My first kitty, Raven, was a take-no-shiat brawler girl from the streets, and she lurved her some men. More especially, she adored my younger brother. Most especially, she adored him when he’d just come in from mowing the lawn.
This was when we were both in college and home for the summer. It was a big backyard, nearly an acre, and Dad supplied only a push mower. So Phoukabro would spend the morning mowing, then come in, get a cold soda, and collapse on his bean bag chair. Then, the cat would find him.
And she would make long, sweet love to his armpits.
Getting weirded out by this did no good, as she would not be discouraged. It was best for Phoukabro simply to lie back, extend his arms over his head, and let her have her way. After about five minutes per pit of rolling, snuggling, cheek rubbing, loud purring, and a little chewing, she’d go her way, relaxed and happy.
Phoukabro tells me he always offered her a cigarette afterwards, but she never took him up on it.
My cat Black Sabbath (passed away in 2007) was meticulous about keeping her fur groomed. She’d spend ages licking and cleaning and then curl up in a contented little ball…then I’d come along and stick my face right in the middle of said ball, which would still be damp with tongue-lines, and go kisskisskiss “I love you I love you I love you!!!” To which she would raise her head, glare at me, then commence the fur-grooming all over again. As soon as she was done I’d repeat the pet-pet-pet-kiss-kiss-kiss, she’d repeat the glare, groom her fur again…this would go on all evening.
Back in college, a friend of mine had a border collie mix rescue. One day, someone spilled an entire package of Pop Rocks into the carpet. She found it and started lapping it up. Never knew a dog could make that face. The snapping inside her mouth didn’t deter her; just … confused the heck out of her. slurp slurpslurp slurp
Not funny so much, but I find this odd and this is the closest thread I could think of.
When I leave for an extended time I give my dog a chew-treat. It is meant to give her something to do while I’m away. However, a good part of the time she saves it until I get home. When I do get home, after she does her happy dance, she’ll snatch it up and go somewhere and chew it up.
That reminded me of a couple of cats we had when I was a kid. One was the older fatter cat and one was the younger spryer(sp?) cat. Older cat of course resented younger cat.
I was sitting on my bed one day reading when the younger one discovered a game for himself where he would leap up and bat with his paws a piece of ivy that was hanging down the wall from a shelf above. I watched out of the corner of my eye while he did it several times and the older cat sat watching also from the bed.
Older cat decides he won’t be outdone by younger cat. Climbs down off the bed, takes a running start, and hurls himself at the wall with all his might. His entire body and head smacked the wall with a thud a good foot under the ivy.
He walked away shaking his head after ringing his own bell while the younger cat waited till he left the room to resume his game.
This happened a few years ago when the Three Boys were still with us. (Apologies for the quality, it was scanned from a conventional photo.)
Anyway, this incident happened once when we had the bathtub full of water in the middle of the day for some reason since forgotten; it was just plain clean water. Our three Himalayan/Ragdoll mix cats were chasing each other all over the apartment at breakneck speed, all the more remarkable since they were all over 16 when this happened.
We saw them dash, one behind the other, into the bathroom.
KER-SPLISH!
KER-SPLASH!!
KER-SPLUSH!!!
Then after a short time they emerged, one by one, soaking, sopping wet (they were all longhairs).
And of course they all had the classic “I totally meant to do that!” look.
Haha…my dog does the exact same thing! Whenever I’m leaving the house for a while, I give him a rawhide chewie, theoretically to work on while I’m gone. But as soon as I get home, after greeting me with paroxysms of joy, he immediately grabs that untouched rawhide and demolishes it in short order!
Years ago I had a large backyard with a blockwall just short of 6ft tall. I had 5 dogs that ranged in size from cocker spaniel size to 30" at the shoulder. They kept getting into my neighbors yard and then escaping. I could easily imagine the larger dog jumping the fence but the others just were not good jumpers. It got to the point where it was happening more frequently so I set myself up to spy on them out my back window. To my amazement I see the large dog set himself up next to the fence and the four others climbed on his back and jumped over, when they were done he followed. I have never seen or heard of this since.
Something sorta related that our old pug used to do: when we gave her a little treat, she’d immediately take it and start looking for a place to hide it. Usually it was in the couch cushions somewhere, or between pillows on the bed. She’d sort of “dig”, and hide it, and consider it for a while. If the hiding place wasn’t good enough, she’d dig it back out, whine a little, and look for a new hiding place.
When she finally found a satisfactory hiding place, she’d leave the treat “buried” there for about 5 seconds, then dig it back out and eat it.
Kayla, my dog, is a mix. She looks like a half sized Rottweiler, with a more wedge-shaped head.
When she was a puppy, she wouldn’t chase balls. She’d run with other dogs, if we were visiting somewhere, and try to block them from bringing the ball back. Then, when half grown, she caught the bug.
Now chasing balls was her favorite thing. We’d play in the back yard and she learned that if she came running up and let go of the ball while screaching to a halt, that the ball would roll the last yard to my feet on it’s own. That gave her more time to wheel back out for another throw. Cleverness! Efficiency!
