Well this sucked

[SeaCat]

I know that I have mentioned the hell one of my cats, Smokey, went through.

Well this morning I climbed out of bed when the alarm went off and saw her stretched out full length on my dresser. I went over and gave her a good morning scratch which she responded to with a purr. Then, even as I scratched her she twitched and deposited a "gift" on the top of my dresser. She had absolutely no control over this.

Even so she moved to the corner of the dresser and watched as I cleaned up the mess. She flinched away from me, expecting to be punished.

It took a while but I finally coaxed her out from behind the fan. It took a bit of scratching before she alowed me to pick her up. When I did pick her up I made a beeline for the bathroom, I knew what was coming next. Sure enough as I held her her body twicthed again and she expelled even more waste. (This time I was holding her and had her placed over the toilet.)

I don't punish her for this, I can't! I know the reasons behind her incontenance just as I know she knows what is going n and can't help herself.

Oh how I wish I could get my hands on the Vet that caused this. I would make him pay as she does.

Smokey and I have created a routine. I carry her into the bathroom twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the evening. She allows this and usually it works. (When it doesn't, well shit happens.)

I can't, I refuse to have her put down for this. She is only eight years old.

She is a loving cat, to those she knows. When we took in Critters Kittens she adopted one of them. (Scrapper) Even now there are morning when I find her stretched out with Scrapper sleeping beside her. (She tolerates the others.)

Cat

 

[rgraham666]

Crap.

Bummer Cat. *HUGS* for you and Smokey.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Cat have you thought of these before?
http://www.petdiapers.com/

 

[SlickTony]

Yikes. What did the vet do to her--cause some kind of neurological damage? Poor kitty.

Now the one I have does it on purpose. If she wasn't so pretty, and if it weren't that we've never, ever had a cat adoption fail on us before, her red ass would have been on its way back to that cat shelter in Ortega where we got her, two years ago.

 

[SeaCat]

Yikes. What did the vet do to her--cause some kind of neurological damage? Poor kitty.

Now the one I have does it on purpose. If she wasn't so pretty, and if it weren't that we've never, ever had a cat adoption fail on us before, her red ass would have been on its way back to that cat shelter in Ortega where we got her, two years ago.

I mentioned this in another thread, but.

we dropped Smokey off to get fixed. The Vet decided that she needed more than just this.

He fixed her all right, as well as removed her front claws. (Breaking one of her front legs in the process.) Fixed her hell, he gutted her.

She ended up with a major infection. We took her to a local Pet Clinic where they took care of her, to the tune of $5K. (Yep we sued the Vet and got the money to pay for the bills, as well as getting his liscence revoked in Florida.) She survived but from that day on she has been incontinent.

Smokey is our first cat. I rescued her from a shut down Crack House when she was a kitten. I had to bottle feed her. She moved to Florida with us and shared our tent. Then this Vet got his hands on her. (Before the Vet she was the perfect cat.)

I refuse to have her put down. She is a loving cat, even though she is not trusting of strangers. She sleeps on my dresser, which I have refinished with a surface that allows easy clean up. She can't help herself, which I know and understand. (Even though she seems to expect to be punished.)

Cat

 

[TE999]

Awww. That's sad.

I remember the post you did on that farkin' vet. Someone should pull his ass out through his nose.

We had a female once who hated company, I mean, anyone in the house other than family. She'd run and hide where we couldn't find her, then creep out and whizz in the corners of the dining room.

We'd clean up, but repeated applications soaked into the subfloor and when it rained, phew.

When we sold the place, we made sure the agent showed the place on sunny days. She had a cat and understood.

I often wonder what the new owners thought when it rained.

 

[SlickTony]

Awww. That's sad.

I remember the post you did on that farkin' vet. Someone should pull his ass out through his nose.

We had a female once who hated company, I mean, anyone in the house other than family. She'd run and hide where we couldn't find her, then creep out and whizz in the corners of the dining room.

We'd clean up, but repeated applications soaked into the subfloor and when it rained, phew.

When we sold the place, we made sure the agent showed the place on sunny days. She had a cat and understood.

I often wonder what the new owners thought when it rained.

Heh. The first apartment that we lived in after we got married (the one I'd rented by myself proving to be too small once my husband moved his stuff into it) had this carpet that must have borne the effluvia of dozens of previous tenants and their unhousebroken children and pets. This became obvious when we had a very hard rain--the edge of a small wet hurricane--in conjunction with a piece of the sewer line breaking and falling athwart the passage, causing water to ooze into the apartment. There was an inch of water. When the water receded--pheww! We had to wait a week until maintenance got around to water-vaccing it and replacing the pad, during which time we ate out because I could not bear to cook and eat inside the apartment.

