Clare the Wonder Cat
Our Clare is a tabby/Maine Coon mix; for those of you who don't know the breed, Maines get big. She weighs in at ninteen pounds and is the picture of health according to her vet, whose own Maine weighs 23 pounds.

She is spoiled to the point where she has her own pressed-glass punch cup on the nightstand to drink out of when she doesn't feel like getting up and going to the water bowl.

She thinks she's my child, it seems, but this is a good thing -- Clare once saved my life, you see.

In our old house, the bed was underneath a built-in bookcase that extended from the ceiling to a few feet above the bed. It was loaded with books and trinkets, including a heavy glass candleholder. This was, in retrospect, probably not the best location for the bed.

One morning, far too early, Clare jumped up on the bed and began meowing at me. I pushed her off only to have her jump up again and paw at me. I thought she wanted to be fed, so I pushed her off again; she got up a third time and began to scratch me! I sat up, ready to be angry with her and that's when the bookcase pulled free from the wall and hit the bed, most of it(heavy glass candleholder included) falling straight on my pillow.

Clare just sat there, purring and looking pleased with herself.

How she knew what was going to happen and realised it would be bad I don't know, but I'm awfully grateful.

She will also play fetch if you throw her toy mouse, but only when she feels like it; she'll bring you the mouse when it's playtime.

Behold the wonder:

(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:34, Reply)

But my sister had dogs
including a very dim greyhound called Lofty...Never ever joined in playing ball games with her other dogs UNTIL playing with a baseball bat and ball he decides to participate the second my sister does a back swing with the bat whacking him in the teeth!!!
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:24, Reply)

Pepper's training.
A coworker lent me a book, called "Smarter than you think," about training your dog to obey.

I read it, and a very interesting idea was to let the dog off the leash, then call him. When he doesn't respond, you gently throw something soft at him, he'll smell you on it, and come running to you.

So I tried that with balled up socks. "Pepper come!" then tossed the socks at him.

And it worked! Exactly once.

The next time, I yelled "Pepper come!" He didn't come so I tossed the socks at him. They bounced off his shoulders. He looked at them, sniffed and went back to what he was doing. I pulled him back to me and tried again. I called him and he just looked at me like "what are you yelling at?" The socks bounced off him again and he didn't even look up. The plan was a total dud.

"Smarter than you think?" Smarter than the writer of books and owners, more like.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:23, Reply)

Mostly had cats
My current cat Cassius is a huge black part siamese thing which I got from RSPCA Bawtry..Funny stories-While making breakfast one morning went to get eggs from fridge, while I was gone Cassius managed to get bacon from scolding hot frying pan and eat it. One evening brought in a huge live dove through the cat flap, as said bird was still alive and viable tried to rescue it...Cassius promptly legs it into the night...About 3 hours later am playing on my computer and hear a crunching noise from under the table...yep Cassius has brought now tortured to death dove back in and has started eating it from the head down- had reached the doves shoulders(?).
Also lodger had a mutt called Barney who would steal ANYTHING- the only thing to defeat him was a big pile of ground ginger I had left as a trap...Also knocked and broke a bottle of vodka and lapped up about half remaining booze...Acted very strangely for rest of evening...Finally my lodger had to discipline him severely after he 'ate' his wood elf army and most of my diabetes pills in one evening....


I f*cking hate dogs.... cats rule
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:20, Reply)

Pepper the pillow shredder
My dog Pepper was a border collie/blue healer mix I got as a stray. He was a sweet dog, but he freaked out when alone and took out his frustration by chewing (he completely destroyed his plastic crate and later ate a hole in the drywall).

One day I came home from work to find my apartment covered with feathers. He must have had a grand old time shredding one of my feather pillows and I can just picture the feathers flying as he dragged the pillow all over the apartment.

I started closing my bedroom door when I went to work, and that solved that problem.

One day, I came home from work and noticed a feather near the front door. "Funny," I thought. "I thought I cleaned up all the feathers from the last time he...OH NO!"

At this point Pepper came running down the stairs, feathers wafting off of him. He'd have been in a lot of trouble if it hadn't been so cute.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:12, Reply)

Sheba
When I was growing up, our family dog was "Sheba" who was a lovely tempered soft-as-shit Springer Spaniel who loved people and children and never bit or growled at anyone in her life (awww).