Then one day instead of standing on the walk to throw, I stood on the porch, which was two steps up from the walk. She came skidding up and was very surprised that the ball bounced off the step back at her instead of continuing up both steps to my feet.
You could see from her face and from the set of her whole body that she was perplexed. She tried it a few more times and thought it over a lot before letting it go, because: Ball! Ball! Throw the ball!
My dog Shamrock is a bit of a clod, but a sweet and friendly dog nonetheless.
Out front storm door was falling out of its frame and my wife hated, hated that door because it was just kind of a cheap one with half a window. She wanted a full window so you could see the front door behind it, so a few weekends ago I pulled the storm door out and we went to go buy a replacement. Unfortunately, our front door was of an unusual size, so we had to have it ordered. No problem, but now we’re without a storm door for a few weeks and Shamrock got into the habit of running out onto the front porch to greet us when we open the door.
Cut to this Tuesday when the new door arrives and is installed. The wife comes home and Shamrock bounds out through the doorway to greet her, immediately meeting the new storm door with her head. Bonk.
My previous cat did the “I don’t know which way the door swings” shtick, too. She’d get trapped in rooms with the door wide open. And I swear, every time she jumped up on the couch, she gave you this look like she’d never seen you before in her life. Sweet cat, but one of the dumbest animals I’ve ever encountered.
My mom’s cat (one of above cat’s kittens, actually) has one of those sticks with a long soft “tail” attached to it, that you can swing around for the cat to chase. Once everyone has gone to bed, he’ll drag the tail along the floor until it’s laid out in a straight line, and then he’ll walk along it like it’s a tightrope, all the while making that mournful “I have a bird in my mouth” cry. No idea what’s going on here.
I have two boxers, so every day there’s something to laugh at
This morning was a wild game of chase on our hilly yard (about 2 acres). They went flying past me, then round a tree and a big rock. Stopped and stared at each other for a moment, then took off again. This happens all the time, one of their favourite games. But this morning, when they took off again, they both took off in opposite directions, expecting the other to be chasing them. The eldest was running past me, realised something wasn’t quite right and was looking over her shoulder for the missing chaser dog… They both realised nothing was chasing them, but the eldest actually ran straight into a huge bush while looking behind trying to find the other dog.
I was killing myself laughing. She looked a little bemused (in a “who put that bush there?” kind of way), but once she saw I was laughing, all was good in her world and she was happy.
Shortly after that the little dog went tearing past the elder one and the chase was on again (properly, with one chasing the other). hehehe
My wife’s cat is a female Himalayan exotic. Lovely, gentle nature, dumb as a box of rocks and ugly as sin.
Before we had her desexed she would go into heat fairly regulary (she was an indoor cat at the time) and anytime I called her name she would let out a plaintive “reeowww” and wiggle her butt in the air at me. If anyone else called her she would just ignore them, only I could get that reaction.
Apparently my voice is the cat equivalent of Barry Whites’
When my kitty Meenow was about two years old we bought one of those “fishing poles” which was a dowel with a long elastic (similar to those on paddle ball boards) with a small stuffed fish on the end. At some point the line came off the dowel but we would still fling the fish around for her to chase it. Whenever she did grab it she really liked to stretch the elastic, and she also liked to snap rubber bands or use her teeth to twang other stretchy things she happened upon.
Once day I tired of the game before she did and threw it out into the middle of the floor. She picked up the end of the elastic and jumped up on to the couch, and then up on to the back of the couch. This put the fish on one of the couch cushions. She then proceeded to spit out the elastic, hold it down with her paw, and reach down and bite lower down the elastic. Then she stretched her head up to pull it up, and again pinned it down with her paw, moving the fish a few inches up the back of the couch. She repeated this procedure carefully and methodically five or six times until she raised the fish all the way up to where she was.
I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but then it got weirder. She picked up the fish and dropped it back down on the couch and performed the entire ritual again. We never left the fishing gear out unattended because it was a choking hazard, but after that day whenever we got it out she always grabbed it and headed over to the couch for a serious fishing session.
Jezabel has several nicknames. When Alan brought her home she had a cold. He was dangling her over his head and she sneezed so her first nickname was SnotRocket. She also had a propensity of snarfling down her kibble and throwing up. Hence, HrockMeister. Her more common nickname is Bunny because she proinks around like a rabbit does when she is really happy about something.
She gets hairball treats in the morning at 5 am when we get up, and at 9 pm at night she gets some other of those temptations cat treats. She can apparently tell time, because she will prance in just before the alarm goes off, and up on the bed until she is snorfling in mrAru’s face trying to wake him up. At just before 9 she prances in to beg me for her evening treats. She knows when to expect mrAru back from work because she will go sit by the front door about 5 minutes or so before his regular time.
She insists on snuggling in a specific position at about 1 pm, when I get my afternoon nap attack. If I am not home, she cries at our roommate Phlip until she comes in and lays down and snuggles with Jezabel.
slurp slurp 
