Feline antics

ljrmillerNovember 14, 2006

I wasn't really sure where to share this, but I find it pretty amusing.

The neighbors have a smallish, very barky, very territorial dog named Tess. Any time we go out to work in our own back garden, there's Tess, lunging at the fence and barking her head off. Okay, mostly barking, not a lot of lunging.

What's so funny is that my cat Grumpy thinks that it's all a big game--he'll go outside when he knows Tess is out, sneak up to the fence and just INSTIGATE. Next thing we know, Tess is going nuts, barking and SERIOUSLY lunging at the fence, with Grumpy sitting on a landscape brick, cheerfully hissing (yes, it's possible), lunging at the fence and reaching his paw through gaps in the fence to try and claw Tess on the nose. Grumpy will actually LOOK for Tess every time he goes out. We don't have the heart to scold Grumpy because it's just soooo comically obnoxious.


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I used to have a cat that was just as bad at instigating!! I also had a norwegian elkhound that we kept on a chain, hooked up to a wire run. Our "sweetheart" cat would sit just outside of his reach, and watch him make an absolute fool of himself, barking up a storm, and hanging himself on his collar! I came home one day to this exact scene, and I decided it was time for some payback, and snapped JD's collar off of him. you NEVER saw a cat SCAT so damn fast!! I'm laughing as I'm typing this! I swear, I thought that dog was going to run right up the tree after her!! It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen! Suffice to say, that was the last time she pulled that crap on the poor dog!!

    Bookmark   November 14, 2006 at 5:51PM
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I've had much the same experience. The neighbors had two big dogs that were allowed out on some sort of a clothes line to do their business. I had a good veiw from my upstairs window to see what was going on. There was a neighborhood cat that knew excacty where their chains stopped and would have the nerve to sit down on the lawn and calmly wash himself just out of reach of the barking dogs.

    Bookmark   November 17, 2006 at 10:34PM
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Our cat was a stray when we got her. She's a small tuxedo cat with a bad attitude. When she was a kitten she used to chase after the neighbor when they walked their little westie-poo. Their dog would yelp because Petunia always whacked the dog on the nose.
Today, she doesn't bother other dogs as much. She does chase our JRT around the yard though.

    Bookmark   November 18, 2006 at 1:32PM
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Well, yesterday was a terrible day for me. My water pump started leaking, so my radiator drained and my car overheated on the way to work. I was very stressed (still am). When I got in from work at about midnight, I remember thinkin as I stuck my key in the door... "It will sure be nice to hold Jasper after such a day. He always takes suck good care of the apartment while I am away. I've never noticed anything "messed up" by him." It's true... for the almost two months we've been here, every time I come home he is innocently greeting me with a quiet purr at the door. Nothing is scratched, or messed up, the "business" stays in the box... everything's good. Well, last night as I turned the light on, I discovered my brand new loaf of bread strewn all about the aparment. The bag in shreds. First time I laughed all day! Thanks Jasper!

    Bookmark   November 20, 2006 at 2:12PM
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LOL, that would never happen here. You need a dog too. Then you would have come home to the wrapper only. Not a bread crumb in sight.
Sorry you had such a bad day. Glad Jasper could cheer you up and hope you enjoyed your ham and cheese sandwich minus the sandwich part. :-)

    Bookmark   November 20, 2006 at 10:17PM
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I thought the cat lovers in here might appreciate this story I received in my email:

Oscar, the Garbage-Can Kitty
Unlike his 'Sesame Street' namesake, this stray cat was no grouch.
By Kathleen Kennedy

Oscar was named after the Sesame Street character who lives in a garbage can because that is where we first became acquainted. I was working at a pizza-delivery chain and had been assigned garbage duty. While tossing bags into a Dumpster, I heard a faint meow. I began digging through the trash, and several layers down I found a cat--bruised and thin. I wasn't sure if the cat had crawled into the Dumpster to scavenge for food or if he had been put there purposely. Our establishment sat directly behind an apartment complex, and unsupervised and abandoned pets were common.

Back on solid ground, it became evident that the cat had an injured leg. He couldn't put any weight on his right hindquarters. The situation created a dilemma for me. Finances were tight, and I was moving back home to my parents' house--with two cats already in tow. Dad barely tolerated the two established felines. His reaction to another injured stray was sure to be less than receptive.

I took the stray to the vet, hoping to patch him up. After shots and X-rays, the vet discovered the cat had a cracked pelvis. I posted notices, hoping someone would claim the cat or adopt him.

