The usual line is “He followed me home.” 
Oh yeah, well…that’s fair enough. 
It’s not like I fought particularly hard to find her another home.
No offence intended- the part about the cat running into your arms to be rescued. Sounded a little like you were happy to find her.
Yer lucky yours was hiding in the car. Within a half-hour of getting Mud in the house, she managed to fall behind the water heater (short-sized heater - I dropped a towel so she could clamber out), fall behind the washing machine (ditto on the towel), and crawl into an open dresser drawer (of course, it HAD to be the broken one that sticks and doesn’t open well).
She’s calmed down. Somewhat. Still hates my toe.
That’s a pretty *Damned * phantasmagoric kitty that you rescued from those Bunnymen. I hope the flea & worm Cure takes hold soon.
(sorry folks, that’s all I got.)
Good on you for rescuing the kitten. In my experience 95% of the ‘walking dead’ kids are harmless and in the round are brighter and kinder than the “normal” ones (likely to have “W.W.J.D.” tatooed in germanic script in close proximity to their genitals, but otherwise really nice kids) . Of course, there is the other 5% that hunt feral kittens for use in bizarre self-styled rituals of evil.
You know, the whole “bizarre ritual” thing never really occurred to me. It just looked to me like they were being mean to the kitten, and that’s what set me off. I noticed their appearance - don’t get me wrong - I just never associated it with eeeeevil, if you know what I mean.
I freely admit now that I was probably a little hard on them. I never touched them, and the sum total of our confrontation consisted of me growling at them and stalking off with the kitten. I honestly hope they don’t just think I was being a fascist asshole.
But I can live with it if they do. I’ll never forget the…contemptuous…way the guy held the kitten up between thumb and forefinger, as if her were a butler and had found something dead behind the General’s bureau. And then he dropped her smack on her head in the street from about five feet up.
It pissed me off, and my Internal Protector took over. You gotta look after the little creatures, you know?
Oh, and yeah, Cicero. I didn’t mind seeing her. I’m an ogre with a soft spot for fuzzy kittens.
With a name like “EURONYMOUS THE BLACK METAL DEVIL DOOM KITTY (EtBMDDK for short)”, you may get more than you bargined for. :eek:
Pictures. We must have pictures.
So that’s where I get it from.
OP…is this thread title from Apocolypse Now? The puppy?
I’ll be happy to post some photos tomorrow, missbunny. I’d advise you to keep one eye closed while viewing the photo, however, just in case the waves of DOOM blind you.
No, but that was a damn fine catch for something that was probably unconscious on my part.
This is an oddly coincidental addition to the thread, since I just got that album via special order at a local shop. Weird. How often do those paths cross?
Eh…you were thinking Goth. Tis a good album…CD really brings out their subtleties. Ever heard the Bad Trip Mix of *Grimly Fiendish * from Light At The End Of The Tunnel? It works, dude!
Are the photos ready yet?
Yep!
Behold the DOOM OF THE WORLD!
See the spot on her tummy? Mt girlfriend calls her the Sneetch. She will, of course, be the first against the wall when DOOM falls.
Just some Latin corrections:
Subveni, Domine! (direct address = vocative)* Habemus aliam felem! (direct object = accusative)
So, Subveni, Domine! Habemus aliam felem!
- (I was actually thinking *Domine, salve nos![/]i, but that’s just an alternative.)
That’s what two years of high school Latin seventeen years ago and a mediocre online English-Latin translation page will do for you…
I trust that Euronymous’s ferality is now calmed? She looked quite tame there.
I was wondering if the Goth kids maybe did mean well but the one’s picking it up by a leg & dropping it quickly was a reaction to its ferality?
Oh, they’re very good at this, and usually try to hide their skill. But one day, one of them slipped up…
I’d just been in the spare room off the kitchen of my tiny Boston apartment, where Tribble was napping. I was at the kitchen counter, working on something, with my back to the spare room. Now, I SWEAR there’s no way Tribble could have crossed the kitchen floor, jumped onto the stove next to me, and leaped from there to the cabinet over my head, without my noticing. I mean, no matter how absorbed I was in what I was doing, peripheral vision, flying objects, you know…
Yet I looked up and there she was, beaming down at me from atop the cabinet.
She didn’t even look guilty when I informed her she’d blown her cover.
I definitely see the evil waves of DOOM emanating. You better watch out for that one. She’s plotting already.
I believe she holds her secret powers in that spot on her belly. All cats have a place where their powers for World Domination are stored, and hers might be there, or possibly in that patch over her left eye.