Sea Cat, it's not as easy to search for a specific archived thread in this forum as in some of the others I hang out in--what did the vet do?

The first cat we ever had was given to me by my husband, a long-legged, big-eyed solid black cat I named Zappa. He came from his aunt Ethel's brood of highly antisocial cats, whom you never saw if they saw you first. He didn't like anyone but me. It was only after ten years that he mellowed enough to accept company.

 

[SlickTony]

I mentioned this in another thread, but.

we dropped Smokey off to get fixed. The Vet decided that she needed more than just this.

He fixed her all right, as well as removed her front claws. (Breaking one of her front legs in the process.) Fixed her hell, he gutted her.

She ended up with a major infection. We took her to a local Pet Clinic where they took care of her, to the tune of $5K. (Yep we sued the Vet and got the money to pay for the bills, as well as getting his liscence revoked in Florida.) She survived but from that day on she has been incontinent.

Smokey is our first cat. I rescued her from a shut down Crack House when she was a kitten. I had to bottle feed her. She moved to Florida with us and shared our tent. Then this Vet got his hands on her. (Before the Vet she was the perfect cat.)

I refuse to have her put down. She is a loving cat, even though she is not trusting of strangers. She sleeps on my dresser, which I have refinished with a surface that allows easy clean up. She can't help herself, which I know and understand. (Even though she seems to expect to be punished.)

Cat

Good God! He presumed to declaw her without specific instructions to do so? (Not that I approve of declawing cats--if your furniture is more important than your cats, have furniture, not cats.) I'm glad you got his license revoked. He should have additionally tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail.

 

[FallingToFly]

Not sure if this will help you smile or not, Cat, but here goes:

My husband finally got his hands on me because my cat died. Now, you have to understand, Zillah stood as tall as a Maine Coon and was all lean muscle, and came froma brood of inbred and utterly neurotic barn cats at the barn I worked for. He hated EVERYONE except me, to the point of ambushing any male who got near me (and he didn't care what breed, but was especially vindictive towards humans) by attacking their genitals with very long, very sharp claws on all four feet and his fangs. He drank an antifreeze leak under my car that had just developed and died. The bf I had at the time not only laughed but pretty much desecrated the body, and I kicked him to the curb (using a shovel strategically placed on his noggin) and then buried my cat.

Enter Monty. My husband got him from a local shelter for me as an engagement present (because I don't wear jewelry), but getting him was a hassle. He had a day left on his time, and the clinic staff flat out told me "You don't want that cat." After ten minutes of very heated argument, I demanded to know why. Turned out the cat had INCURABLE diarrhea, and they had tried everythign (including artificially inducing constipation) to get rid of it- nothing worked. I said I didn't give a damn and named him Montezuma's Revenge. The vet cringed as she filled out the paperwork.

Monty was a gentleman, a perfect mannered cat who thought he was a 13lb Rottweiler. He fought German Shephard K9 units, attacked strangers who dared to come into the house, tried to kill my father in law AND his Yorky (both got too close to the baby) and took baths with me. He walked the floor with me for hours while I was in labor, then curled himself around my neck and rode on my shoulders, panicked that something BAD was happening to Mom. My husband had to pry him off me, throw him across the apratment and slam the door behind us to take me to the hospital- the cat clawed all the paint off the door while we were gone. When my son was born Monty went into Rabid Protection mode, and no one except his father or I could touch the baby without being ripped to shreds. He growled like a dog.

He also had OCD in spades. If he could go outside to do his business, he was perfectly normal, and so was his waste. If he had to use a litter box, he panicked and got so upset he had incurable shits. He never had an accident- the exact opposite. He would use his litter box, grab a piece of newspaper in his teeth, drag the paper over the litter, and tuck it in all the way around the edges of the box, yowling worriedly the whole time. He hated doing his business in the house, that was all.

Monty was a riot- he walked on a leash, came to a whistle, got into a car in the neighborhood and ended up across town for two weeks. One my third visit to the shelter looking for him, someone brought in a screeching refrigerator box duct-taped ten ways to Sunday, and as the staff was opening it, a filthy, oil and grime covered orange and white blur streaked out. I knew who it was, screamed "Monty!" as he wreaked havoc on the office. I whistled, he ended up on my shoulder, five pounds lighter and pissed. Scanned the microchip- yep, that's my cat. My six month old son pulled all the whiskers off one side of his face because I left the cat to guard him in the playpen while I took a shower- the cat never scratched or made a sound, but when I reappeared, he had been plucked, and walked funny for a week.

