Inspired by digs in the mini-rant thread. Lets have at it 
My idiot cat is front declawed and had half of his jaw shot off. He doesn’t have the sense that God gave a goose, because he keeps trying to run out the door and get losted in the world of dogs, cars and jerks who will shoot an animal and not be sure that its dead.
Please share your stories and rants. I need to know that I’m not the only one dealing with this.
I can sympathize, because some cats just can’t seem to help themselves, but I’d really rather participate in the pitting of the kind of asshole who’d shoot a cat in the face (not that there’s a good place to shoot a cat, of course).
Since our other cat died in December, our remaining cat has been the pussiest puss who ever pussed in pussland. She demands attention all the time; if she’s awake, she’s demanding attention. She didn’t like her partner in crime, but I guess she’s missing the company now, and since my husband is allergic to cats, we won’t be getting any more of them.
Mine’s kind of lame compared to yours, but here goes. My cat likes to lick plastic bags. I use the plastic grocery bags as liners in the little trash cans, and the noise it makes when she licks it just drives me nuts. I’ll yell at her to stop and she just gives me * that look*, you know, the “fuck you, I’m a cat” look and go right back to doing it.
My cat has the most bizarre need to be within line-of-sight of me at all times. If I leave the room, he starts howling until I come back in. If I’m in the kitchen and he’s in the living room, he howls until I poke my head around the partition. If he gets in the bathroom while I’m showering, he howls unless I open the curtain enough for him to see me.
He also utterly refuses to acknowledge the existence of the perfectly clean water dish next to his food, and will only drink from the water cup I set by my bed, from a running faucet, or by licking the condensation off the windows.
He also likes to snuggle with me at night. Which is nice, except sometimes he starts trying to bite my chin for no particular reason.
Another licking issue, but it’s not what she licks, but how. My cat does the biggest ‘hoiks’ known to mankind. We couldn’t believe it the first time we heard it. It’s a wonder her coat isn’t dripping with saliva by the time she’s done.
We have three cats. The Big Red Cat hates and fears us, but he LOVES the White Cat. White cat used to be a sort of foster parent to him when he was still the Big Red Kitten, and BRC has loved WC even since.
So the Little White Cat will be on our laps or on our bed, and then you see the Big Red cat approaching, cauteously…jumping back when we glance in his direction… When the Big Red Cat is within arms reach, you can almost see his inner conflict. Will he go cuddle with WC, like he wants to, but be where we can get at him? Usually, you can see how he sort of tries to forget we are there, and just goes to WC, plunks down next to him, and starts purring like a maniac.
That’s funny yet sad yet bizarre… might be time for Kitty Psychiatric Support Group. Which I would love to do with the calico who loves to get 1/8" from my nose and just stare. He lines up his face with mine, like it’s some Vulcan Mind Meld.
Think about it-- .125 inches is 3 millimeters, 2 picas… 2 millionths of a nautical mile; it’s weirdly close. Luckily I usually find it hilarious, but it’s a little hard to get anything done that requires, y’know, looking at something.
Damn cats. Damn all of 'em! Being a vet tech, I’ve ended up with damn fuzzbutts that all need more medical care than the average housecat - even ones I’ve adopted thinking they were “normal” ended up needing at least one big surgery at some point.
Right now there’s the needy 18-year-old with mild renal disease (he’s my shadow, always nearby and following me around), the neurologic 11-year-old who had an eye removed in 2011 and started having seizures last summer and now on phenobarbital, the 6-year-old with a liver shunt and urate stone issues and chronic pancreatitis - shit, that guy shouldn’t be alive at this point - but he’s so sweet and good and nice and is such a “dog cat” I can’t help but keep him around even though he’s on 5 medications and is his doctor’s most complicated case.
