My God, I think that needs a vet.
Our old Golden Retriever, Hobbes, loved to root around in the kitchen trash whenever he got the opportunity. One day I was watching TV in the living room when I heard him getting into the trash, so I called his name. He responded promptly, but unfortunately for him he’d gotten a Corn Flakes box firmly wedged on his head. Couldn’t see a thing. He tried to come to me and crashed first into the kitchen doorway, when a dining chair, then the dining table, followed by another chair, then the couch… I laughed so hard I couldn’t even get up to help him. Poor little guy.
Our boy cat is definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s big (12 - 15 pounds) and very, very pretty - but not so swift. His sister, on the other hand, is tiny and frighteningly bright. He’s also the single biggest fraidy-cat I’ve ever seen. His customary response to every minor alteration in the world (like the phone ringing, someone standing up, the doorbell, power outages, alarm clocks and totally imaginary things) is to haul ass and hide in one of his Three Hideouts (under the bed, under the dresser, or - in cases of total emergency - in the ceiling in the basement).
He’s also an obsessive Bathroom Monitor. The other day - just after I’d finished my business and was standing at the sink washing up, he was watching the swirly flushing action (a favorite passtime of his) while sitting on the seat.
His little head was moving in a circular pattern - obviously entranced by the swirly goodness of the water going down the drain. He kept leaning farther and farther over the bowl, hypnotized by the swirly. I was sort of half-watching him when all of a sudden he just toppled forwards into the bowl. (Have I mentioned he’s not known for his grace?).
To make matters worse for him, our toilet seat lid is really quite loose. Just about any jar will make it come slamming down - which it promptly did when the cat fell in the bowl - quickly enough to trap his tail between the seat and the lid.
Oh. My. God.
He was trapped! In the water! And something was eating his tail!
So there I was, cat trapped in the toilet bowl, watching the toilet start to act like it’s possessed by particularly athletic demons. The lid would raise a little and slam back down. I could see occasional dripping-wet fur covered bits escape, only to go plunging back into the bowl as the cat failed to get anything that resembled traction - and could not get the lid to raise consistently enough to let him oooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttttttttttt!
After a minute or two, I stemmed the hysterical laughter enough to flip the lid up and out he came like a shot. And slammed face-first at full-tilt into the bathroom door. Oh. My. God. Another hellish circumstance for the cat - he couldn’t run away! The bathroom door was closed! OMG! Nowhere to run!
He ricocheted off the bathroom door and started doing frantic, dripping wet laps around the bathroom (carefully avoiding the Source Of All Evil - the toilet): Bathtub, counter, sink, my lap (cause I’m sitting down at this point because I’m laughing way way too hard to stand up), bathmat, bathtub, counter, sink, lap, bathmat. After five or six laps, he tried the door again - full on, face first slamming didn’t work last time, but it might this time and he was desperate!
WHANG!
More laps.
Eventually I recovered enough to let him out of the bathroom so he could go hide. It took him hours to come out from under the bed.
Next day, there he was, sitting on the toilet seat, watching the fascinating swirls.
My husband and I were on a newlywed trip (not a honeymoon, this was months later) to England, and were visiting friends who had taken us to Chatsworth. We couldn’t afford the tour fee, so we were just walking around the grounds. Near the river, there was a little cement stairway going down to the water, and it had short walls on either side, a bit less than 3 feet apart.
A little terrier dog was coming along with some people, happily trotting with this enormous stick he’d found. “Look at this great stick! I’m the King of Sticks!” he was clearly announcing to everyone around. He trotted over to the stairs–and the ends of the stick bonked against the walls, bouncing him backwards. He was so confused by this mysterious betrayal from his lovely stick! You probably had to be there.
Watching a 4 week old Kitten encounter a garter snake for the first time is at the top of my list.
He was out exploring the outside world for the first time, and he saw the snake and went over to give it a sniff. The snake raised it’s head a bit and the kitten freaked out. He puffed up all his fuzz and his little tail, hissedand snarled for all he was worth, and did the stiff legged bouncing thing clear backward across the lawn. But he still wasn’t quite a expert at jumping, and missed his feet, landing on his butt and rolling to his back with everything still puffed up and stiff legged.
Then he went right back up to it to play again, and the ran away again, and again, and again, and again. You could just see his new little kitty brain was completely unable to rectify the situation, as to wether this was a string that moves on it’s own, a friend to play with, prey to chase, or a mortal enemy to be feared at all costs.
We had seven domestic ducks roaming free on our farm last summer, and they were the jumpiest creatures I have ever seen. Anything out of the ordinary would spook them and they always traveled in a close group.
So one of the ducks was eating some grass or bugs or something and managed to get this large mass of weathered string from an old bird nest stuck on the end of his bill. He looked for all the world likethe AFLAC duck with a long gray beard!
This by itself was hilarious, but the aftermath was even funnier. The other ducks didn’t recognize this bearded stranger that was suddenly in their midst and took of running and quacking like mad. Old Beardy didn’t understand what the commotion was about , but didn’t want to be left behind, so he took off running after the group.