Monty never complained- he traveled from Daytona to Tallahassee in a sweltering Subaru with no AC in July, sitting on my lap purring. He never even flinched when we had a blowout and ended up fish-tailing (Come on, I used to drag, I wasn't going to spin) into the breakdown lane a few feet ahead of a semi. He slept on my bed when my husband was out of town. He brought me daily offerings, including the neighbor's guinea pig and half the local population of lizards. Once a snake bigger than he was. If he hadn't had an unfortunate accident while boarding with relatives (I was in PA- he got loose from them and made it about halfway home along a major highway- and it was a deliberate thing, there were accelaration and swerve marks where someone ran him over deliberately) he would still be with us.

This is why cat people have cats. They're great, they're crazy, and they OWN us, not the other way around.

 

[TheeGoatPig]

I had an ex show cat that suffered from seasures, couldn't control her defication or unination, and had a couple other problems. We got her late in her life, at around nine years old, and had her until she died at thirteen (I think). We all pretty much cried when she slumped over just outside the living room and let loose.

I'm crying right now, so I'll stop...

 

[Vermilion]

we've had so many cats that I've loved I can't talk about them all, it would take too long, so just quickly I'm going to talk about Amber who has the strangest habits out of the current three.

She's nosy. Like an old lady nosy. She sits on the window sills of the rooms at the front of the house and moves the curtains aside with her paw so she can see what's happening.

She also has a distinctive preference for the male gender. Eg: I had some friends over. There were four or five girls and my boyfriend. Amber walks into the room where we're watching a film, looks round at everyone, then walks straight to the only boy and gets on his lap. Tart.

She sees imaginary bugs and chases them. If the wind blows a certain direction when she's outside her tail does this funny loopy thing and she runs sideways. She tries to take on squirrels that are bigger than her and she gets herself in the funniest positions when she sleeps.

I just wish her sister hadn't been run over when she was two by some idiot boy-racers driving over the pavement.

x
V

 

[SlickTony]

Well, this makes me feel a tad better about Ziba, who is quite possibly the worst cat we've ever had.

 

[SeaCat]

Thanks all. You do make it a bit better.

I am used to nutso cats.

Let me tell you about Max. Short for Mad Max. He earned that name.

Max was found by my father on the side of the road. He was small enough to fit in my hand. Oh what a surprise he was.

We knew he was a wild child even when he was a kitten. I have a picture somehwere of him when he was less than a foot long. I took the picture as he tried to steal a Blue Fish. An 8 pound Blue Fish.

Max grew quickly. He was mean, he was ornery and he thought he was human. When he reached full sized he was a pure white Feline Longhair weighing 40 pounds. That's right, he was 40 pounds of Fur, Fangs and Bad attitude. He came up to my knee.

He didn't allow any dogs into the yard other than my parents fluff ball. He seemed to take great pleasure in shredding dogs. He was more than good at it. He would ambush them as they came into the yard. I can't tell you the number of complaints we received from the nighbors about their dogs being attacked by our cat.

He would not just tolerate my parents dog, he protected her. I have never seen another cat who would curl up around a sick dog as Max did.

I was the only one who could pick up that damned cat. The Vet was scared of him. He would not give him vaccines, instead he would hand me the shots and allow me to do the deed. Max would allow me to do it, although I did eventually pay for it.

Max eventually died. He got into an argument with the Coyotes that were then invading Cape Cod. I found him breathing his last with an honor guard of two. I buried him out back of my parents house and the local Tree Huggers found out about the Coyote Skulls I placed above his grave. They gave us hell for a while but soon backed down.

Cat

 

[SlickTony]

Max and the vet reminds me of my first cat, Zappa. He would let me do anything to him--I used to bathe him in the kitchen sink. He'd let me rinse him with the sink sprayer. And he was easy to pill. Yet I remember him leaving him at the vet to be wormed and when I came back to get him he had a restraining leash around his neck.

That was cool about the coyote skulls.

 

[SeaCat]

Max and the vet reminds me of my first cat, Zappa. He would let me do anything to him--I used to bathe him in the kitchen sink. He'd let me rinse him with the sink sprayer. And he was easy to pill. Yet I remember him leaving him at the vet to be wormed and when I came back to get him he had a restraining leash around his neck.

That was cool about the coyote skulls.

I'm liking Zappa.

The skulls are still there. (My father soaked them in resin after they had weathered a bit.)

My brother threatened to remove them and bounced off a wall. The last time my brother visited his son saw the skulls and asked about them. My brother informed my father he was going to throw them out and my father told him he thought that was a bad idea. I might hear about it. (My brother didn't like Max by the way.)

Cat

 

[SlickTony]

I'm liking Zappa.

