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Cats: Definitely NOT trying to kill us all...
Shadowfire
Vermont, in the middle of nowhereRegistered User regular
Vermont, in the middle of nowhereRegistered User regular
Nina made me say it. She would have killed me if I didn't. Please god, tell my family I love them...
We are servants, the few who choose this life. We wait their furry beck and call, providing food, scooping their excrement with a rake, brushing and petting them when they allow it. We are cat owners, some of us cat lovers (we are also masochists).
"Oh, you've gone out? I don't give a shit, get out. Leave me alone, I'll be sleeping. You sure as fuck better fill my food bowl first, though. Dirty human..."
On a serious note, let's discuss the furry guys and gals. How did we come upon the pets we have? [strike]What did we do to deserve this?[/strike] Were they adopted, bought, or rescued? Inherited? Some tips for fellow cat owners would be nice too, since in dealing with our lords and masters, we have undoubtedly uncovered things that they like, and may help us avoid being killed in our sleep.
This is Fred. She's a gentle giant (by giant, I mean "biggest cat in the house." She's not all that huge). Yes, she's a girl named Fred. The original owners thought she was a boy at first, until she grew a couple months older. The name just stuck.
This is Nina, Fred's sister. They're 6, and while Fred likes to jump up and lie on my side, Nina growls when you pick her up. If you can actually get her to purr, she will also drool. It's gross. Also, funny. I adopted them together shortly after I moved, and they have been great cats for the past 6 years.
Spoilered for cute (and big):
This is Sienna, eating my finger. She's kind of a bitch but she's also a whore for men. She doesn't like women much at all... but with me, or any other guy, when sitting down she will run and jump on your chest, and rub her head on your face. I rescued her when she was a kitten... she was being attacked by a skunk, and when I threw a rock at the skunk and scared it away, she followed me home. We tried to get her a home, but by the time we could, we were attached.
And this is Roscoe, the only other source of testosterone in the house. He's around 7 months now, and is another rescue. One of my wife's coworkers (who is an asshole) decided that they couldn't afford to keep him. Then they decided that a vet putting him down was cheaper than bringing him to a shelter. It is cheaper, but it also makes you an asshole. We took him, and he's a little terror. All that shit kittens do? Scratching at things, running around the house, attacking feet? 24/7. But we love him anyway.
So now, this thread demands more pictures, stories, info, and advice. Have at it.
WiiU: Windrunner ; Guild Wars 2: Shadowfire.3940 ; PSN: Bradcopter
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She is coming home for a while next month.
My parents/little sister have a cat.
Man I'm not living at home but that will be awesome.
Also, my family has a tradition for naming cats after dead composers.
Their current cat is "Rocky" after Rachmanninof.
My favorite is that my father once had a deaf cat. Named Beethoven.
My drawer broke once. She got upset when I fixed it, because she could sleep in the sock drawer.
And you know, cats and boxes...
April was found abandoned in a box by a street corner, very much pregnant, which makes me hate humanity a little bit more.
I have a friend that takes care of a few homeless cats at a time before they find a permanent home, and that's how I found April. She stayed there for a while, had her kittens, got spayed, healed up and then came to me. That was in 2004. We guess she was about one and a half years when she was found, so she should be close to seven now.
Also, the very tip of her tail is white.
The older one is Sybil.
We got her from an animal shelter about a year and a half ago.She was named thus because she has multiple personalities. Sort of goes with her two-faced look, too. She'll be all sweet and lovey and purring like a motorboat, and then all of a sudden it's time to CHOMP on your hand. She's too cute and has too much personality for us to hold it against her, though.
This is Dexter.
We adopted him as a kitten in in October last year. He was a scrawny little kitten hiding under a car near our office building. We took care of him and put up posters, and nobody claimed him, and the little bastard was so cute we kept him. He's crazier than Sybil, and smarter too. He's figured out how to paw open our cabinets and go play inside, fights constantly with Sybil and our big dog (who is a total wuss and seems scared of him), and has only two speeds: Asleep, and speed of sound. He's always looking for new trouble to get into around the house.
Here he is about to start shit with Sybil:
Luckily, she apparently studied Cat-Judo. Every time he flies at her, she does some kind of roll thing that just throws him away from her, and walks away. This usually repeats about 6 or 7 times until she gets annoyed and finds some highground like the top level of their cat tree to keep him off of her.
That is the cutest thing.
My first cat was Orange, he was the ultimate badass. We're pretty sure he died fighting the red fox who attacked him every year - and only because he was sick. The fox never showed up again, either.
Second cat was Roofus. We called him that because he showed up one day on the roof, standing on the bay window over our kitchen sink, which was about three stories up over hard-packed dirt. He was a bizarre cat with gold-flecked black fur, snaggly teeth, and a whiny nature. He just kind of wandered in and out, and eventually moved on one way or another.
Third cat was Lucky, one of three rescues from the street (one of the others was horribly sick and had to be put down, the second went to the SPCA and hopefully found a home, I called her Shy, because she was). Lucky didn't last a year, sadly, my last memory of him being him sucking on my earlobe while I was napping on the couch before he disappeared.