Finally, there’s the 5-year-old who we all thought was fine and normal until he was playing about 4 months after I adopted him and his femoral head broke in two after a big jump. Likely was an old break that had never healed properly. He’s fine now, it’s been two years since his ostectomy surgery - but the way he leaps excitedly toward the windows whenever there are birds or squirrels in the trees, it’s clear how he must have broken it, taking a sail out of a window, in the first place!
Stupid cats!
Kitties! No complaints about my cat…solid black (never found a single non-black hair on her), silky soft, and calm as can be. SO refers to her as ‘stoned’ kitty, because she really just sits there and watches the world like we all have tracers.
SO’s cat, though…has a thing with his water bowl. He’ll swat at the water and the bowl until it’s all over the floor. I have no idea how to remedy that. I’d heard one way to fix that was to get a bowl with running water, but he already has that.
Also, going to introduce the two starting this weekend. Hopefully that will go well.
Since Meowzebub died last summer things have been fairly relaxed in the Kelevra household. He treated me with disdain so long as I didn’t make eye contact, which was as nice as he got. He was particularly possessive of his cat condo. If you touched it he would attack you. We are still careful not to speak his name 3 times for fear we will re-summon him.
Our other cat Pork has returned to the house and become a nice cat now that Meowzebub is gone.
My first cat did that, weirdest thing. I’d wake up in the morning and she’s be laying on my chest looking at me. Then she’d reach over and lightly bite me on the chin. At first I lightly tapped her on the head and said “no.” But what that did was she’d still lightly bite me each morning and then kinda pull her head back as she knew she was going to be tapped. So hell, I just let her nibble away since it was that important to her. Weird.
Prowler keeps rifling through my drawers and pulling my clean clothes out onto the floor.
This seems to be a cold-weather activity for bored kitties. Apparently, clever Prowler has taught Dumb Yellow Fluff how to do it now too.
I have a platform bed with storage underneath - jeans and sweaters live down there. The drawer pull is an open slot where you insert your hand to open the drawer. Or, if you’re a bad, bored cat, you insert a paw, hook a piece of clothing, and pull. Repeat, until you have a big pile of clean clothes strewn on the floor. Saunter off laughing. Find a nice place to barf.
Almost every day I come home to find my formerly clean sweaters all munged up on the carpet, covered with lint and cat hair. GGGHHHHAAAHHHH!!! I wish I could find them a toy that really would provide distraction during the workday.
You could tighten up the runners on the drawer so the cat can’t pull it open.
The drawer doesn’t actually open - they pull the clothes through the little pull slot. Probably part of the attraction/fun.
I woke up this morning to paws walking slowly up my ribs, then a hefty, warm, purring body settling down just about shoulder level. There was a nice little head bump and rub, and a sweet little chirp. I turned my head to say good morning, and got a giant cat-sneeze at point blank range.
:rolleyes: Cats :rolleyes:
My two cats were super clingy when I came home last night after being away for two days. They had Husband to keep them company but I suppose they like me best. Only problem was that it was after midnight on a weeknight and I desperately needed to get to bed. I just did not have time to play. While I took my shower, they made so much noise trying to get in that they woke Husband up.
At least they cuddled up and slept when the time came.
I am currently catless. But I recently visited my middle son and he and his wife each have one. His cat will occasionally sit in the middle of the hall and meow insistantly until he calls, “Monkey, come here,” from the front room. Monkey then will come, as called, and climb into his lap with an air of satisfaction.
If Monkey isn’t called, he’ll sit and yowl for a long time. You can tell he knows where his person is, because he’s pointedly looking the right direction down the hall. We have no clue why he sometimes just wants to be called before heading for the lap. Most of the time it’s his default position.
I don’t care how big and bad you think you are Camry, that racoon will rip you to shreds. Which will be quite easy for it when you give yourself a concussion running into the screen door headfirst trying to get at it. Stupid cat.
OMG, I heard a can opening! It’s tuna! It’s always tuna when it’s a can! OMG…OMG…OMG… GIMME TUUUUNAAAA!
WTF’s this… chick peas? I raced downstairs for this? Fuckers.