Zappa was a lovely cat. He was one of my husband's aunt Ethel's great brood of antisocial cats whom you never saw if they saw you first. He was a plain old black cat with no special provenance, but he was beautiful. He was tall and rangy and highly glossy. He carried his tail low and horizontal, like one of the big cats, and his eyes were so large and wide-spaced, they made all other cats' eyes look small and close-set by comparison. He lived to be almost 19.

Part of the reason I am so fond of my present black cat, Doc, is the things he has in common with Zappa--the gloss of his coat, and the fact that I'm his favorite person.

 

[SeaCat]

Zappa was a lovely cat. He was one of my husband's aunt Ethel's great brood of antisocial cats whom you never saw if they saw you first. He was a plain old black cat with no special provenance, but he was beautiful. He was tall and rangy and highly glossy. He carried his tail low and horizontal, like one of the big cats, and his eyes were so large and wide-spaced, they made all other cats' eyes look small and close-set by comparison. He lived to be almost 19.

Part of the reason I am so fond of my present black cat, Doc, is the things he has in common with Zappa--the gloss of his coat, and the fact that I'm his favorite person.

LOL

Well I've described Smokey the Anti-Social Crack Kitty.

Now let me try to describe Bubba.

Bubba Shay is a 17 pound reverse colored SealPoint Siamese. He came into our lives a couple of years ago when one of my Nurse Externs began having problems. He B/F of the time had just bought a PitBull Puppy that didn't like Bubba. He continually attacked Bubba who couldn't defend himself because he had no front claws.

The Extern was informed b the B/F that if Bubba didn't leave he would become Puppy Chow. She told me about this and showed me a picture of Bubba and I was surprised at his looks. Such a regal looking cat. I knew that at his age and size he wouldn't be adopted so I told her to bring him over.

Bubba lived under the couch for more than a week. Then we had Sokey Fixed with the resultant injury. One morning my wife found Bubba curled up around Smokey when she was at her sickest. He refused to let her alone even when she swiped at him. He picked up some scars but he was always there. He actually tried to hide it when she defecated on the floor.

We call him Bubba because he is just this large, goofy, Happy-go-lucky cat.

He likes to wake me up in the middle of the bight so he can get attention. His method of waking me? At first he batts at me with his front paws. If that doesn't work then he Head Butts me until I wake up. All it takes then is a short scratch and he stretches out between our pillows and goes to sleep.

More on the other cats later.

Cat

 

[SlickTony]

Aw, what a sweet fellow!

I don't see why people have their cats declawed. Kinky Friedman, who ran for governor in Texas, said that if he were elected he would make it illegal to declaw cats. If I'd lived in Texas, I'd've voted for him.

Last night my husband and I had gone to bed and were trying to get something accomplished, except that Doc insisted on lying on top of me.

Now, Ziba is a sneaky cat. When she comes purring and snortling up under my chin, it doesn't necessarily mean affection; it means she's trying to pull my cross pendant off its chain. Yesterday morning she bit my earlobes, trying to get the earrings. I had to hide my head under the covers.

 

[lipsofanangel]

All these stories about cats are making me sad. My gf and I rescued a shivering little furball last week because we had idiots inspecting our townhouses and somehow he'd gotten outside. We knew he belonged to the neighbors but apparently, they had decided to never come home so we took him in. And in three days I became more attached to that cat than I've been attached to anything in a long time (my woman doesn't count).

The owners finally came home Saturday and I brought the baby over. Do you think they even thanked us? Nothing, not a darn thing. The little kids were really happy but the woman who we talked to about the fact that we had her cat? Wouldn't even come to the door.

Once I get my tax return in, I'm getting a cat of my own. I can't wait!

 

[SeaCat]

All these stories about cats are making me sad. My gf and I rescued a shivering little furball last week because we had idiots inspecting our townhouses and somehow he'd gotten outside. We knew he belonged to the neighbors but apparently, they had decided to never come home so we took him in. And in three days I became more attached to that cat than I've been attached to anything in a long time (my woman doesn't count).

The owners finally came home Saturday and I brought the baby over. Do you think they even thanked us? Nothing, not a darn thing. The little kids were really happy but the woman who we talked to about the fact that we had her cat? Wouldn't even come to the door.

Once I get my tax return in, I'm getting a cat of my own. I can't wait!

Lips,

Go to a city or county pound, a place where they kill them after a short while.

Get into the area where the cats can run free and just wait and watch. One of them will come up to you. It may not be the one who is cutest, it may not be the most beautiful of the lot, but that doesn't matter. The one who comes up to you and gives you a lick, the one who wont leave your side, that is the one for you.

