So, What Can You Tell Me About Your Cat(s)?

I started a thread for the dog owners out there. So, I figured I had to be PC and include cats in the discussion. I’m not a cat person in particular, mind you. However, my girlfriend is, and she’d be pissed if I didn’t ask about cats. :rolleyes:

I have met one cool cat in my travels. . .

I had to house sit my buddy’s cat, Potato. Potato would crawl atop my chest at night and wait for me to open my eyes. When I did, I’d see the silhouette of a cat’s head quickly followed by a rain of blows from tiny cat paws… Damned cat. I’ll give him this, he had alot of personality. He’d hang out on your shoulders and give little cat massages. However, as he became older, he went the way of many cats and grew distant from the human population. He was soon the kind of cat that would leave the room when you walked in. Now he often spends days away from his home, walking the streets… alone.

Potato… What happened man? We used to be cool.

So… What’s up with your cat(s)?

We have two cats, both picked up as adults from the Humane Society a couple of years ago, when they were both adults. (I used to work at the HS - I KNOW all kittens can find homes. Adult cats have a harder time)

Wren they thought was about 3 years old, She was a 5 pound ball of sneezy, congested bones - but boy, could she purr. She is a medium haired brown tabby - and for some odd reason, I had started to fixate on thick-haired brown tabbies.

It took several visits to my own vet and a couple of e-vet visits to cure the gunk she showed up with - and to find antibiotics that she didn’t react badly to. She weighs about 10 pounds now, and is still purring. She eats papers when her dish is empty.

She owns both of our dogs, and any other dog that enters the place. She doesn’t HURT them, just puts the fear of Cat into them. She sleeps wherever she wants, as long as it is VERY warm. Often under the sheets, these days.

Phoebe was about two when we picked her up, same week as Wren. She has silver hair, with white paws and a lightning stripe down one leg. We had been checking cats out at the HS. We were currently in a visitation room with Phoebe. The announcement came that if you wanted to adopt, you needed to head to the front desk - they were closing for the night. My spouse said “I have no idea why, but I want this cat!” - the cat hadn’t been friendly, interactive or playful… but she did have truly gorgeous eyes…

We took her home. She hissed at the dogs once, and decided that she LIKED dogs. Much more than they like cats. We have to lock her up anytime a dog comes over, because she will go up and head-butt any dog - whether or not it has just taken a hunk of fur out of her.

She is a painfully curious and active cat, and thrives on driving me nuts. Any object lighter than an anvil must be knocked off any horizontal surface. Water glasses must be explored by paw. Sleeping bodies are made for running over repeatedly before they wake up enough to catch you. Spouse says Phoebe is a wonderfully snuggly purry cat. Sure.

Phoebe and Wren were instant best buddies - they sleep all curled up in each other, play together and hatch plots together. Wren keeps Phoebe occuppied, Phoebe keeps Wren from gaining 400 pounds.

Fetchund - is there a reason you names your cats after birds? :slight_smile:

My wife and I have two siamese attack cats. The male is long and lanky, full of piss and vinager. The female is pudgy and sits around a lot.
Male - he’s trouble, you can tell.

Female - she’s a lump. But the better fighter of the two. :slight_smile:

I have five of them . It’s not my fault though! Once upon a time I adopted Kali and Durga from the animal shelter. Then my ex, who had 4 cats (some may remember him as nen) joined the Army and had nowhere for his 4 cats to go. So they came to live with me “temporarily” until he could find them a home.

His 4 cats were a mommacat and her 3 kids that were abandoned in the woods and had gone mostly feral. Nefertiti, the mommacat, is so so teeny because she was starving trying to keep her kittens alive. She’s the best mom ever.

Well, that was… hm, maybe 4 years ago now and they’re still living with me! Durga did NOT play well with others, and was mean to my 4 adoptees, so Durga went to live with my parents, who had just lost one of their cats. She’s much happier there.

