We have a 12-year-old tuxedo cat named Roger. He’s a big, burly cat–13 pounds and very muscular. He’s also the world’s biggest coward. He has the usual cat fears: the vacuum cleaner, sudden loud noises, getting wet, going into his cat carrier. But, he also has some odd ones. He’s afraid of the ceiling fan, the doorbell, kittens, and our hands when we crawl them across the floor like spiders.
So last night I was getting ready to do yoga and Roger was watching me. I unrolled my new yoga mat, and it made a kind of sticky, smacky noise as it unrolled. He freaked and went running off. But he got over it and came back in shortly before I finished. When I picked up the mat to start rolling it up again, he got all scared again. Now every time he sees it he gets scared.
All 4 of my cats are afraid of the doorbell, even when they can see that I am the one ringing it.
All but the kitten is afraid of the vacuum. She charges and swats at the cannister part of the “rug monster”, but she is afraid of my new shoes I guess they make a weird sound when I walk.
My cat Denali, he is 4, is afraid of the kitten, but then again she is powered with rocket fuel and amphetimines (sp?) , so I don’t blame him there.
Guinness, he is terrified at the sight of a cat carrier, which makes getting him to the vet a real challenge. What fun it is to put a 15 pound muscular cat into a carrier. It should be an olympic event or something.
Scooter has a deep hatred of plants and rugs, so she trys to kill all of them. Hail Scooter! The mighty rug slayer!!
One of my cats is also afraid of nearly everything. People, noises, shadows, etc. I admit that I have used this fear to my advantange; when he is kicking up a fuss demanding attention while I have work to do, I will rap on the desk or wall as if someone is at the door and holler,“Come in!” He immediately zips off to hide in the basement, and I can get some peace.
Heh.
Fraidy-cat.
My cat will sit there and lick a plastic bag for hours, but if you just touch one, he’ll go running.
My favorite is to combine the two and grab the bag while he’s licking it.
I swear one of these days he’s actually going to attach himself to the ceiling ala Looney Tunes.
I have a fraidy-cat too. He’s quite nervous of anything loud or new or sudden. Sometimes when he walking past my feet I can scoot my foot a little bit and Whoop! he bucks straight upwards in surprise. Then he pretends like nothing happened.
Our other kitty startles like that sometimes, too, but she isn’t as paranoid as he is. I think she picked it up from him, but she jumps in the exact opposite direction of the noise. So when I startle her by scooting my foot, she’ll launch herself backwards/sideways about an inch above the floor like a kitty hovercraft. And then she pretends like nothing happened.
What is it about great big cats that makes them such, well, pussies?
Our Sweet Sara is not afraid of much, but big ol’ brutus-looking Skipper is afraid of the darndest things. Not surprisingly, he fears anything that makes a hissing sound (aerosol sprays, for example). So the Swiffer is a fearsome thing, and, by extension, anything else that is attached to a long pole. Dust mops, brooms, pool cues. You would think someone had beaten him with one. One of our family members brought in a tropical fish in a typical round glass bowl. Skippy took one look at the thing and backed sloooowwwly away. WTF? A cat afraid of a FISH???
We have 1 & 1/2 'fraidy cats. Cassy is afraid of baths. That means, towels, yogurt containers, any liquid in a bottle vaguely resembling kitty shampoo (this includes glasses of juice, soda, tea, anything but milk) Being picked up at anytime not of her choosing.
The really strange 'fraidy is 'Lil. 'Lil is Cassy’s daughter. She was “the little kitten” then the 'lil kitty, having never found a home she never got a name, except 'Lil. (but I digress) 'Lil is afraid of everything and everyone. She will occasionally allow me to hold and pet her if I capture her fair and square. She’ll walk back and forth under my chair until I either snatch her up or she sees me reaching for her. She will sleep with me if I’m alone, but she seems sure that my husband eats kitties. The few times he’s held her she shakes like she’s sick, then bolts at the earliest opportunity.
