The cat tales thread

JagFarlane

Gone Hiking
Joined
Apr 14, 2003
Posts
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I've noticed over the months, that quite a few people here have cats residing in their home, leading to often hilarious stories of their adventures. So, figured having a thread dedicated to these feline roommates may prove to be a nice spot to share/swap stories.

Little background on the cats I'll mention here:

Pumpkin, 3yr old, white, tomcat, 14lbs, previously a stray till he adopted Josh. With Josh gone on an underway, he's adopted me for the time being.

Ash, 4yr old, tabby/grey, female, 8lbs, previously a stray till she adopted Cherish, then, when Cherish [and her husband] were living here, she became Pumpkins playmate/adopted Josh, tolerant of me.

Kalana, 3yr old, orange, female, 6lbs, previously a stray till she adopted Cherish. Took right to me while Cherish and hubby resided here.

Pumpkin, I've found, is actually the easier of the two to please. All he really wants is food [preferably of the poultry flavor], a little bit of attention, a windowsill to watch the world, a comfy place to sleep, and a little playtime.

Ash, I'm not quite sure what to make of her. She doesn't like cat treats, seems to tolerate being caressed with little scratches in the usual right spots, hates being held, but loves it when you catch her out of mid-air and grab her up [the only time I hear her purr]. She tends to hide away for comfy places to sleep [though this morning, she's decided my couch is a comfy place to crash], of course loves the windowsills, and bugs the crap out of me to let her outside to play [Josh doesn't want the cats outside while he's gone, of which Pumpkin has not given me a problem at all, she has though].

Kalana, the little cat that is so attached to me, that when I call up Cherish to shoot the shit, she'll find herself having a very friendly little kitty rubbing up against the phone. I'd probably adopt her [Cherish has offered her], but Josh isn't so into the idea of another cat in the house, again [When Cherish moved in, she had brought 3 cats; Ash, Kalana, and Tika].
 
I have 2.

Cat 1:
A 15 pound tabby tom. He's a half-way cat. Half cat, half dog. Yeah. I know what you're thinking, but give me a second. He goes out the dog door, and hunts in tandem with my two dogs. He flushes the birds out of the trees, they pounce. I swear he thinks he's part of a dog pack.

He waits up for me to pull in. Even if it's late, he's sitting by the garage waiting for me to get home.

He greets guests at the door and lets anyone pet him... much more like those slutty dogs. He DEMANDS attention by either knocking things off furniture when you've igorned him, or by laying on top of whatever you happen to be working on. Sometimes he's attached himself to my leg while I'm walking.

He eats anything I feed him, including dog food (actually he's much less picky than the dogs).

Cat 2:
6 pounds (full grown) and wild. She comes insides and looks at the dogs and cat with disdain. Won't go near that damn smelly dog door. If she wants in she cries, and like a good human servant, I let her in. She's beautiful and delicate: white angora long fur, stunning blue eyes. She's that delicate little supermodel cat that everyone goes awwwwww. But she's a bitch!

I may have a 15 pound tom around, but she's the one who kicks ass and takes names. The dogs better get out of her way. She has a thing for playing with my diamond jewelry so I assume she has expensive taste, too. Not too keen on being trapped inside, she's a nature girl all the way. Much prefers the taste of crickets to the dry food I offer, but she's a little slut when the canned junk food Friskies comes out.

So there you have it. In the world of 2 cats and 2 dogs, those are my feline monsters.
 
I have 2.

Cat 1:
A 15 pound tabby tom. He's a half-way cat. Half cat, half dog. Yeah. I know what you're thinking, but give me a second. He goes out the dog door, and hunts in tandem with my two dogs. He flushes the birds out of the trees, they pounce. I swear he thinks he's part of a dog pack.

He waits up for me to pull in. Even if it's late, he's sitting by the garage waiting for me to get home.

He greets guests at the door and lets anyone pet him... much more like those slutty dogs. He DEMANDS attention by either knocking things off furniture when you've igorned him, or by laying on top of whatever you happen to be working on. Sometimes he's attached himself to my leg while I'm walking.

He eats anything I feed him, including dog food (actually he's much less picky than the dogs).

Cat 2:
6 pounds (full grown) and wild. She comes insides and looks at the dogs and cat with disdain. Won't go near that damn smelly dog door. If she wants in she cries, and like a good human servant, I let her in. She's beautiful and delicate: white angora long fur, stunning blue eyes. She's that delicate little supermodel cat that everyone goes awwwwww. But she's a bitch!

I may have a 15 pound tom around, but she's the one who kicks ass and takes names. The dogs better get out of her way. She has a thing for playing with my diamond jewelry so I assume she has expensive taste, too. Not too keen on being trapped inside, she's a nature girl all the way. Much prefers the taste of crickets to the dry food I offer, but she's a little slut when the canned junk food Friskies comes out.