Thanks for noticing! Birds are my passion. Check the dog name thread. A ton of people think we are TV addicts, though - Phoebe from Friends, Ren and Stimpy… but I’ve never seen either show.

Here is a link to a page that, through the grace of Photoshop, shows all four animals.

I have 3. First came Molly, then came Punky, who are brother and sister. I got Molly, followed a week later Punky (long story why the separation in time). Punky was named Punkin, but I’m a nick-namer. Molly is Little Girl, Chicken Little, Molly Little, Molly-Wolly Puddin’ Pie; Punkin is Punky, His Lardship, Fat Ass, Spuddy-Buddy and Snugglebutt.

Then when, the old boy, Trouble was obviously not going to be with us much longer, we got the Emergency Backup Cat, Rio, aka Wee Kitty, Handsome Boy, and Shithead.

They get along pretty well, except for Rio teasing his big sister sometimes.

They’re both shelter cats, and the Dope helped me a lot with both of them, so this is probably not news to anybody who posts in kitty threads.

Dewey I got as an adult, my first cat. He’s a brown tabby and he’s about two years old. He’s sweet and a little shy but very people-oriented. He likes to have his tummy rubbed. He has recently taken up mountaineering, probably to get away from Edison. I don’t really want him up on top of the cabinets, but it so clearly makes him so happy that I can’t really make him get down. He rolls around up there like it’s made of catnip. His other hobbies include licking the inside of Edison’s ears and watching the street in case something happens.

Edison is a fat little orange guy. We got a kitten even though I really wanted to get an adult cat because we thought it would be easier on Dewey and because my boyfriend really wanted a kitten. He’s very fat and funny looking. (He gets plenty of exercise - plenty! - and we don’t let him eat too much. He’s just fat and we’re hoping he grows into it.) He’s got way too much energy. He purrs so loud you can hear it over the phone. He also likes belly rubbing, but it’s just too much pleasure for him and he gets all squirrely and squirms around and falls off the couch. He makes a lot of funny noises. Sometimes he’s kind of mean to Dewey, but Dewey seems to enjoy mothering him patiently, so I guess it’s okay. He has always longed to play with the fan chains that hang down over the bed where he can almost reach him. One day a month ago, the BF held him up so he could bat them around, and now it’s become an obsession with him. He’s always begging us to let him bat them or trying to jump up and bat them on his own. He’s getting better at jumping up to get them - you can tell because he seems to have turned the fan on.

We have six. Denver, Annie, and Shiloh came from a friend’s farm (they were all born in the barn); Fiona and Hope came from the Humane Society, and Tigger came from a nearby family who discovered their daughter had an allergy to cats, and they had to give him up.

They all get along pretty well. Every now and then, there’s a bit of trouble–Shiloh and Tigger aren’t on the best of terms–but for the most part, things go pretty smoothly. Hope is probably the friendliest and most outgoing, Shiloh is the shyest. Fiona enjoys playing with her ball. Denver likes getting brushed, and Annie makes sure we don’t forget to fill the food bowls. And if we had a Cat-English dictionary, I’m sure we’d find that Tigger was saying “Duh” much of the time. He doesn’t seem too bright.

But they’re good little guys and great company.

I have 2 cats. I got Seamus shortly after breaking up with my boyfriend and moving into my first-ever all by myself apartment. I was originally looking for a small dog to keep me company, but I am picky about small dog breeds (read: find them annoying) and the animal shelters in the area didn’t have much to offer. So I started looking at cats, and got Seamus because he had these gigantic, silly-looking curly eyebrow whiskers. He’s definitely an interesting-looking cat. (Here he is as a rather small kitten still. That’s not me, it’s my friend) He’s a medium hair tuxedo kitty.