The odd thing is we know she has never been abused, neglected or otherwise mistreated. Except for the occasional Vet trip, * she’s never been out of our house!*
The ceiling fan nearly makes her catatonic (pun intended) She will only eat out of her bowl and only alone. When they all get a treat, the other two let her have her’s first. If one of them starts to eat, she bolts.
She does like the E-Bay song on TV though.
Heh, no kidding. There’s more planning and strategy that goes into ‘Getting The Cat Into The Carrier’ for a vet visit than in entire wars.
We bring it up from the basement the day before. I get a towel and rub it on the cat, then stick it in the carrier. Then I throw a few threats and a toy or two into it. We leave it in the living room, open, overnight. Then there’s the whole ‘picking up the cat and shoving her in’ bit. You have to sneakily pet her, then quickly grab her legs, flip her over and shove her into it in one smooth motion. I think I have it perfected.
Some of mine will willingly walk into a carrier out of curiousity, clearly having forgotten what happened the last time they did. With others I have to turn the carrier on it’s end with the door facing up, grab the cat under the front legs with one arm and hold the back legs together with the other and lower them in.
Speaking of the vacuum cleaner fear, I have scars on the inside of my left arm from one of my cats. I was carrying him out of a room when I brushed past the hose of a small portable vacuum that was sitting on top of a dresser. He freaked and dug his back claws into my arm as he took off. This was over 12 years ago and they have not faded. I call refer to them as my Clan of the House Cat markings.
Buffy is terrified of two things-visitors and thunder storms. With the former, she goes and runs under my bed and won’t come out until she’s completely sure they’re gone.
With storms, the poor thing kind of skulks around the house, trying to find a spot where she feels safe. It’s so sad, because she hunches over as she walks, staying low to the ground. She usually tries to find a place downstairs, for some reason.
Muffin was afraid of absolutely nothing, except once a year when they’d fire a cannon at the Officers’ Club behind our quarters for the Artillery Ball. Then she’d be up the curtains.
Moose never noticed the cannon, but he was afraid of squirtguns, and the time he got squirted for “interfering with a Christmas Tree” he hid under the bed for two solid days.
Tweak is afraid of a blue cut velour scarf of mine. Anytime she comes across it on the floor or sticking out of a pile of laundry, she freaks out.
Chloe is afraid of the aerosol can of Bath and Body room fragrance. Sometimes the only way to get that fat old thing off my bed so I can get in is to spray it over her head. Other spray cans do not bother her at all.
Angel/Tabitha/Emma (haven’t agreed on a name yet) is afraid of everything, and at two years old has just learned how to jump up on the window sills…she’s apparently been caged for a while. It was quite sad to see her trying to climb up on the bed, paw over paw. Maybe in another week she’ll let me pet her without running and hiding.
When I got Banzai and brought him home 10 years ago, we were running sheep in the front yard to mow the lawn. You know how cats love to lie on a windowsill, sort of stretched out and lying against the screen? Poor Banz was flaked out, and one of the ewes came up, sniffed at the screen and baaaad at him. He teleported up between the window and the screen and got stuck. We couldnt get him out until we moved the sheep out of the yard,and took the screen out of the window. To the day he died [ok, 3 days ago] he was scared of anything big and fluffy and white :smack:
My cat became afraid of the vacuum cleaner when he was six years old. Prior to his terror, he would let you take the upholstery attachment and vacuum the loose fur from his coat.
Then one day he had a very unfortunate moment of confusion in which he must have thought that the vacuum cleaner cord was his playtime shoestring.
From then on, the mere sight of the vacuum cleaner cord was enough to send him into hysterics. Not so much the vacuum cleaner, just the cord.
This same cat was so terrified of water that he actually climbed the sheer face of a painted concrete wall with his claws while we attempted to bathe him after he had been sprayed by a skunk. Poor cat had had another moment of confusion in which he thought the skunk to be his black-and-white kitty girlfriend.
Lloyd is scared of too many things to list, but one that gave me a laugh recently was when I was spooning out the boys’ wet food. Lloyd’s dish was still empty when he was nudged in the backside by his brother. He glanced away for a moment, then looked back at his dish…Aiee! Help! A spoonful of Whiskas!
I guess they make a weird sound when I walk.
