Name the breed, the sex and then tell your tale-
Domestic tabby shorthair
Beaker is the best cat because he never fails to surprise and amuse.
My sister cooked a big dinner for herself and her BF and went all out with candles and courses and music - whatever. Beaker set the festivities off by hopping onto the table and casually walking across the length, pausing only a split second over a candle that set his butt fur on fire with a very soft “puff” sound.
The flames went right out and Beaker continued his stroll to the end of the table and off.
She said they were amazed, horrrifffied, delighted and disgusted all at the same time.
I have three cats of my own. They all ahve proven to be extroidanarily amusing adn aggrivating at times.
Snot, her names a long story, is the athletic type. She’s so skinny and muscualr she looks like a grey rat. I do believe she’s mentally challenged as well, either that or she thinks it’s amusing to act like and idiot, always prancing around and running headlong into stuff. Of course the damn thing finds it amusing to sit in front of us, look at us right in the face, and squat down to pee on our floor. Argh, I could skin her!!
Norma, well she’s the fat royal queen who’s deemed that everone and everything in our home is hers and must do her bidding. Just recently she decided that no matter how high up I put the wishbone from our turkey she was going to take it down and eat it. Needless to say there will be no wishes made off that bone later this year
And my third cat, who I rescued from getting run over while nine months pregnant is the biggest pain in the butt. Always deciding he needs to sneak up when your not looking and sit down at your feet. This proves to be deadly if you go to move and he’s there tripping you up.
Well that’s my babbling over my cats. I love tehm to death even though they’re worse than little kids.
Partly Siamese, mostly mutt
Murphy is perhaps not the best, but certainly one of the more entertaining. He was six weeks old when he came to live with us. Two weeks later, on a nice spring day, we had the balcony doors open to let in some fresh air and sun. That’s balcony as in third floor apartment. Time passed. The phone rang. It was the people on the first floor asking if we had a light colored kitten. He was not injured, but very confused. And he still tries to chase the birdies. Even through the glass. Can’t figure out why he never catches them.
We both smoke, and for a while, Murphy took to retrieving cigarettes from ash trays and trash cans and leaving them in our shoes. One per shoe, each morning for six weeks. The next six weeks he switched to dried roses. It took me forever to find the box he was getting them from.
He gets very worried about me when I take a bath, and often launches his own heroic rescue attempt, meowing and whirring and pawing at my hair. The fun always stops when he falls in.
When I have a frozen chicken thawing in a sink full of cold water, he likes to go ‘fishing’. Usually I catch him before he gets a bite, but I still end up losing a lot of poultry this way. And he’s not too particular about that path he takes, either. He’s knocked at least a dozen glasses off the counter to be shattered on the floor at one time or another. Doesn’t understand why it’s not ok to play with the broken pieces. They’re fun to chase!
Another favorite activity is helping me change the litter box. As soon as the clean litter is in, he gets in to play with it for a while, then lays down for a nice nap. Doesn’t understand why this is immediately followed by a bath.
He dutifully accompanies each and every patron to the restroom, to keep you company, I suppose. If you take advantage of the literature there, he sits on the toilet tank behind you with paws on a shoulder and helps you read, making sure you never miss a page. Can’t figure out why some folks don’t appreciate the help.
I’m sorry if I’ve rambled, but it’s hard to keep track of just what’s been said with Murphy here helping me type. Can’t figure why I don’t make the picture change more often.
my cat’s breath smells like cat food !
sorry, couldnt resist hahah!
Chief’s Domain - http://www.seas.ucla.edu/~ravi
Because it’s a dog.
“Some people are worried about the difference between right and wrong. I’m worried about the difference between wrong and fun.”
Inspector Cleauseau is our outside cat. She will beat the bejeezus out of anything that comes in the yard (and we live in the woods, which makes for some wild cat/raccoon battles). She’s a great outside cat, very affectionate, self-reliant, etc. But she SUCKS in the house, marking her territory at every turn.
Littlejohn has delusions of grandeure. He think’s he’s a tiger, and struts around as such. A sweet temperament and really handsome.
Devil Cat is “the baby”. She’s 7 years old, but she’s really small, like a kitten. She’s so goddamn cute you can hardly look at her. Her eyes are enormous (we call her “Alien eyes”) and her “mew” is barely audible. She loves to cuddle and lives for mommy and daddy’s return from work. The three of them own us. We merely rent from them.
