Lou (or whatever his name happens to be that day) (and sorry for the crappy cellphone pic) likes sleeping in the middle of the kitchen floor. My mom says she finds him on the clean beds and couch all the time, but I hardly ever see him sleeping anywhere but underfoot, just waiting to be tripped on. He likes being petted, but if you pet his tummy he’ll attack, and if you nudge him with your foot he’ll attack that no matter where you touch him. He also enjoys nuzzling the food container as you pour it into his dish, but he does it so vigourously it usually results in the food spilling everywhere.
My other dear cat (rest his precious soul) used to drink exclusively out of the toilet. He’d also play fetch. I miss him!
Bubba the Wonder Doof is notoriously full of quirks. He has a mania for sweets, particularly of the cake-ish variety. He will occasionally remember that he is essentially a carnivore and deign to eat a bite of hamburger or chicken. At random and deeply annoying intervals, he will leap at my head from behind, wrap his freakishly strong forearms around it, and gnaw on the back of my skull, apparently to get at my delicious brains. When I open the freezer door, he likes to leap up and just sit there in the freezer. He doesn’t try to get at the food. He just likes to sit there. He can be very cranky about it if you try to remove him before he’s done.
Bogey, the newest addition, is only about 3 1/2 months old but is already showing signs of quirkiness. He is, as are almost all cats, irresistably drawn to Bubba. (Bubba is like kitty crack to other cats. They are drawn to him like stoners to a free buffet. He is not pleased with this.)
Bogey’s enthusiasm for All Things Bubba extends to the litter box. If Bubba gets in, the odds are that Bogey will be right behind him. Sadly, this has become rather literal.
Recently, I noticed that when Bubba assumed the position, Bogey wanted to get an up close and extremely personal view of the procedings and stuck his head up underneath to watch. The first couple of times he did this, I pulled him back out of harm’s way.
The last time, however, I just let him be, figuring he’d get out of the way. He didn’t. I ended up having to knock the chocolate log hat off his head and then give said head a good scrubbing. Bogey considered this quite unreasonable.
Boo, on the other hand, is a very patient and sweet-natured boy. His only real weirdness is that when you yell “NO!” at him to get him to stop what he’s doing, he’ll actually stop doing it.
The late Shae (sorry no pictures until I do some unpacking) was fond of Corn on the Cob.
Yes, we would hold it up and she would eat it off the cob. We thought at first she was just licking the butter, but we found out she was actually eating the kernals. She would sit and beg until we held the cob up for her to eat.
Stokie once got too nosy and had Edison poop on him too. God, was it hilarious. He was… surprised. Not a very bright cat.
Rico, I’ve heard several people say their cats are corn fiends. In fact, there’s a lolcat example. (That cat totally looks like Dewey, down to the sketchy eye expression.)
My current cat, Oreo, likes to drink out of the bathroom faucet. I turn on the water so that there is only a thin stream, and Oreo gets in the sink and sticks her tongue in the stream of water. She also likes to nap in the sink when it’s dry.
My sister’s cat, Tinkerbell, was once found in the kitchen trash can licking some melon rinds after my mom made fruit salad. We should have taken pictures of that. Sis says Tinkerbell likes to sleep on her hair at night.
We have five cats. One likes to lick plastic, one hates paper, one likes to be “up”, one is a roller, and little Graycie likes to pose herself as bloated road-kill and have a stare-down with me.
Thought of another on for my cat (and probably her oddest thing) - she likes to jump in the empty laundry basket, and get picked up and spun around in it (like kittie on a roller coaster). If you put her down before she’s done, you get scolded for it.
Spotty McGotty also sleeps with his head jammed into my hand. He likes to sleep with it butting up against anything, but if it’s a hand, it’s even better.
Tuna likes to attack my glass of red wine, from behind me, spilling it. Not white wine, not mixed drinks, not beer, not water, not soda. Just red wine.
The first time this happened I started a GQ thread about how to get red wine out of white cat fur. (Answer: “white on white” solution)
He also likes to hang out with me on the couch like this and gets irritated when I’m not positioned such that he can do so.
I remembered a couple more Bubba quirks. He likes to stick his head inside those plastic grocery bags. He then presses his head against the plastic and look around. Yes, Bubba looks at the world through plastic-bag-colored glasses.
He’s crazy for those tiny stuffed mice. (Actually, all the B Boys consider them to be the Best Toy Ever.) However, if in the course of playing with one, it lands inside anything (a shoe, a box, whatever), it’s like it sailed off the flat edge of the world and it’s gone forever.
I’m not talking about it being hidden in those objects. It can be right there in plain sight and he’ll just stand there staring at it, meowling pitifully until either I get up and retrieve it for him or his brain cell shuts off and he forgets about it. I love him but the boy’s just not right.
It’s true! Feather does have a thing for laundry baskets and being carried or swung around in them! Little freak!
Another one for my weird cat is that Max has an obsession with freshly washed, still damp hair. If she gets close, she’ll clamp on with her pointy little claws and start licking until a) she gets all the water off, b) she gets too tired to continue, or c) she gets physically removed from the task. Did I mention she purrs her damn fool head off the whole time?
Truffles likes to eat lint that she finds on the carpet.
Mr. Cole Kittles is weird incarnate. His newest trick is hiding his nearly 20 pound body behind something small like a paperback book, or a piece of paper. He’ll then rush out at one of the other kitties, but too meek to actually attack, he’ll stop about an inch away, then slink back to his hiding place. He’s also TERRIFIED of shoes. If he walks around the corner and sees a shoe on the floor, he jumps about a foot in the air. More sad than cute, I guess. I think he may have been abused before I found him.
Watson prefers that no one be standing up. Here he is voicing his displeasure. He also thinks a fur-lined pair of shoes I have are his kittens. If I leave them out, he’ll groom them until the fur is all spiky and gross.