Being a Springer Spaniel she had certain gundog tendencies, she would point at butterflies and would occasionally catch birds, hold them for a bit in her soft mouth and then release them unharmed (awww).

One summer day, Becky, my 8 year old cousin ran up to me on the patio and said "Help, Sheba has caught a pigeon!" I explained that she shouldn't worry, and to prove it I whistled and Sheba trotted up the garden with the pigeon in her mouth and stood in front of us looking very pleased with herself. "Now watch this Becky....DROP!" I commanded. Sheba chomped down on the pigeon, shook her head violently side-to-side and ripped the pigeon to shreds in a storm of blood and feathers. I never knew there was so much blood in a pigeon.

Becky stopped crying about 2 hours later.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:07, Reply)

Pavlov the money munching machine.
Minding my own business, I walked in to my bedroom one day. On the floor was my black lab/siberian husky mix, looking guilty as hell with pieces of green paper sticking out of his mouth.

"Pavlov give!" I ordered and pried open his mouth to retrieve three of the eighteen dollars I had until a few minutes before. I reached in his mouth, and nope, only three dollars.

Heading back to college, I told my dad and had him "keep an eye out" for the missing $15. After about a week, there they were, a ten and a five, out in the yard. My dad cleaned them off, and the journey through the center of the dog had discolored the paper and made it brittle, but except for a few holes, it was intact.

I took it to the bank to exchange for fresh notes. The teller was very nice, explaining that since both serial numbers were intact, exhange would be no problem.

I waited until I had my new money in hand before I told her what had happened. She looked disgusted for some reason.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:04, Reply)

Best of all the animals
I used to have an ex-racehorse called Marty. He was gentle as a lamb, a bit timid even, but was very tall and imposing. Even at just a light canter he would snort loudly with flaring nostrils at each exhale, like the retired athlete he was.

I was riding him one day in a little field that was public, but usually quiet, only used as a thoroughfare by others. A couple of fuckwitted boys decided they wanted to ride their bikes there. I tried moving away so we could each have our space, but the idiot boys thought it was a lot more fun to ride in really close to us, trying to frighten Marty so he'd throw me off.

I'm sure Marty and I had the same evil idea at the same time. I didn't have to tell him what to do. He knew. Which was funny, given his usual docile nature.

We trotted off, right up to the other end of the field. The boys thought they'd won and scared me off, but we were only allowing ourselves enough distance to get a good run up.

As soon as I let him know I was ready, Marty charged at the boys at full gallop, giant hooves thundering, nostrils flaring and snorting loudly. The boys didn't realise what was happening until they realised a ton of pissed off, speeding horse was right on top of them.

Marty swerved at the last second to miss them, they shat themselves and disappeared on their little bikies, never to be seen again.

I swear Marty was smug.
( HairyCanary as Ann B. Davis as Alice, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 17:03, Reply)

My cat
My old cat Domino went missing about 3 years ago when she was 12 (yes, 12), problem was i've never found out if she actually died or just went missing. Then died.


One of the most stubborn, bastard arsed creatures that i actually liked on this planet...
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:59, Reply)

Hamster death!
Two on my daughter:

She had a hamster, as most girls seem to do, who she loved and lavished attention on. In fairness to my daugher, she was really very good about feeding it and changing its cage, and had a gentle touch when it came to handling this little rat-wannabe. But apparently the hamster thought otherwise...

...as one morning she found that it had lodged its head very firmly between the bars of its cage and hung itself in the night.

But far worse was the fate of her friend Amanda's hamsters. Apparently she had at least one of each gender, for one of them got very fat and delivered a pile of wriggling little things one night. Amanda was ecstatic as she saw all these little teeny things growing up, day by day, imagining all the fun she would have with about a dozen of the little creatures.

They had run out of hamster food one night, so her mother shredded up some cabbage which she fed to the little nursing mother. Unfortunately it seems that cabbage has the same effect on hamsters that it has on us.

The lot of them died from suffocating in methane after farting all night.

Sadly, both of these stories are 100% accurate.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:57, Reply)

Miracle kittens
Background: My mother was a cat breeder and one of the early litters had a cute black-haired persian kitten called Jamie.