Shortly thereafter my boss rescued a kitten who had taken a nap in his engine (totally unharmed! despite a 10 minute drive) who was a female tux. I took her in, and named her Kiara. I unfortunately have no pictures of her. She was a little lion, even though Seamus was at least twice her size, she showed him who was boss, hissing and spitting and very assertive. She liked to sleep in my pajama drawer (she was tiny enough to crawl under the dresser and squeeze behind the drawers) until she made friends with Seamus, who is a very friendly cat.

I only had Kiara for a month or 2, because she died in a freak accident. She was wearing her collar (all my cats wear collars, in case they escape) and it got caught on the chair she was sitting on, and when she jumped off she strangled herself. I was at school at the time, and came home to find her dead. Wish I had been there to save her :frowning: We gave her a good send-off, though, a Viking funeral because she was such a badass.

So, thoroughly depressed by the loss of that cat, and upset that Seamus was searching for his friend, I bought another kitten, Bridget. She’s a grey tabby. She was the opposite of Kiara in regards to Seamus- Kiara hissed if Seamus was laying on the other side of the room, but Bridget completely ignored him for a week, even if he was in her face sniffing her. They eventually became friends too (Seamus wouldn’t have it any other way- he is very friendly to other cats) and now spend their time grooming each other or chasing each other across the apartment. Awwww.

They used to be indoor/outdoor cats, because having them both in my tiny apartment really screwed with my allergies (yes, I am allergic to cats. But I now have 2 air purifiers so I am ok). I lived on a quiet street next to an empty lot, and they had a great time. Even made friends with the family of strays that lived in the empty lot. But Seamus, apparently, rides the Short Bus[sup]TM[/sup] because he liked to lay in the road. He followed my friend Marc (his unofficial dad) across the street one morning, and sprawled out in front of an on-coming SUV. Like an idiot, he looked up when the car came barreling down the road, but did not run, or even duck, and took a freakin’ bumper to the face. He shot off like lightning and hid under my building, and it took many hours of crawling around in dirt under pipes to find him. Took him to the vet, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. So, because he is Special, he and Bridget now live inside. They are still making friends with neighborhood cats, though, because my neighbor saw them sitting on the windowsill when I had the windows open, talking to a cat who was sitting on the AC.

Bridget is an attention whore, and will climb all over anyone who comes to visit. Seamus is more aloof, but he still loves being held. It just takes him a minute to warm up to people. They don’t sleep in my bed anymore, because they like to sleep on my head and my allergies aren’t up to it.

My remaining cat is ex-feral. He’s 18. Yes, that’s in human years. He was born in March of 1989. Doesn’t do much anymore at all. Lots of sleep, little bit of eating. The vet says he is ‘in good condition for his age.’

He has senile dementia and his hearing and vision aren’t what they used to be, but he’s the oldest cat I’ve ever personally seen.

My cat enjoys hiding behind things that in no way can contain him. When he was a kitten, he used to hide just his head behind a box, and be entirely surprised when we could find him. If he couldn’t see us, how could we see him? Gus also loves his food, and will go sit by it to keep intruders away from it. (Apparently the same goes for the dish soap and vegetable oil.) He also enjoys going down into the basement and rolling around on the floor, which leaves him covered in clay dust and therefore orange. Mostly, though, he enjoys attacking feet, which means he looks like this a lot, poised to clobber the hell out of your toes.

We have four cats. My wife rescued Zippo from the cruelty and neglect of his previous owner, one of her roommates, before we were married. Roomie threw a drunken bash, where somebody brought a pit bull. They locked Zippo in the bedroom, but he was sticking his paw under the door. The dog clamped down on his paw and would not let go. Zippo was screaming and injured. Somebody finally got him off, and roomie was unconcerned. My wife took him to the vet and had his leg repaired and bandaged, and became his new de facto owner. He was our only pet for two years, until we moved to the house where we live. He must have been separated from other cats quite early, beacuse we never heard him meow until he met Simon.