So there you have it. In the world of 2 cats and 2 dogs, those are my feline monsters.

LOL reminds me of the two here.

Pumpkin is usually to be found in the window, waiting for when I get home. He'll greet guests at the door and wait till he gets his ears scratched, then go on his way. He's been known to jump on my chest when I'm laying down...or his favorite...lay on my keyboard when he wants attention. And when I break out the Friskies cans...hooboy that cat can hear em open anywheres in the house and comes a runnin. But he is definatly the one whom kicks ass, and ensures Ash knows that he's top cat.

Ash is a bit more like your female. She demands to go outside, and will go to all lengths to escape. And when she's ready to come back in, she cries at the door till someone opens it for her. She's not so much for the canned food, but when the catnip comes out, she's like a crack whore with a dime bag.
 
LOL reminds me of the two here.

Pumpkin is usually to be found in the window, waiting for when I get home. He'll greet guests at the door and wait till he gets his ears scratched, then go on his way. He's been known to jump on my chest when I'm laying down...or his favorite...lay on my keyboard when he wants attention. And when I break out the Friskies cans...hooboy that cat can hear em open anywheres in the house and comes a runnin. But he is definatly the one whom kicks ass, and ensures Ash knows that he's top cat.

Ash is a bit more like your female. She demands to go outside, and will go to all lengths to escape. And when she's ready to come back in, she cries at the door till someone opens it for her. She's not so much for the canned food, but when the catnip comes out, she's like a crack whore with a dime bag.

Nice. Neither of mine go for the "nip." I say it's due to my excellent parenting skills.

However, if that was the case, the damn huskies would keep off the couch when I'm gone. (They haven't figured out that when they jump in the pool and then climb on the couch they leave a wet spot. I catch them every time.) :D
 
Of my three cats, two like Feline Greenies, those cat treats that are supposed to be good for a cat's teeth. I got Greenies for my other cat, whose medical report said he had mild gingivitis and might ought to have his teeth cleaned.

A teeth cleaning is generally expensive, because of the cat needing to be put out first.

Therefor, I got the Greenies for Doc.

Ziba and Il Grigio are crazy about them. Ziba will come running if she hears you opening a package that might conceivably have Greenies in it, and if you offer her one she'll snap your fingertips taking it. Il Grigio, on the other hand, will take the Greenie as gently and decorously as if he were accepting the Communion Host.

Doc, for whom the Greenies were purchased in the first place? Absolutely no interest. Now, if you were to offer him cubes of mortadella....
 
Five cats here.
Randall is the alpha (most of the time). He's a ginger and white tabby, about 16lb supposed to be 1/4 Burmese, 1/4 British Longhair and 1/2 feral tomcat. He doesn't mind a pat, hates being picked up and prefers to sleep in toolboxes, or bozes of Lego. He is an excellent ratter and scared of absolutely nothing, except thunderstorms and domestic hens!
He will also cheerfully take your hand off for a bit of blueberry muffin (other flavours will suffice, but blueberry is his favourite).

Juliet is a Chocolate Burmese, a "retired" breeding queen. She is tiny, about 6lbs, neurotic, likes cupboards, hates the other cats but doesn't have the body weight to back it up and is slowly losing her teeth. She is scared of everything and is my snuggle bunny.

Pantene is a blow-in. Black, permanently cranky and nominally my daughter's. She is also small, but not as small as Juliet (who used to flog her mercilessly when she was a kitten). She climbed over the front fence as a tiny kitten two and a half years ago and has been with us ever since. She likes to help me hang out the washing by winding around my legs so I trip over her. She likes catching and torturing small birds and mice.

Billy and Harry are the youngest. We found them together, about six weeks old, abandoned at a picnic ground just after Christmas 18 months ago.
Billy is a grey tabby with a happy smile and a delightfully loving nature. He is timid with the other cats and tends to eat last, unless Harry is there, then he'll push in. Billy is the one who chased home a brown snake last summer.

Harry is longhaired, black and white and the alpha idiot. Ever heard the expression "Dumb eager"? Well that's Harry. He is trying to become top cat, but as long as Randall is around that will never happen. He's fun loving, just loves pummelling sleeping cats and doesn't understand why the others can't stand him (except Billy, and even he has his moments). He also likes galloping around on the roof - we're just waiting for him to slide off one frosty morning.

All cats are desexed and have access to the great outdoors. Juliet rarely goes out. The others roam at will. Harry generally carts around half his body weight in grass seeds, burrs and sometimes mud. He suffers being brushed but it ruins his manly image.
 
Harry generally carts around half his body weight in grass seeds, burrs and sometimes mud. He suffers being brushed but it ruins his manly image.