After about a week it was obvious that the poor sod had a problem. He was smaller than the others and not feeding. He just flopped about and failed to find the teat. My mum started bottle-feeding him but another week later it was obvious that his problems were increasing. His back legs didn't work and he pulled himself along on his front legs looking quite pathetic. The vet came and gave him 3 days to improve. He showed no improvement in the 3 days and I went to bed feeling despondent because it was obvious that in spite of all the efforts he was going to walk the plank (or crawl it, if you like!). I woke up in the morning and went to see the litter. He was walking. Very wobbly, but walking. I cried.

Another time and a different litter. An 8 week old kitten got a virus, got dehydrated, got weak and was fading away before our eyes. The vet came one evening and said she would be dead by the morning as the effort of breathing was killing her. He gave her a mighty dose of antibiotics on a kill or cure basis and left. I went to sleep feeling morose and hopeless. I woke in the morning and went to see the inevitable. She was scooting around like a loon and eating everything in sight. I cried again.

Girls: If you have been disturbed or moved by any of the issues raised by my posting I am available for one-2-one or group sexytime counselling.
(gobbo, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:55, Reply)

in Dungeons and Dragons

if you're a ranger, you get to have an 'animal companion' once you reach a particular point. I'm going to have a sheep. I'm the best ranger ever.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:52, Reply)

pet the second (as I too have much animal history)
or is that have too much animal history?

I recall a Golden Recycler belonging to a neighbour who in classic purebred fashion just could never remember that if he came running down the carpeted stairs he'd lose grip on the polished floorboards at the bottom and go sliding straight WHUMP! into the fridge. Every time. Only fridge I've ever seen with a massive foam cushion strapped to the door.

True: my chihuahua can carry a frisbee. But not while seeing where he's going.

Feral cat in a locust plague: she'd made a nest in the bouganvillea (thorny vine) by the veranda of our farmhouse unbeknownst to us, and managed to keep a litter of kittens a) 4 feet off the ground and b) secret from us and our 2 other cats. Unless they had some sort of conspiracy thing going. Anyway, you know how cats like to play with their prey? Imagine a cat in a locust plague! Not this one; she killed with lightning speed, ruthless efficiency and not a single wasted movement. Mother of the millennium. Only animal we could never find the right name for.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:52, Reply)

Another tale about Hedley
A tale I'd blanked from my mind as the memory is still painful.

From my point of view:-

Wake up in the morning with the usual wooden salute. I turned to the ex-missus (the made psycho one, in case anyone actually follows these) and gave her an obliging 'nudge' with my pole. Psycho ex-missus grunts a reply that sounds a bit like 'fuck off'.
A few nudges later an it's obvious I'm not going away to take care of things by myself. Some negotiation ensues. Luckily, she's not having one of her 'touch me and I'll cry cos your trying to pressure me into having sex more than twice a year' days.
Result in my favour and she starts to give me a hand shandy. I lie back, close my eyes and enjoy.

From Hedleys point of view:-
Hedley likes chasing things. Hedley likes jumping on things. Hedley especially likes jumping on things that are moving.
so, Hedley comes into the bedroom looking for some hugs. Hedley gets on the end of the bed and spies that under the duvet, something is moving.

It was at this point that I opened my eyes. The sight that beheld me has been etched into my brain ever since. The cat was about four foot over the bed. Having launched himself in a perfect arc and with his front paws together, ready to crush the life out of the 'moving thing' which (in case you are really slow today) is my hand shandy.
With pinpoint accuracy he landed with all his weight on my testicles which, up until then, had been having a mighty fine time indeed.
I don't know if any of you have ever been smacked in the balls whilst having sex, but it doubles the amount of pain you get.
Mad psycho ex-missus thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen and pissed herself as I thrashed about in agony.

The cat had fucked off, job done.