When we moved, a beautiful, if somewhat scrawny, orange-striped tabby kept coming to our back door, meowing and scratching like he wanted to come in. We already had a cat, thanks, and we ignored his pleas. Then one of the neighbors told us he belonged to the people who used to live there. When they skipped out on the rent, they left him behind. So now we had two cats. It was a bit tense between him and Zippo for awhile, but eventually they would sleep on the bed in an uneasy truce. Simon asserted his dominance, and gives Zippo tongue baths on his head. Zippo seems to solicit them. We think he learned to meow from hearing Simon do it.

A couple of years later, a friend of my wife’s pointed out an ad where someone was giving away a tiny tortoiseshell kitty, because their new baby was allergic to her. “Oh, please, can we have a new baby kitty? Please” I don’t think I’ve ever seen my wife happier than when I said it was fine. So Phoebe came into our lives. I was the first one to hold her, when we picked her up, and she still loves to climb up my chest and have me hold her and pet her like I did on the first day. She was the runt of the litter, and she’s still very tiny, for an adult. She’s very proper and finicky and particular, and she doesn’t snuggle or play with the other cats. She sort of tolerates them.

Last year, one of my wife’s co-workers had to move, and they took their kitten to the Humane Society. But this stupid woman lied to her daughter, telling her that they gave the cat to us. No such thing had happened, so we had to go to the shelter and rescue this cat from an uncertain future; not so much to save face for Mom the Liar, as to save the kitty. So we got a new kitty and called her Maggie. (My mom’s name was Margaret, for which Maggie is short, although she was never called that. And she hated cats.) She’s all black, like Zippo. I’ve never known another cat like her. She’s unbelievably smart. She plays fetch with bottle caps. She’ll chase them down the hall as long as you want to throw them. She loves to play in the bathtub. She gets into everything. Maggie and Phoebe have an adversarial relationship. If Phoebe comes into my room or the bathroom and Maggie follows, Phoebe gets mad and leaves in a huff, and Maggie chases her out and around the house, at top speed. They never do damage to one another, though. Maggie has the most pitiful meow that never falis to melt your heart. She loves to climb up on me and have me cradle her with my left arm and pet her all over with my right hand. She’ll go to sleep in that position, if I can stand to sit that way long enough.

It’s both hilarious and intriguing to watch the relationships between the four of them. Zippo and Simon don’t play. Zippo will play with the other two. The two girls play this game where Zippo lies on his back, and either Phoebe or Maggie will stand at an angle to him, and leap without warning onto his chest. They wrassle until it becomes a chase scene. There’s no shortage of entertainment at our house!

I never had a cat until I was 39. I didn’t know how interesting they are, and how different their personalities can be.

jjimm (aka Mr Writer Chick) and I belong to Cookie. I got her from a guy I used to work with six years ago, when his cat had a litter of kittens. (Am hoping he then went and had said cat seen to but spared him the lecture).

She is adorable and yes, we love her like a child. Call her a child substitute (although not sure if she can be a substitute for something we don’t want) but she is very, very loved and very loving in return.

She likes her food a bit too much though and is on a diet. (I know the feeling Cookster)

We have two, Ricky and Micky, both came from local people.

We started with Lucy in 1992, a sweet-tempered gray tabby. A couple weeks after she came to live with me, I decided she needed a buddy, so I found Ricky, he’s black on white with some brown tabby in him.

Ricky was always smaller than Lucy, and considering he came later, you’d think he’d know his place, but he was alpha cat within a couple of days.

They were indoor/outdoor cats, but Lucy’s death in 1995 convinced me that was a bad idea, even in a small town on a street with no traffic and no roaming dogs. We came home one evening to find her lying dead in the street.

So Ricky became an indoor cat, and a few months later when a friend of my stepson’s had kittens, we adopted Micky.

Micky is a lap cat, about 18 pounds, loves everybody and loves to talk. Ricky is lean and stand-offish and spends most of the day under a bed, but when he wants to be petted, he won’t be denied. He won’t just sit still and be stroked though – he’s constantly moving and offering his butt to your face.