Cats are highly individual, they have a great sense of self. They chose their owners/slaves.

Cat

 

[SeaCat]

Okay,

Let me start on the new cats.

Critter is the mother of them all. She is a smaller Black and White female with the attitude of a Tom. She will fight anyone and anything.

She started hanging around our place, creeping in to visit me in the carport when I went out there to have a smoke. I watched as she slowly grew around the middle and started moving slower. She also became friendlier, she would hop up into my lap and allow my wife to scratch her. Soon she started hopping up onto the car and sleeping there during the night. During the day she somehow made her way on top of the cabinets built into the carport and would wait there for us to come home.

Soon it became apparent that she couldn't climb onto either the car or the cabinets, and it was getting colder out. I set a box out for her with a couple of towels in it. She took up residence in there, coming out only to do her bussiness or to greet me and my wife. (Yes we finally did set out food and water for her.)

We knew she was going to have kittens, we didn't want or need any more cats so our plans were to allow her to have them in the car port and when they grew old enough to be weaned safely we would transport all of them to a shelter. Mama was a loving cat, unlike many of the ferals around us.

One afternoon I came out into the garage to hear her ptiful sounds and when I looked into the box I watched as she gave birth to four kittens. I waited for her to clean them then changed out the towels, giving them a clean place to remain in.

That evening I was sitting at the computer when I heard screechng and yowling coming from the carport. I headed out to investigate, thinking it was some of the local kids giving the cats a hard time. Instead I was confronted by Mama cat holding off a full grown racoon. I loath Racoons. This one was spitting and snarling and trying to get into the box with the kittens, which had been knocked over. I charged out to join the battle. I grabbed an edging hatchet sitting next to the door, one I had recently received from my father and hadn't put away yet. With that in one hand a Rotisery skewer from the BBQ in the other hand I attacked.

When I came back from tossing the Racoon into the Intercoastal I found Mama gathering up her kittens, they had been scattered by the fighting. I helped and found one of them, a little black fluff, was injured.

I talked it over with my wife and moved them into the back room. My wife said Mama was one tough Critter and the name stuck. In a forlorn hope I also placed a spare Litter box in the back room. (Forelorn hope because she was a Feral.) Much to my surprise Critter immediatly started using the litter box. This told me she wasn't a Feral but was a throw away.

I checked Critter for injuries and she suffered my handling her without protest. She was uninjured.

Little Smudge didn't make it though. He hung on for a while but his injuries were just too much. I ended up burying him out back.

The other Kittens were just fine though. Three little balls of fluff. A Black and white and two Calico's.

More on them later.

Cat

 

[SlickTony]

I like reading your cat stories.

If you catch a feral cat early enough, he/she will take to the box naturally. Il Grigio, the Russian-Blue-but-not-really, was feral--he'd never been inside a house in all his life until we snatched him up and brought him in. He took to using the box as if he'd been raised underfoot.

When my husband comes down to get his cup of coffee and to feed the cats, Il Grigio rolls on his back because he expects his tummy to get rubbed. It's like inside this so-called feral cat was a housecat fighting to get out.

 

[SeaCat]

I like reading your cat stories.

If you catch a feral cat early enough, he/she will take to the box naturally. Il Grigio, the Russian-Blue-but-not-really, was feral--he'd never been inside a house in all his life until we snatched him up and brought him in. He took to using the box as if he'd been raised underfoot.

When my husband comes down to get his cup of coffee and to feed the cats, Il Grigio rolls on his back because he expects his tummy to get rubbed. It's like inside this so-called feral cat was a housecat fighting to get out.

Look at the What makes you feel stupid thread to read the ultimate cat story. Oh and his name was Wilderness. Go figure.

Cat

 

[SeaCat]

Okay, now the kittens.

The first is Magellin.

He is a male and is blakc and white like his mother. We called him Maggelin because as soon as his eyes opened he started exploring. He would crawl ross the floor and poke his nose into whatever he ould find. Often I would be called into the back room by Critters cries as she looked for him. I would find him trapped somehwere and have to pull him out.

Black and white like his mother, yet with a black nose and sharp face. He continues to poke his nose into everything. When my wife and I come home he is right there checking out our bags. He is a loving guy and yet he also loves to spray his mark.

Recently we took him to the vet to be fixed. Oh this horny boy didn't like that. He came home confused and hurting. He sent more time in my lap than ever before.

Now he spends his time looking out the front window, just watchung the traffic as it goes by. If he isn't there then he's playing tag with the other cats or curled up on our laps. He has no interest in going outside, he just likes to watch the traffic.

His favorite food? Cheese.

Cat