I kept the bedroom door closed after that.
(EvilMeister, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:51, Reply)

another friend julia
whose father got me my first ever best of (i'm not clever enought to do links, so have re-posted below given how old it is), had a rabbit that she loved. she also loved horses. her dad bought her a horse, but the deal was she had to get herself to the stables and back.

so when she got out of the lesson and her dad was in the carpark, she knew something was up. sure enough, her dad said sheepishly, "look love, i let your rabbit out for a run around." ok. "and then," he continued, "i forgot and i let the dog out. and he killed the rabbit."

julia screamed and cried, and when she got home, she ran straight upstairs to her bedroom before her dad could stop her. so the first thing she saw, sobbing out of her bedroom window - was her dad's idea of punishing the dog.

which was to tie it up on the patio. with the mangled rabbit corpse around its neck. how was that ever going to work?!

sainsburys
remember that moment of panic as a small child when you are wandering frantically around some giant sized supermarket looking for your parent/s, who seem to have disappeared somewhere between the milk and the cheese?

my friend's dad will go straight to the cashier and get them to announce over the tannoy: "Will Julia McKenzie come to Customer Services where her father is waiting for her".
so everyone stands there waiting kindly for some tearstained toddler to stagger up.



she's 28.

( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:43, Reply)

Bubble and Squeak
When my brother and I were young, we had a tortoise each; mine was called Bubble and his Squeak.

They were surprisingly entertaining, though sometimes for the wrong reasons - on one occasion, Mum looked out of the kitchen window to see my brother 'revving' Squeak up at the top of the slide before letting him go. Squeak travelled most of the way with legs and head sticking out as far as possible before pulling everything in just before impact.

Luckily 'impact' was onto mud and grass rather than concrete, so he survived his trauma rather better than my brother did once Mum got hold of him.
( thealternativefact, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:42, Reply)

Fatdog and Adventure Ears, Part 3.
One of the things that Adventure Ears obsesses over is the garden hose. If I get out the hose and put on the nozzle, she will chase the stream of water around the yard trying to catch it. She'll hold her mouth wide open so she can get it, but at the same time she really wants to bark at it- so she ends up running around the yard screaming like Steve Ballmer.

Ever seen a cat chase a laser pointer? That's what Adventure Ears does if I spray around the yard, and will try her best to chase it up a tree.

She is also fascinated by lawn sprinklers to the point of almost drowning herself. Take a look for yourself: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiZxjx9OBXY

(Apologies for the crap quality of the video- camera phones are not the best for this sort of thing.)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:42, Reply)

pet the first (where does one start???)
Back when video cameras were quite new; let's set the scene....

There was a share-house filled with folks of the very best intentions towards our furry friends. So much so in fact that a couple of them (this really wasn't me, promise) decided to help rehouse all the unwanted Christmassy kittens in the area, and put up posters and ads in the local papers. Kittens came from far and wide, the idea being to later readvertise slightly older kittens and find them more caring homes, for life.

Meanwhile, some 60-70 kittens are being cared for in the great basement room, which had previously been used as a band rehearsal room so was padded on the walls, and now houses a massive model train set and landscape: just perfect for cute kitteny play.

As I said, videos were quite new back then, and if we all look very carefully we may still be able to find the tape of what happened...

a few weeks in...

and for the very first time...

the trainset was turned on....

Sadly, this was also before the era of pet psychiatry.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:39, Reply)

My sister
has two cats. The younger one, Harry, is a bit thick. One day, the water board said that the supply was due to be cut off. My sister filled the bathtub so they wouldn't run out.

Shortly afterwards, she witnessed a commotion in the bathroom. Harry had come running up the stairs, right into the bathroom and jumped straight into the bath, not realising it was brim full of water. He then panicked and ran round the whole house, leaving a trail of wetness everywhere.

The thing is, she'd never seen him jump into the bath before!

Can't be bothered with a length joke today, but I could make one about a dripping pussy.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:38, Reply)

Flatulence in my face
The Hubby's dog (Gent) had a habit of waiting till I was a prime target for one of his arse burps. Wee critter liked to catch me off guard by giving me big kisses and then snuggling up to the side of me to unleash one of his bad boys. He would even make special trips to my room just to crack one out and then leave. Never farted in front of his other Daddy, oh no, he got the cuddles and heart felt kisses. Even when we took him to the doggy doctor not three weeks ago for the very last time he even managed to fart right in my mush as I gave him my last goodbye.
(Fall, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:37, Reply)

Pushkin
is a very smart Russian Blue. He went through a period where he was getting up very early in the mornings, yowling and jumping on me to wake me up. He got a lecture about this and soon came to understand that weekend days were for sleeping in. He understood this and stopped rowdy bodily contact on weekend mornings (how he knew what day it was I'll never know).