I’m getting too old (and lazy) to deal with litter boxes, so these two will probably be our last. :frowning:

ETA Micky looks a lot like Cookie, above.

I currently have three. Quick history:

My ex had a friend at work whose cat had just had a litter. We had just had my Schnookey (yeah, I know) put down when she offered us the pick of the litter when they were old enough. Friend is married to Air Force guy who doesn’t particularly like cats; one night, he decides to be a total dck and locks momcat out of the house. Poor kittens are now cut off from nutritional source and AF Wife is too cowed by Airman Dckhead to confront him over this. Ex takes all 7 (!) plus mom into our home. A month later, we find homes for mom and 4 kittens and keep 3.

Champagne (aka Big Boy) is the male; also the reason I don’t need an alarm clock. At 5:30 every A.M., there he is, giving me headbutts and yelling in my ear for breakfast. If it’s my day off, I’ll feed them and go back to bed. At 8 he’s back, same routine–because I’m in his nap spot!
Oh, and if the dry food bowl gets below a certain level, he’ll follow me around the house yowling till I fill it.

One female is Caviar (aka Pincess). 4 words: “It’s all about ME!”. Now, I know cats are generally like that, but she is the goddess of selfish. Has her lovable moments, but mostly pretty aloof. When she is lovable, she likes to snuggle in armpits–ex calls it “nursing”.

The other is Chance (aka Big Tiny). She was the “runt” of the litter, always being shoved out of the way at mom-feeding time. My ex, Og bless her, fed her from a bottle until she got stronger–she’s now bigger than the other two and is the attention hog of the group.

I currently have “custody” because my ex had to move to a place that didn’t take pets. They just turned 9 and I love them to pieces. (So does my current wife, but she won’t admit it.)

Lucretia D. Hellcat is 11ish years old. I am not exactly sure how old, because I am the thrid owner. She used to belong to my ex-roommate, but I kept her when he moved out, because the cat hated me less, Also, Maggie Wonderbeagle is rather fond of the thing. The cat also barks and eats Milk Bones.

Here’s Stiggs, His Imperial Fluffiness. He adopted us as a tiny kitten maybe six weeks old. We were driving back from Portland to Sacramento and it was about three in the morning --I was dead tired from driving and we stopped at a rest area to take a little nap. We were awakened by the most piteous yowling and I got out of the truck to see a tiny white fuzzball meowing, then running away, then pausing to look back and meow again at me. He eventually hid himself away between the back tires of a parked semi and I reached in and pulled him out by his stripy little raccoon tail. He was a little freaked out but settled down almost immediately on the SO and slept the rest of the trip back to Sac. He was absolutely determined to be an indoor kitty, but we had an unaltered female and were wary of his nuts, but he won me over by insisting that my feet must always be cold and in need of a fluffy kitten to drape over them to warm them up–who could resist such a creature? We got him neutered as soon as we could so he could be indoors with the rest of us. I’ve had him for eleven years now, and he’s taken to being an outdoor cat most of the time. He weighs about 17 pounds but looks bigger because of all the fur. He regulates all the neighbor cats with roundhouse slaps from his gigantic snowshoe feet and his incredibly confident aura–even the toughest tomcats give him a wide berth when he stalks toward them. He’s very much the elder statesman of the SmartAleq household and every other animal defers to him. He just lives for petting and is especially fond of foot pets, he throws himself in front of me so I can scruffle his belly with my toes. He comes when I call him, is that the cutest thing? He also answers to Tiggers and Steeeeeegs.

