'm sure it was a coincidence but I thought it would have been hilarious if I had inadvertently trained my cat to show me her anus every time I asked about her "pooper"!!

Meant to post this the other day - picture's worth a thousand words, right?

http://flickr.com/photos/jjd/47880028/in/photostream/

(This is Burkhart - The Insane One)

I don't know if this is after the fact but I wanted to wish both you and Roy well. I don't have funny stories to share but I do understand what its like to have cats with diseases. I have two and one has renal kidney disease and the other has had cancer. Neither of these cats are old. One is 9 the other 6. It scares me but in both of their cases it has been over 3 years since they were diagnosed and treated and they are doing quite well. I honestly think that when I was stressing about them it made things worse. When I was peaceful with them they felt it and it soothed them. That is my advice. Feel peace with them. They can feel your heartbeat and if you are nervous and upset this will transfer to them. In both of their cases I was told less than 1-1.5 years lef to live and yet they are both still here over 3 years later. They both had visits to the vet recently and the results were very good. One of them can stop her medication totally (for now) and the other only needs half as she needed before. This is very encouraging. Both of them seem very healthy, active and happy as well.

I don't know what is happening with your Roy but I thought that I'd give you some hope that turnarounds do happen even if the doctors don't predict it. There is always hope.

I wish Roy well, what a cutie he is.

I adopted two black kitties, brothers from the same litter, when they were one. In college, I had a futon (what college student didn't?) and when it was a couch, Cosmo could perch on the back and jump to the top of my tall and skinny bookcase, which was between the futon and my bed. One night, he's perched up top, stretching and enjoying his lordship over his land. I'm reading before bed, all relaxed and getting sleeepy. CRASH! The bookshelf comes tumbling down, with massive amts of books and all. I'm panicking, thinking my Cosmo baby is squished under my bookcase. Like a supermom, I lift the bookshelf to check, but he's long gone.
While 'stretching' he had pushed off the ceiling and wall... tilting the bookcase just enough.

It was my sister's birthday last week, and there were lots of balloons hanging around on the floor after the party.
My rabbit Peach fell madly in love with them and humped every single one of those babies til they exploded. His expression when they popped, every time, was SO FUNNY. Like, "Baby? Where'd you go? I thought we totally getting along!"

I don't have a story that will cheer you up but I do know how you feel. Last weekend I came home and my cat, Big Man, who was not yet 3 years old, was having trouble walking. He would walk a couple o steps and have to lie down, or he would start spinning in circles. I took him to the vet on Sunday, easter day. They told me it was idopathic feline vestublar syndom, which cats can develop suddenly - it messes with thier equilibium and should only last a few days. By Thursday, instead of getting better, he was a lot worse. His head was turned into his shoulder, he was drooling on himself, wasn't eating or drinking, and could no longer get in or out of my bed. I took him back to the vet and they did blood work and other tests. They sent me home with special food and a syringe to feed him with. Last night I came home from work and he had peeed in the middle of me floor - his one and only time in the 2 1/2 years i've had him of not going in the litter box. He was fanintic about using the litter box. The one time I bought a new box he had a panic attack and woke me up at 3 a.m. Anyway, there was blood in his urine, so I rushed him back to the vet, where I was told there were a couple of things we could try, but the vet didn't have much hope of them working. So last night, at midnight, I had to make the dicision to put my cat, the best cat I have ever known, to sleep, because I could not continue to make him live like this. In one week he went from being just fine to being put to sleep. So right now, I am also a walking fountain.

I was gonna post this last night/earlier this morning, but sleep won out. I have two cats and one of them is more neurotic than the other. His name is Prowler. He is afraid of many things (loud noises, sudden movements, the dishwasher running, the toilet flushing, etc) The funniest thing he is afraid of is doors. I don't know why, but he acts as if we have intentionally slammed him in a door about 10,000 times. His reaction is this, he enters any room through a partialy closed door like Kosmo Kramer a la Seinfeld. He comes running down the hall, slams through the door and skids to a stop while looking over his shoulder at the door as if to say; "Ha! You missed me again!"

He is also afraid of our pet ducks. They live outside in the yard and they know he is afraid. Therefore they chase him. The other cat, not at all. Cause she doesn't run. We didn't know about the chasing for a while after we got them until one day Prowler walked outside and heard ducks. He took off running for the front gate. The ducks were in hot persuit. His timing was all off as he jumped over the picket fence, giving one of the ducks time to grab his tail.

The result was a freaked out cat stuck between two pickets, front legs on one side, rear on the other and a duck swinging from his tail. He yowlled, the duck quacked and I was laughing so hard at the bizzare situation I couldn't get there fast enough to help him out. Poor buddy cat!

We have a fence to keep ducks in their own part of the yard now, so cats are free to roam the front yard without fear of bad ducks.

Kristie