Early one Saturday morning I was asleep on my back with my mouth wide open. Unbeknownst to me a big spider was sliding down a thread of web, heading straight for my gaping gob.

Knowing this wasn't good, and knowing he wasn't allowed to yell or jump on me to alert me, he quietly stood on his hind legs and bashed the bedhead with his paws until I woke up.
( HairyCanary as Ann B. Davis as Alice, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:37, Reply)

when
my friend sarah lost her dad, she was only 6. in order to cheer her up, which was do-able at that age, her mother bought her a hamster.

the next day, sarah ran gleefully downstairs to play with her new pet. only to discover it had escaped in the night. not content with that, it had fallen into the big fishbowl underneath and drowned.

not content with THAT, the corpse had bloated and swollen and poisoned the fish. which were floating on the surface.

so this poor eager little 6 year old ran happily into the room to play with her pets. only to be greeted with a floating bowl of death. shame.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:36, Reply)

Sandy
Sandy was a ginger kitten who came into my life one white December and wormed his way into my heart.

He used to play fetch with marbles down the cellar steps and used to get up out of my bed in the night to play on his own. Every night he slept in the crook of my knees, under the covers in cold weather and on top when it was warmer.

Every morning there was a dead mouse on the back door step but when my grandfather came for his two weeks stay there were two mice.

Sandy would let me dress him up, wear him like a living fur collar and let me carry him like a baby.

He died 40 years ago but I remember him better than any other cat or man in my life.
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:29, Reply)

The Fear
Might have posted this one before bur can't be arsed to dig through the archives.

I used to share a flat with a bunch of crazy people. Hippies mainly, but still crazy.

So one night I was having a relaxing, stoned bath. Candles, music and big spliff in a mega-hot bath. It was bliss.

Then, suddenly, the bathroom door opened and a hand stretched over the bath and dropped the house cat on me and then slammed shut. The slamming blew out the candles and plunged me into pitch blackness.

Cat, finding itself suddenly plunged into hot water, went ballistic and clawed the shit out of my thighs, stomach and face (thankfully missing my wedding tackle).

For some reason this incident gave me a phobia about baths for about 5 years. I just couldn't relax in one so it was showers only. Took a long time to get over that I can tell you.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:29, Reply)

Hamster soup and ferret spray.
My good friend once admitted that she accidently killed her mate's hamster whilst petting it. It bit her and in her surprise and pain she only ended up dropping the poor sod into a bowl of extremely hot soup didn't she?

Also a friend of a friend accidently killed next doors' ferret by squirting it with a water pistol, poor bugger died of shock instantly.

Maybe i should get new friends eh?
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:28, Reply)

best. QOTW. ever.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:24, Reply)

My pet
Some time around 1980 I captured Lionel Richie and kept him in a cage. He was my Commodore Pet.

[gets coat]
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:21, Reply)

Cats and hamsters
When I was about 11, I let my hamster play with the cat. Imagine the tears after I saw the cat eating him.

Recently, that same cat was running through the room towards the kitchen, not realising the door was closed, and rammed head first into it.
(sarahlicity, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:13, Reply)

Not my pet but....
Walked past a family walking their dog the other day, and just as I passed them I saw the dog begin to squat down and let rip with a torrent of effluent. Thankfully by now I was upwind and as I walked on I could hear the mother shouting "Oh David, no!" and the kids cheering "Diarrhoea! Diarrhoea!". So: was the dog called David, Diarrhoea, or other?
( Ysol ab abl blap, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:13, Reply)

Soylent Green is fish
My mum won a bunch of fish at a local fair -- half a dozen, all different colours (not just goldfish). We took them home, got a tank and, somehow, managed to keep them alive.

Strangely, though, after a while, they started to disappear one by one. We looked down the back of the cupboard the tank was on -- nothing. Inside the decorative shells? Nope. The dog couldn't have got to them. Just vanished. Very odd.

The mystery was solved when after several weeks, we were left with one very fat, smug-looking fish. Still have no idea what sort of fish it was, but it got pretty big and lived for ages. Although it was on its own in the tank from then on.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 16:08, Reply)