This orange hellcat is Pratchett. He’s just two now, and is tipping the scales at about twenty pounds, not one ounce of which is fat. He’s mostly Maine Coon and he has more personality than any five other animals combined. He’s almost two inches taller than Stiggs and a lot longer–it’s very obvious when Stiggs comes in the house and Pratchett greets him by draping himself along Stiggs’ back for a ride over to the food dish. Stiggs tolerates this, amazingly enough. Pratchett and Widget are best friends and chase each other all over the house. Pratchett isn’t allowed out without supervision, as he has absolutely no fear of anything and not the slightest bit of caution. He doesn’t always like to come back in, so Widget has learned to herd cats in order to assist us with bringing in the hellion. His favorite game is play fighting with the SO, which he does with amazing vigor and the most bizarre of noises–he’s both very talky and extremely opinionated. His funniest trick is leaping straight up to wrap himself around the SO’s outstretched arm, totally trusting that he’ll be caught in midair. In spite of all the sturm und drang he’s amazingly gentle and doesn’t sink his claws or teeth in at all. He never attacks me, though, and I can pet him as he’s in full blown attack-kitty mode with the SO and he knows the difference and won’t zap me. He fetches and will take food out of your hand, regardless of whether you actually offered it to him or not. He doesn’t like kids much, unfortunately, and will whap them on the head if they get too close. Also answers to McPratchett, Orange Mick, Red Devil, Orange Bastard and Dammit. Has the softest fur of any animal in the world, he’s like a giant chinchilla with huge pointy teeth.

Fatcat is the matriarch of Catville. She is somewhere in excess of 12, having been here when I arrived. She warbles instead of purring. A very affectionate cat, she has had many litters.

Blackcat is one of Fatcat’s babies. She is also somewhere in excess of 12, for the same reason as her Momma. Her tail is broken, but still attached. A vulture cat, she likes viewing things from above.

Fuzzcat is a siamese-something-ese who needs brushed or shaved. Badly. She camps out on the back porch, under the porch, or in the flower beds, and howls for attention and/or food.

Kittenator, Speedo, Mr. Earl, Flash the SpedCat, Cali, Little Peep, BumCat, Meg the Bitch Kitty, and FuzzNuts have all come and gone in Catville.

Luna-brat was about 6 weeks old when we acquired her. Hubby and I had just purchased our very own house (no more renting! yay!) and I felt a kitten was necessary to complete the decor. One of my co-workers gave her to me. I don’t think she’s quite right in the head. She drools copiously when she’s being petted, and she demands petting a lot. She’ll also launch herself straight up from the floor and land on my shoulder.

Oreo came along a couple of months later. Luna had turned into a total velcro-kitty and I was on the lookout for a playmate for her when one of my cops found this little black and white furball loitering around an apartment building on the edge of town - there’s a “name my kitty” thread about her around here somewhere. I believe she’s roughly the same age as Luna; at first she was the smaller of the two, but she bulked up quickly. When I first brought her home there was all kinds of hate and discontent and hissing for about a week, but now Oreo and Luna have fun together, chasing each other around, destroying my house, and snuggling.

Every morning when I get home from work they’re right there at the door, greeting me, because their food bowl is empty. Oreo meows a lot, but Luna never says anything unless she’s managed to get herself locked into a closet, which she does with alarming frequency - see above comment about not being quite right in the head. Oreo is a laid-back, friendly little thing; Luna loves only me and my daughter, and will follow visitors from room to room, glaring at them and occasionally hissing if they look at her.

They make a mess and irritate my husband to no end, but I lurvvves them.

This is Kitta , and I am the second person she has owned.

I started out cat-sitting for her last August. It was a friend-of-a-friend, and I never heard from them again. So she’s been here with me ever since.

It’s been interesting watching the process of her coming to know and trust me. It took her a few weeks to sit on my lap, then another two months to come sleep on my bed with me. Now I get lots of snuggles, so I think I have been accepted as her official property.

A very vocal girl, with a sweet voice. She greets me at the door when I come home, and then likes to sit on top of the computer monitor.

Hobbies: Playing soccer with wads of paper, and chasing the laser pointer.