I love it. My tom is working on a butt burr... you know where the fur gets tangled clumped and you have to cut it to get it off. He's got one of those on his rump. I keep trying to catch him and hold him down to cut it off, but he looks at me like

"Have you no shame human?"
 
Hehehe Pumpkin, for the longest time, when he got brushed, would automatically roll over so he could chew away on the brush. Slowly but surely though, he's learning he likes his back getting brushed out...tummy though, its chew toy time.
 
At one point my parents had these four cats. The smallest one was a Tortie who probably didn't weigh as much as 6 lbs, but she still managed to bully all the other cats, who were all much bigger than she was. So weight doesn't necessarily mean much--force of personality does.

The first cats I had after I got married (the 2nd time, the first time I had no pets) were Zappa and Pete. Zappa was solid black, tall and rangy, with a 13" long tail and brass-colored eyes that were so large and wide-set that they made other cats' eyes look small and close together. When he was about 6 months old we acquired another cat--a friend of mine needed to get rid of her cat because her stepdaughter was allergic and diabetic and the doctors were afraid that a bad reaction might make blind her. We brought him home from a party at her house. He was one of these gray spotty/stripy tabbies with a buff undercoat that in some lights made him look faintly green. Even though he had a white bib and paws and white wildcat rims around his martini-olive-green eyes, this tabby coat made him virtually invisible if he lay in dappled sunlight. He was a great hunter and killed all sorts of things--ate them, too.

Zappa loved me. I was his favorite person. I could do anything for him--pill him, comb him for upwards of an hour for fleas, even wash him. He tolerated everybody else. He was terribly scared of thunderstorms--when he was young, he would hide so thoroughly nobody could find him. Pete would come trotting in at the beginning of a shower, his coat lightly misted over with rain. It was years before Zappa figured out that thunderstorms wouldn't hurt him. Even in later years he would get in the middle of the house. At least we knew where we ought to get if there was a tornado.

Zap reacted as you might expect when Pete came to us, but later they became great buddies. You'd come home from work on a nasty, cold, raw, wet day, and there they'd be in one chair--a black and gray puddle with a pair of green eyes and a pair of yellow-gold eyes in it. They'd cuddle cheek-to-cheek, as if they were posing for a Christmas card. Zappa would come tell us if Pete had fallen asleep in the linen closet and needed to be let out, or if Pete had been outside and needed to be let in.

Pete insisted on his right to go in and out, and once stayed gone for a week to hammer home his point. He eluded the fate of many outside cats until he was 11, and then he was killed in Lake Charles, LA, on a street where the speed limit was 35 mph and everyone habitually went 50. Zappa never had another buddy after that. Zandra, who came after Pete about a year later, he tolerated. He died at almost 19.

I've never had cats who were good buddies after that. Presently I have 3 cats who just put up with each other. I keep hoping that Doc and Il Grigio will become buddies but since it hasn't happened in a year and a half it probably never will. Neither of them particularly cares for Ziba, who tries to bully both of them. Just about a week ago, Ziba and Doc came scuffling and caterwauling up the stairs into the bedroom. My husband made them quit. The next morning I found all these tufts of black hair--all Doc's--on the floor.

Like Zappa, Doc likes me best. He is currently purring on my lap and flexing one of his paws into my left arm. I wish he wouldn't, but it beats him stomping on the keyboard while I'm trying to post.
 
Ok, here are mine:

Smokey: Grey with black and white. She's my Pretty Kitty Princess. Meanest cat ever unless she loves you (Like she loves me).

Reggie: White with Black and has the bushiest tail ever. He's a diva, and just exudes this regal gracefulness. He's also really lazy, usually going no more than two feet before lying down. His eyes are almost always half closed, which makes him look dopey and half-asleep all the time.

Roscoe: Solid back. He's my sister's cat and the newbie of the family. He has a weird deformed tail that's really short and is in the form of an "N" It's really weird to see it twitch. He's also really hyper and is constantly getting into trouble. He runs away from everyone except my sisters, and since our floors are tiled you can here him running when his claws scratch against it. This is often accompanied by a thud since he can't get traction and crashes into the wall or hallway doors.
 
I grew up with Banchee a very dominant Siamese. She ruled the roost most definately and my favorite story about her growing up was the time she beat the living shit out of the cat killing laborador from up the street. Although it is true that they have their one person. She was a good family cat but when my brother was born he became HERS. He was her special person.

Currently we have Oliver and Tinkerbell, brother and sister adopted when they were about 2 1/2 months old.

Oliver is a beautiful grey color with white legs and belly. He is obnoxious when it comes to getting attention.

Tinkerbell is a brown tigerstripe with white belly and legs. She is also about 1/2 of her brothers size.

I have never understood why these two cats (in particular) have to pace when they get petted. I really miss having a lap cat.
 
