DeadlyAccurate, you just made me wet my pants.
Now I will never be able to look at my cat when he has his ear flipped out without thinking that. 
I did “Bat Cat” and “Little Dutch Girl” on my cat Rex last night. He looked nonplussed.
My favorite thing to do to both my cats is to pick them up and blow raspberries on their tummies. Neither of them like it, but I still haven’t been clawed. Aah, docile little apartment kitties.
When I make up songs for my kitties, they’re usually to an original tune and are very, very stupid.
Has anyone ever played Danger Hole with their kitties? My parents have a very vicious little hunter cat and I play it with her. I put her in a box with a small hole in the side. Then I stick my finger into the hole and try to yank it out in the nick of time before she bites it off. I giggle like mad when we play this, and the kitty loves it, but my parents think I’m starkers.
“How much is that kitty in the window (meow, meow)?
The one with the striped-y taaaaiiil
How much is that kitty in the window (meow, meow)?
I do hope that kitty’s for sale (meow, meow)!”
When I smush their ears down, I say they’re wearing their rain caps.
My dad used to have a book called “The Cat IQ Test,” which had all sorts of mean tricks to play on your cat to test its intelligence. Things like placing two tables side by side, slightly separated, with a piece of paper over the gap. Place a cat on one table, and food on the other. Then you laugh when the paper gives way and the cat tumbles to the ground.
I’ve done this 
I also used to carry my cat around on my shoulders.
He weighed about 20 lbs, so sometimes I’d pick him up and do “kitty lifts” - he’d just stare at me as if I’d lost my wits.
He liked to sleep in the sink (anyone else’s cats do that?)
Okay, I know that this is mean, but I’m cracking up at the thought of doing this to Tickle, my parents’s very proud and dignified ginger tabby (who is a savage killer and the other player of Danger Hole).
A song I sing to Tickle:
“How much is that kitty in the window?
The one with the killer gleam in its eye.
How much is that kitty in the window?
If I bring it home some bunnies will surely die!”
Tickle hovers between 8-12 pounds, depending on what time of year it is (she slims down during hunting season from exercise and the inevitable tapeworms). When she’s winter heavy, though, we chant at her, “Fatty fatty two-by-four, can’t fit through the kitty door!”
My kitties C.C. and Rex have songs that I made up for them. My favorite goes like this:
“Rex, he’s Rex, he’s big fat Rex
He’s a panty-waist little mamma’s boy!
He’s Rex, he’s Rex, he’s big fat Rex
Big old coward, he’s even scared of his toys!
He’s Rex, he’s Rex, he’s big fat Rex
With a nice soft stripey gray coat of fur
He’s Rex, he’s Rex, he’s big fat Rex
My angel baby, listen to him purr.”
and of course there’s
“Rock-a-bye Re-ex, in the treetop,
When the wind blows, the kitty will rock
When the bough breaks, the kitty will fall
And DOWN will come Re-ex (drop kitty here)
Cradle and all!”
C.C. is independent and smart, and doesn’t do half the silly things that Rex does, so there are fewer songs about her, and none of them are very good (meaning, none of them rhyme).
Please don’t pit me for calling my cats fatties. 
I don’t know where they got it from by my older siblings taught me a song to pin down the kitty ears to that goes something like this
[pin down ears]
You got to be a football hero
to get along with the pretty girls!
[let go of cat]
one of my classic cat songs is based on a song from Jesus Christ Superstar. It is the fist song (Too much Heaven on their minds?) and my version starts at the bridge
What is Tybalt jumping on?
What is Tybalt scratching at?
What is Tybalt biting on?
The naughty cat!
Tybalt shouldn’t jump on that.
Tybalt shouldn’t scratch on that.
Tybalt shouldn’t bite on that.
The naughty cat!
Listen Tybalt I don’t like what I see
All I ask is that you listen to me.
I’m the master here, have you forgotten how put down you are?
For you’re meowing much too loud, and you’re tearing up the couch,
and I’ll spank you if you go too far. TOOO Farrrrr ToooOOOoooO FAAAaaaaaAAAArrrrrrr.
I thought I was the only one to torture my cats this way. I not only blow raspberries, I rub my face in their bellies while telling them what good kitties they are and how soft and furry their bellies are. (Actually, I mostly only do this to Cobalt, my good natured boy. Rhodium would take my face off in a minute most of the time if I tried it on her).
I also will take Cobalt’s head between both hands, and rub briskly (like drying your hands under the blow dryer). He can’t decide whether he likes the rubbing or is too weirded out by having his head held.
Here’s my little kitty
Short and stout
Here is her tummy
Here is her mouth
When she gets all hungry
Hear her shout
Fill my food bowl up
And put it out!