[ul][li]TC (“The Cat”) - I think he’s a British shorthair; my wife says Russian Blue. (He looks like the cat in “Pet Sematary”) In any case, he’s an adorable cuddler, unfortunately not always when you want to cuddle.[/li][li]Othello (after the Shakespearian character) - He’s a shy yet handsome “tuxedo” cat. We got him from Alley Cat Allies, which might explain his shyness. But he will let you pick him up when he’s hungry, but only before you feed him.[/li]Spitz (she spits at dogs if they get too close) - She’s also tuxedo colored, but she’s also part Maine Coon cat, with beautiful silky hair. She doesn’t meow, she squeaks. And her whiskers bow down instead of straight out. She’s also polydactyl, with 1 extra “thumb”; it looks like she’s wearing mittens if she stands just right.[/ul]
I have three cats who are the best.
Edie - shorthaired calico, spayed
Edie is very in tune with my emotions because she’s extremely clingy. The first time I noticed this was when “Schindler’s List” was aired on tv. We sat down to watch it (she and I) and towards the end, I had a crying jag like no other. Edie stepped onto my lap and looked up at me with as much compassion as a cat can muster. Then she reached up and patted my tear-dampened cheek with her paw as if to say, “I’m sorry you’re sad; let me make it better.” She also always sleeps right next to my head when I’m sick.
Francis - brown tabby, spayed
Francis came to live with me the same day as Edie. She is the opposite personality - very aloof and catlike, and finicky in her habits. She is most likely to be directly under the uplifted foot of someone moving a sofa. She was named for St. Francis of Assissi, whose day we celebrate as her birthday. My very favorite thing about her is that she looks just like a pile of dead leaves when she lays in the yard.
Snuggles - yellow tabby, neutered
Snuggles came to live with us earlier this year. He got his name the first night he slept in the house, by juming on my bed, crawling under the covers, and sleeping in the curve of my waist the whole night. Poor Snugs does not do well in the car; I’d elaborate if someone started a Pet Calamities thread, but here is not the place.
I also have a dog and a gerbil that I think are the best.
Insert Random Witticism Here.
My cats, all four of them, are the besr because:
they keep me from feeling lonely
they sleep with me at night
they help me type on the computer
they love to be held, cuddled, and kissed
they make me laugh with their antics
they greet me at the door when I come home
I feel happy and at peace just by looking at them, just by listening to them purr
I crave an art that passionately transcends the mundane instead of being a device for self-deception.–Griffin, from The Griffin and Sabine trilogy.
My cat Angie was a calico. She was the best cause she was so mean. She only like me and my mother. Once a lady was passing by with her doberman. The lady stopped to brag about her dog to everyone hanging around (it was a nice summer afternoon and everyone was outside) This dog was a purebred, trained guard dog, blah blah blah. Well, woofie made the mistake of looking at Angie. She puffed her tail all up, let out one of her screaming growls, and jumped on his back and dug in. Angie rode him a good ways down the street, then jumped off. She had made her point. Everyone cracked up, and that we never saw that lady walk and her dog again. Angie passed away at the age of 22, a bitch on wheels till the end. I miss her.
Cats are as follows:
Incubus, Alien, Gigi, Dummy, Bart, Lisa, Coco Puff, Stripey, God Dammit, Mickey, Matilida the Hun.
Incubus (Inky): understands English to the point where it’s weird. Sleeps under covers with head on pillow like a person. Very, very smart cat. Got him from a pound.
Alien: So named because of her big eyes and small head when she was a baby. Grouchiest cat you ever saw.
Gigi: Dumb as a post.
Dummy: His real name is Orange, but he used to do some really silly things when he was a baby. He’s the sweetest, most charming cat in the world. Always has been. Except at the vet’s.
Bart: Huge cat. Was king of household until Inky was adopted. Still commands a lot of respect.
Lisa: The hyper-cat. So high strung, the slightest touch or motion makes her jump 5 feet in the air. Ususally runs around screaming in fear at something. Completely tense 24/7.
Coco Puff: Found in front of a grocery store. Very small cat, very affectionate.
Stripey: From pound like Inky. Very skittish, very pretty.
God: God’s the only long hair we have. She’s also long and short, body-wise.
Mickey: Named because he looks like he has a Mickey Mouse hat on his head. Very low self-esteem. Does not purr. Rescued from an apartment complex. He’s finally starting to come out of his shell a little bit. Constantly dirty.
Matilda the Hun: Rescued with her brother Sidney Vicious, who was later killed by the paper truck. Very sweet cat, not too bright.
To see their pictures, go to http://www.thecats.com and go to “CATS! bios” page
Meow, what great cats! Love the pics on your site.