Those first two cats I mentioned had a lovely game--if you piled up all the newspapers preparatory to taking them to a paper drive, they liked to take a running jump at them, land, and make them go out in a line like a card dealer laying out a line of cards. Made a mess, but did they ever have fun!
 
Lilly is 1 year old next month and acts like a teenager.

It took her 3 days to work out how to open all the doors in my house.

A week to work out if she sits on my laptop I have no option but to pet her.

Another week to work out if she sits on top of the tv while I'm watching and swings her tail over the screen I'll come and pick her up.

Two months to work out where she's not allowed to be.

Two days after that ^ to work out if she goes there anyway she'll get my undivided attention.

Knowing that when I go out she can open the door to my room and knock everything off my dresser came automatically with project 'open door'

Oh, and yes, the pinnacle of her career as my pet is if she somehow gets her jaws around my ipod I'll play tag with her :(


So why do I put up with her?

http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n303/xeffigyx/07-10-07_1551-1.jpg
 
Very cute!

About five years ago I developed an allergy to cats, and had to get rid of mine.
my mom keeps her company. So, I still get to see her on occasion.

She looks like she stepped in milk and has a white belly. She has the stripes of a tiger, except their black. Then she has spots of brown and orange all mixed together. Somehow she manages to look like a halloween racoon. Cutest cat ever. Swims in the pool, Toilet and tub.
 
My cat's a 8 yr old boy who loves to sleep! He also demands his food at anytime of day even though I do have feeding times for him (He's on a maintaining diet) He loooves my porch off of my apartment and loves to go for walks when its not to hot.
 
Any cat will tell you that it ought to be right there in the Constitution: There shall be no closed doors, anywhere.
 
OKay, the cats I have lived with.

As a kid we had Shadow who was supposed to be my sisters cat. He was a dark gray fluff ball who refused to go out side and seemed to love me. He avoided my sister and brother.

Later we had Ajax and Saphire. Twins in white long hair. Saphire was named because of blue eyes. They moved through several states with us before going to the Rainbow Bridge due to age.

Then we had Max. Max was a foundling who was small enough to fit in my hand as a kitten. Max grew as he aged and soon became a monster. In other words he grew into his name. He was a snow white persian who tipped the scales at 40 pounds with no fat. He literaly came up to my knees and would fight anything that came into the yard. I was his human. I could do anything to him and he didn't complain but if anyone else did more than pet him watch out. His two idiosyncrities. He loved vanilla pudding, (My fathers favorite.) and would wait for my father to finish his pudding. If my father didn't give him the bowl to lick he would attack. His other was my parents dog. The dog was this five pound fluff ball with the brains of a walnut. The cat would play with and even deign to sleep with it on cold nights. Max lived to something like 13 then got into an argument about territory with a den of CoyDogs.

Now there are five felines living in my household, (six if you count me.) I have described them on several occasions here.

Cat
 
When I got home from work this evening I was hot, tired and a bit cranky.

Walking into our place we were greeted by Smokey sitting on the fridge wanting some attention. Magi and his sisters Squeek and Scrapper were weaving around our legs but avoiding our scratches. (This is not unusual for Magi.) Bubba was just there wanting attention, any attention.

I get changed and sit down at the computer. I'm still a bit cranky. The other cats are avoiding me but Magi comes up and starts yowling. Finally I push back from the computer a bit and he hops into my lap. He's wanting attention like you wouldn't believe. If I start to type he starts pushing his head against my arms and yowling again.

After scratching him a bit he stands in my lap with his forpaws on my shoulder and nuzzles against me while purring. Finally he curls up in my lap while purring. I can feel myself calming down as I scratch him. Every time I stop scratching him to type he reaches out with his paws and grabs a hand.

Here we call this Purr Therapy. Our cats seem to know when we need some attention and insist of giving it to us.

Now Magi is curled up behind the computer and watching me. I know that when I crawl into bed he will be joining me. (My wife has gone to bed and Scrapper has joined her.)

By the time I have been in bed for an hour the bed will be filled with feline love.

Scrapper will mst likely be stretched out between our pillows. Squeek will be on either my wifes chest or mine. Magi will be sprawled on the foot of the bed attacking our feet when we move too much. Bubba will find someplace between us to stretch out.

Smokey on the other hand will be stretched out on top of the fridge. She will show us her love tomorrow morning when we get up. I will be greeted by her when I wander into the kitchen to pour our morning coffee. She will then follow me into the bathroom where I will set my wifes coffee as she takes her shower. She will stay in the bathroom until my shower is finished then she will return to her perch on the fridge.

Cat
 
Poor Max. I'd like to think that those nasty coydogs didn't come away completely unscathed.

It's hard to lose a cat. I've lost two cats since coming to this forum:

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=172437 (Zandra)

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=208071 (Zoey, the cat who used to be my avatar)

You haven't completely lost them if you can still tell stories on them.

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

Cat
 
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