-Sung to the tune of “I’m a little teapot”
I usually make little Raiju do the accompanying movements. She hates it, but tolerates it because I feed her afterwards.
I also make up other songs, usually telling my sweetie how wonderful he is I think it embarasses him somewhat.
I do the rabbit ears, only I call it “Lammy Ears” As in, lamb ears.
Theadocia likes when I gum her ears, and I blow raspberries on her tummy, but she’s too skinny for those, really. She’s got claws, terrible sharp ones, but she still lets me do stuff to her like “Aqua Kitty”. I grab fore legs in one had, back legs in the other and “wave” her up and down so it looks like she’s swimming under water.
Danger Hole!!! (excellent band name) My finger would be shredded in seconds, but I’ll try it anyway!!!
The songs here are great too. Its good to know Im not the only one.
I’ve actually written poems about my cats, including a prayer to St. Gertrude of Nivelles, who is the patron saint of cats. No kidding, here, look it up yourselves:
** Ironically or perhaps not, St. Gertrude of Nivelles is also the patron saint of the mentally ill. Hmm. **
My cats don’t particularly seem to care for the poems, though, unless I read them while I am brushing their fur and/or feeding them treats. But they do seem to like having their ears played with, or at least Owen and Hallie do. (Zoe doesn’t like to be touched unless we are on the toilet.)
Well also play a game called “Kitty Under Glass,” where we put one of the cats in the cabinet we use for linens, and watch them try to figure out how to open the door. (Don’t worry, they’re fine in there.)
Oh, and my husband does “Catling Gun,” where he holds the cats with their front paws in one hand and their back paws in the other, and then pretends the cats are machine guns. Oh, they just love that one.
Haw! She’s not our kitty, she’s just a guest for the summer, but …
Oh, great one, Elysian. We also rewrite lyrics to suit our critters, and sometimes sing freeform aharmonic operas (think Phillip Glass) about how superfantastic they are.
But one of our cats wrote a masterpiece. I shall reproduce it here for your enjoyment. You may enjoy it more if you know that Domino regularly steals food from the cats next door, the cats downstairs, the cats down the street, our own dog, and probably God himself, and that his Official 6 PM Dinnertime™ is sometimes delayed if I get stuck in bad traffic on my way home from work.
You may also compare it to the original Sonnet 116 if you so desire.
Hungry at 6:16
by Domino, Felis Maximus
Let me not to the feeding of true cats
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which ignores when it starving kitties finds,
Or bends with the ankle me to shove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That drives through traffic but is never shaken;
It is not prey to every wandering bark
Whose Dog’s unfed, although his kibble be taken.
Love is Time’s fool, when dainty whiskered cheeks
Against the truant prickly knees do come;
Love alters not the dinner hour to [take a] leak
But holds it, even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I’m never Cat; no, not one ever loved.
Image of Domino the Bard (aka “the Pasha”) here . That’s me, Sebastian the Kitten-Snitten, and Ben the Shetland Sheepdog behind him. Oh, and some aliens came by that day and messed up the bedroom pretty bad. Such slobs, aliens.
Trip-hop has a bit of a gut, so I do airplane cat with him.
Just lie on your back with your feet in the air, and balance his tummy on the feet. Then wave your legs around (I use my hands on his front paws so he doesn’t fall).
Trippy lies there and flies, but the Trance cat will only allow it for a few minutes before she wiggles her butt and I have to let her down or drop her on my face.
“Oh no, I have no ears!”
She isn’t that crazy about it.
I have a cat that looks like Sylvester of Sylvester and Tweety fame who has a song I put her on my belly and hold her on her back legs then I make her dance and I sing I am the tuxedo cat I will seat you now Here is your menu give me your hat I am the Tuxedo cat
I have the ultimate in kitty torture. Simply drape a small hand towel over the cat’s back and watch him try to walk out from under it.
Hilarity ensues. Trust me*.
*This may explain why my old cat Fatboy would randomly race up to me and use my leg as a makeshift scratching post from time to time for no good reason.
I found a new torture I was setting up my IM preferences and I was choosing a sound and the cat sounds scared them they were looking around where is that new cat?
I have six cats. (Two are mine, and I acquired my bf’s four recently.)
I call this “Lambykins” when I do it, cuz, well, they look like lambs. Very not amused lambs.
Lambs with thumbs.
I live in fear my three double pawed beasties learn to use that thumb.
My mother used to complain about stray cats that hung around her house. My brother and I decided to assist her. We bought dozens of ladyfinger firecrackers (the ones with the strings) and tied them all around the carport latticework. We tied the strings together until we got into the house. We then baited the trap with some expensive cat food in the middle of the carport. My brother and I giggled like children as three very nervous strays approached the food. When they got close, we yanked the strings. The cats seemed to levitate straight up before they hit the ground and started running. Amazingly enough, we never saw them again.