For about 5 minutes we had pandemonium as this bearded duck was chasing his compatriots around the yard, until the beard fell off. I was physically rolling on the ground laughing at the spectacle.
I laughed my ass off at that picture and it had nothing to do with the ball on the dog’s head.
That is a dog, right?
Sorry. 
Re: Cats in plastic grocery bags. I have heard many cases of cats doing that and have witnessed my own cats doing it, but it never ceases to be funny.
My mother used to feed the squirrels around her house. She had a regular routine, if she was late one of the squirrels would come to the front window and stare in and tap on the glass as if to ask “where’s my peanuts?”. Eventually, he started coming to the front door. I didn’t believe this until one day I was visiting and heard this tiny tap on the front door, opened the door and saw nothing until I looked down and saw the squirrel, “Mom! Your squirrel is here!” He waited patiently on the front step until she brought peanuts.
I had some foster kittens one time, a boy and a girl. The boy was pretty tough at five weeks of age, and he would try and dominate his sister by roughhousing the way kittens do. One day while she was sitting down, she got sick of him stalking her and decided to scare him off by using her “angry cat” body language. Except in the heat of the moment she forgot how to do it right.
All she did was open her mouth and raise her front paws above her head. No puffy tail, no hiss, no laid-back ears, no claws. Just a friggin adorable wide-eyed innocent kitten with her paws straight up and her tiny pink mouth half-open.
She got creamed by a body tackle.
I posted this story a few years ago, but it’s resisting all efforts to retrieve it via search, so I have to retell it.
This goes back a while, to my high school years. I grew up in a small town, my state’s capitol, where there was very little for an energetic adolescent to do. As an example, one thing my friends and I would do was go to the capitol grounds after dark and basically hang out. Lots of open ground, manicured lawns and flower beds, beautiful buildings and features (monuments, clusters of flagpoles, reflecting pools, etc) illuminated by bright night-time accent lighting. And best of all, it was very quiet; there was rarely anybody around.
So one night, we’re sitting on the steps of the capitol building, looking out across the large central courtyard. Opposite us, maybe a football field away, is the state supreme court building. We’re just chatting quietly.
Then a huge shape detaches from an upper corner of the courthouse. It’s an owl, absolutely massive. It spreads its wings and glides silently into the courtyard.
It’s a rare, wonderful, utterly majestic sight. Awe-inspiring. We are all reduced to wordless silence, enjoying the beautiful, elegant creature.
That is, until the stupid bird WHANGs head-first into the flagpole in the middle of the courtyard.
To its credit, it didn’t hit the ground. It bounced off the pole, which was now ringing with a resonant BONG, and fluttered earthwards, but managed to recover and fly off in a different direction.
Hysterical laughter, needless to say, consumed us for many, many minutes. Even now it’s hard to believe it actually happened.
I have bottle raised a lot of kittens, and they are so entertaining! One time I had a litter of six, and all of them were doing quite well. They were just starting to walk fairly well. They were all out of the kennel exploring the world while I fed them - with six it takes a while. I had to go to the kitchen to heat more formula. When I came back, one of the kittens who hadn’t been fed yet had found my lap towel, which was liberally dotted and splashed with formula. He was hungry - towel smelled like food - so it was his! He had the towel firmly clutched in his almost toothless mouth, backing away from his littermates and growling. He probably weighed all of 6 ounces at the time - I laughed until I cried.
Always good for a laugh is when kittens do the “Halloween Cat” thing - back bowed, fur standing out, tail fluffed - then BOUNCE!
Holy Hell-hound, Batman!
:eek: 
I have a Black Lab that is now 14 years old. A couple of years ago he had to go to the Vet for something (I forget now what exactly) and ended up having to wear one of those cones on his head.
He was trying very hard to accept this demeaning circumstance, but you could just see in his face that he was totally embarrassed.
I let him out into the back-yard to pee, and a few minutes later I heard this “clunk” sound.
I looked out the back glass sliding door, and there he was with his cone of shame up against the glass, his big, sad, brown eyes following me back and forth while I laughed from inside the house.
Then he gave me this look of total disgust with my laughing at him, and walked away into the yard, (questioning himself I am sure) for letting me be his “Master”.
Wow! I chased LifeOnWry’s cat under the bed with the power of my words! Now I’m gonna have to decide if this evens things up between me and the felines for the lion that peed on me.
(Sorry if kitty got a boo-boo, Life.)
I had a colt named Tane (many moons ago). He was about a year old and not yet full grown. I boarded him at a ranch and he shared a corral with another yearling (whose name I have forgotten). One day I was cleaning the corral and the gate got away from me and swung open hitting Tane in the rump. He jumped straight up in the air and came down straddling the fence! His front hooves were on the ground outside while his back hooves were dangling in mid-air on the inside of the corral. In my desperate attempts to lift him off the fence the gate swung open again and his stable mate got out. Suddenly, the top rail of the fence split and Tane was able to untangle himself from it. Now both horses are loose and running around like maniacs with me in hot pursuit. Not a day I’d like to repeat. :smack:
On another occasion, when Tane was still very young and not yet weaned, my mom was helping me clean the corral. We were scooping poop and dumping it in a wheelbarrow. I looked up just in time to see my mom bent over working the shovel with Tane eyeing her behind. Before I could say a word he mounted her, with his front legs coming down on either side off her head. I have never seen such a startled look on a person’s face as she abruptly straightened up. :eek:
OK here’s another one:
Boy Kitty is our silver-back - the alpha kitty; he silently rules the house as all defer to him. He’s 15 years old and exists for treats, belly scratches and lots of naps. Gatsby Cat is seven months old, doesn’t have an off button and is hopelessly addicted to the fake-fur covered mice. He will bring them to me and fetch them for hours. (I think in his last life he was a Labrador.)