Meanwhile, the response at home was swift and firm: No more cats! Dad insisted I take the cat to the Humane Society immediately. I protested that the cat would be put to sleep. Luckily, my mother intervened. She agreed the injury would make the cat unadoptable, so we would keep him long enough for his hip to heal. Then he would have to go--no arguments.

Oscar must have somehow understood his situation. He seemed to study the other two cats and their interactions with my father. We suspect he bribed Tanner, our golden retriever, with table scraps in exchange for etiquette lessons. When the other cats were aloof, Oscar was attentive. He came when his name was called, and he would roll over on his back to have his belly scratched. As his injury began to heal, he would jump on the ottoman by my father's favorite chair, and, eventually, into his lap. Initially, Dad pushed Oscar away, but persistence paid off. Soon, Oscar and a muttering Dad shared the chair.

At mealtimes, Oscar would come to sit with us. Positioned on the floor by my father's chair, every so often Oscar would reach up with one paw and tap Dad on the knee. At first, this provoked great irritation and colorful expletives expressed in harsh tones. Oscar, however, refused to be put off. Repetitive knee-taps soon led to semi-covert handouts of choice morsels.

Oscar greeted my father at the top of the stairs every morning and waited for him at the door every evening. My father sometimes ignored Oscar, and, at other times, stepped over him, complaining the whole time. Oscar mastered opening doors by sticking his paw underneath the door and rocking it back and forth until it opened. Soon, he was sleeping in the master bedroom at the foot of the bed. My father was completely disgusted, but couldn't stop the cat from sneaking onto the bed while they were sleeping. Eventually, Dad gave up.

Before long, Oscar, aspiring to his own place at the table during meals, began jumping up into my lap. He was allowed to stay as long as his head remained below table level. Of course, an occasional paw would appear as a reminder of his presence.

Three months passed, and the vet pronounced Oscar healthy and healed. I was heartbroken. How could I take this loving soul away from what had become his home, from the people he trusted? Sick at heart, I brought Oscar home and told my parents what should have been good news: Oscar was a healthy cat with a healed hip. "I'll take him to the Humane Society like I promised," I said dully.

As I turned to put Oscar in the carrier for the trip, my father spoke, uttering three magic words: "Not my cat!"

Oscar is home to stay. He now has his own chair at the table and sleeps--where else?--in the master bedroom between my mother and father. He is their official "grand-kitten" and living proof that deep within the most unlikely heart, there is a cat lover in all of us.

    Bookmark   November 24, 2006 at 2:07PM
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Great story, Bill.

    Bookmark   November 29, 2006 at 2:50AM
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Thank you for that wonderful story, Bill. Oh, the power of animals to open the human heart!

Nice to see you showing another facet of your life, away from your usual forums!

    Bookmark   November 29, 2006 at 12:19PM
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Well yesterday was a terrible day for me. I was off running errands and was just annoyed with traffic and people in general. I came home to make some lunch. 2 Bratwhursts on the George Forman. I ate one, turned on an I Love Lucy DVD and vegged out. 30 minutes later, I looked up to find my innocent angel up on the counter "stealing" my other Bratwhurst from the grill and running across the kitchen floor carrying the whole thing in his tiny mouth. I snatched it from him and threw it in the garbage pail and let him know in no uncertain terms that he is not to take any food that isn't offered to him. It's funny now, yesterday I was mad. It's my fault for leaving it out, but he isn't allowed on the kitchen counter anyway. Wonder what next!

    Bookmark   November 30, 2006 at 4:49PM
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Next will be... you'll not just catch him with the bratwhurst, he'll have your bread again and be fixing himself a sandwich. Can he get to your mustard? :-)

    Bookmark   November 30, 2006 at 5:44PM
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I've taken in my neighbors cat, a stumpy-legged little thing. My long and lean Siamese is okay with her -- as long as she doesn't sit in his sun spot, sniff his bed, or otherwise touch anything he's already staked out as his -- which is pretty much the whole apartment!

For some reason I have a large decorative planter (empty) sitting in the middle of the hallway. After sizing Chloe up, Frankie has taken to dumping his favorite toys in there. Chloe tries to look in, but she's so short she can barely peer over the edge. Frankie's got long legs and dexterous paws, so it's nothing for him to reach in and flip out the toy he wants. He plays with it for a while, then carefully carries it over and dumps it back in the planter so she can't get it.

It's a miracle! A cat who puts away his own toys!

    Bookmark   November 30, 2006 at 9:57PM
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