However, MY cats are the BEST cats because…uh, because…well. Anyway, I love them best. I tell my SO that I gave birth to them. He thinks that’s strange, but it’s exactly how I feel. They’re my babies!
My “kiddies’” names are Derwood and Kirby. Each was rescued from sure death, in different ways. They’re both polydactl, and without them my life would be much less pleasant (and FUN!).
Kirby (female, black longhair) came from an abandoned litter. A wonderful animal rescue guy (friend of the family) found the 2-week old litter and refused to send them to the pound (where they would be euthanized immediately - no pound is going to feed 7 kittens every two hours for weeks…). So he and his wife raised the litter (two didn’t make it) till they were old enough to be adopted out. Little Kirby never got a chance to be with her mommy, so she has some abandonment issues, but has turned into a very sweet, loving kitty. She’s very quiet, dainty and petite. She can also be a bit tense and jumpy (due to having so little socialization?), and generally stays on the outside of things, watching. But when she and Derwood get to playing grab-ass, Kirby gets really revved up and goes bouncing around the house like a pinball! Hilarious! Kirby definitely is in charge in my house. She’s the queen (I’m the handmaiden) and
Derwood (male, grey and white tabby) is the clown prince of the household. Derwood was rescued from the pound with one day left, by an animal rescue group, which held a pet adoption day at a store near my home. The minute we saw each other it was true love - took him home and we’ve been a happy little family ever since (ok, Kirby was a little put out at first, but everything’s ok now). He’s intensely devoted to me, follows me around wherever I go, talks to me constantly (he has quite a vocabulary!), always wants to play or cuddle (read: needs LOTS OF attention), and taught himself to play fetch! He’s curious, adventurous, daring, unafraid, and adorable. He’s got a cute “birthmark” on his nose/cheek and is growing up to be a pretty good-sized kitty.
Derwood and Kirby can be seen on my homepage(link below).
I am too in shape! :::muttering::: Round is a shape.
C’mon up and see me sometime.
14 1/2 years old
Ernie is very vocal. He’ll “talk” to me no matter how busy he might be.
2 1/2 years old
Oscar was my birthday present, but soon became my son’s cat. I think he prefers the filth of a kid’s bedroom. Oh, and he LOVES to eat anything he shouldn’t. Our Christmas tree has been in its stand for less than an hour and I can’t get him to stop nibbling.
Make that “nuetered.” Ooops
I mean “neutered.”
My cats are the BEST!!
They’re named (in order of shortest-tailed to the longest – that’s how I keep track of them):
Fluffy (the big black Persian); Boom-boom (the rambunctious one!); Bigfoot (polydactyl, but not twisty, ugh!); Gumby (as green as a cat can get!!); Lady Principia (this mixed breed thinks she’s royalty!); Gorgon (a poor mess who I found on the side of the road after some jerk hit him with his car – Gogo (as I sometimes call him) only has one eye); Sir Laffalot (the playful one!!); Goiter (don’t ask!); El Gatto Grande (a miniature hairless Mexican cat that Gumby keeps mistaking for a rat!!!); PeeWee (who is anorexic!); Darling (a tabby who can’t stop purring!!); St. Athanasius (who knows calligraphy); Root Beer (who can get into the liquor cabinet and polish off a fifth of Scotch); Pantocrator (who I think is one of God’s divine manifestation and who tells me which stocks to invest in); Nut-Nut, Jingles, and Bubblywubbly (Pantocrator’s kitty disciples); Mephisto (who’s just the right size to counterbalance me on my broomstick!!); Larky (who passed away last month, but is fine and well all stuffed on my mantlepiece – though I think it upsets Boom-Boom a bit); Lao Foung Kwai (Kwai’s a Siamese who knows three languages – all psychically!!); Deadly Despair (the cuddly one!!); Clamydia (she really grows on you!!); and finally, Hacker (the hairballs he regurgitates are larger than El Gatto!!!).
These guys are the BEST, because they all know how to hide when the social worker shows up!!
My cat Bill is the best because (and I swear this is true) he can open doors with his paws. He used to scare the shit out of me late at night: I would hear the door knob jiggle and jiggle and then the door would open up and in would come Bill. He can’t do it anymore because in my new place the doorknobs are a bit stiffer and I dont think he has the strength to do it. Oh yeah I don’t know what breed he is, probably half manx because he has a stubby tale.
“The Melody Haunts My Reverie”
Pearl is a beautiful fluffy white female kitty. She was a stray who found me when I was living briefly in Ohio.
She pees in the toilet. There was no encouragement or training from me to get her to do this; she just jumped up there one day while I was getting ready for work, and peed in the toilet! Now if I could just get her to flush…