So I’m sitting on the bed. Gatsby brings me a mouse and I toss it in the hall. Gatsby goes batshit crazy trying to catch the mouse then he brings it back to me. Over and over and over again. After a while, I toss the mouse but, mid leap, Gatsby falls to the doorway carpet, perfectly still. After about 5 seconds, Boy wanders into the hall, sniffs the mouse, pronounces it disgusting and slowly moves down the hall. Gatsby lays there, not moving a muscle, until Boy is out of eyesight. Then Gatsby attacks the mouse and brings it back to me. It was like a freeze-frame as the monarch passes.
My mother’s cat likes to steal groceries from the bags as my mother’s unloading them.
One day, she ended up with a giant tomato. After carrying it around in her mouth for awhile – head tilted waaaaaaay back, in a futile attempt to see over it – she decided she’d had enough. After looking around carefully (but not carefully enough to see my mother watching this whole event), she buried it in the rug in the front hallway. And it was well hidden… until my step-dad came home and stepped straight in the center of it.
Oh, that reminds me of another odd thing our little pug does: when you give her a treat, like a Greenie or a dentabone or something, she doesn’t eat it right away. First, she walks around with it for a while, jutting from her mouth like Churchill’s cigar, looking for something. What she’s looking for, it turns out, is a good place to hide it. Usually, she tries several different locations: she’ll “bury” it under couch cushions, “digging” to cover it up. She’ll hide it under her bed, or under some toys. And she whines with frustration when the hiding place isn’t quite good enough.
Eventually, she always finds the perfect place. And there the treat remains buried…for about 10 seconds. Apparently, that’s enough to satisfy her “hide the food” urge, and she’ll then dig it up and eat it.
Two wildlife stories.
Once while camping, a cute little ground squirrel about the size of chipmunk would beg us for food. We’d toss it small pieces of bread. It would scurry over, sniff, and then sit back on its haunches while nibbling away at the crumb held in its paws. Very cute!
My dad takes his camera and cautiously approaches it for a nice shot. He got to about two meters away and snapped the picture. Click! At that sound, the little fellow plopped over and stopped moving. Like he was shot and playing dead! After about five seconds he hopped back up and resumed begging for food.
Another time, I was leaving the library, headed home. The library had a decorative edge about shoulder height, just wide enough for a squirrel to walk along. The sidewalk was close to the building, but not up against it.
As I was walking along the sidewalk, a squirrel on the edge saw me and decided he didn’t like it. As I walked, he would scurry ahead on the ledge, always staying a little bit in front of me. No problem, until we reached the end of the building and the edge stopped.
What was the squirrel to do? Got to escape the human… Hmm, I’ll jump toward that nearby tree? And so it jumped. Problem was, the tree was out of his jumping range, and even worse it took him on an intercept course with me! I tried to stop to avoid him, but he landed on my foot. I promptly shook him off, and boy did he go flying! Crazy!
My neighbor has a Black Lab/American Pitbull mix. It looks like a very springy black lab with a slightly bigger head. Beau is not the brightest dog in the world, but he is a hoot to watch.
One day I look out to see that Beau has a cone about his head. Apparently he had surgery on something. It didn’t embarrass this doh doh head at all.
He trotted and pranced about the yard like nobody’s business. It was highly entertaining to watch.
I called my neighbor and told him his lightshade had escaped.
My Dog:
I have to say one of my favorite memories of my 12 year old lab was in those first few months of puppyhood. My husband would be on one end of the kitchen floor and I on the other and Murphy would hide in the kneehole for the desk.
We would bounce a tennis ball back and forth and she would rush out trying to grab it. It was vastly entertaining to watch. We did this nearly every night for months.
Eventually, she tired of the hiding and running and just sprawled on the floor right in the middle of the ball’s path and moved her head to snap at the ball as we bounced it over her as low as we could.
I really wish camcorders were around then, that is one of my fondest memories.
Once we were walking along a narrow trail with a few curves and a bunch of underbrush on either side. Suddenly from around a curve a skunk came bounding straight toward us. We froze. It froze. Then it turned tail and ran back in the other direction. Whew!
Except a few seconds later, back it comes again, sees us, turns around and runs the other way. This must have happened 4 or 5 times. Eventually we realize there must be another group of hikers coming down the trail and the skunk is “caught” between us. We stepped to the side of the trail, ready for the next pass, but at the same time, it occurred to the skunk that it could go sideways and it headed off into the bushes.