Fourth cat was Blaze, a tuxedo cat with a white dot on his forehead, a "blaze." He was an interesting cat, and we had some good times. Eventually he got jealous of another cat and decided he was my sister's cat to spite me. One day, he just didn't show.
Fifth cat was Jack. Orange cat. Very sweet, very adorable, but his mind -broke- when we moved and my dad forced him into a cat carry to get him there. After that, he doubled in weight and would jump off of a two-story deck to get away from my dad, or else hide under a bed.
Sixth cat is Misty. We found her as a kitten with a bitten or stung foot and so skinny she looked black, though she's a mackeral tabby (black and gray stripes). She's still with us, super fat, a bit schizo, but absolutedly beloved. She's like Rosanne in cat form, pushing around the dogs and being huffy about the other cats, but she's a big flabby pile of love at the end, even if she rips a hole in your arm.
Seventh cat was Callie. We had her for a very short time. She went out into a rain storm and, though there was a sighting, never got back home. I'm still pretty haunted by it.
Eighth cat is Cody. Black cat, kitten of a local stray, my sister rescued him from the jaws of a rotweiler - she pried him out. He had a broken jaw as a result, but healed up pretty well. He used to sleep in a bag full of black socks so you couldn't even see him. He turned out to be an incredibly loving cat, noisy, and a drooler. He also was absolutely in love with Callie, and tried to replace her with Allie later on, which failed miserably. He was, however, a wanderer, and eventually was killed by a car. Only cat we've ever known the fate of, so far.
Ninth cat is Allie, named after Callie, and nearly her twin except for a scar on her nose from when she was caged by whoever had her before. Found her behind a Rite Aid and caught her in a cardboard box - which she PUNCHED THROUGH WITH HER LITTLE KITTEN CLAW TO RIP MY HAND OPEN. She's neurotic, and skinny from it, won't let anyone pick her up, but she follows us around dutifully, loves to take meals up on top of things (and away from the other cats), and is sweet all around.
Tenth cat is Stewie, named after the Family Guy character. A pushy, adorable tuxedo cat who steals steak off your plate, bites nostrils and chins, and will push you down against the couch with his paws. He also knows how to open the front door, and is trying to figure out other doors.
Eleventh cat is Jasmine, a white and gray cat with the softest fur ever. She's a bit of a brat, and knows -exactly- what the fridge is all about, and how to get you to give her something from it. She also likes to put her paws in the water bowl and lick the water from her paws, and to drag the bowl around the floor.
Twelvth cat is Oliver, an adorable orange nut of a cat who is made purely of love and sweetness. He's a talker, but not irritating, and simply must be pet if someone is around, though he won't be too much of a pest about it. He's the perfect cat for the cynic to encounter. My mom loves getting hin to talk to the phone.
*Tiger, who's I-forget-how-old but my guess is age 16. She looks like Dexter above, but female and more of a scowl in the eyes. Last/youngest of a group of four we had for years; the other three all died of being very, very old kitties (16, 18, 22). So it's her house, basically, and she will demand food and/or attention through meowing. Loud meowing. 'Dammit-Tiger-you-woke-me-up-it's-4-AM-for-fuck's-sake' meowing. It will work, because I will do what she wants just to get her to shut up so I can go back to sleep.
*Sasha, a 3-year-old female Maine coon, who looks approximately like this.
APPROXIMATION; NOT ACTUAL SASHA
Literally came up to our doorstep one day, skinny as all hell. We see her outside, put out food for her. She shows up again a few days later, we put out food again. She shows up a third time, and we decide, okay, we might as well go ahead and adopt you. After a little bit, she gets her health back- she goes from a skinny kitty to a semi-fat kitty, she gets dewormed, etc.- and is EXTREMELY affectionate all the while to the point of annoyance.
A typical Gosling/Sasha exchange:
(Sasha hops up uncomfortably close to my keyboard while I'm working on my book.)
"Sasha, I don't need a kitty right now."
(Sasha responds by walking on keyboard.)
"Sasha, I said I don't need a kitty at the moment. Why don't you go to mom?"
(Gosling picks up Sasha.)
"OW CLAWS!"
(Sasha is quickly placed down on floor. She immediately belly-flops and looks as adorable as she possibly can.)
"Awwwwww."
(Sasha is rewarded with belly rubs.)
This is both Hrusia and Kuzia. It used to be that they flop themselves on anything I'm working on. Not lately tho.
This is Kuzia from a couple years back when he was young. I love this picture, he looks positively terrified with his paws sticking straight out of that big furball. He's friggin' huge, and he's even bigger now. I'm sure you can imagine. He's a ragdoll with a hell of an attitude. I swear he talks so much. And he actually talks to people. Doesn't meow just randomly. He'll walk up to you and look up at you and meow a few times, waiting for you to answer. I'd be like "Oh yeah? I'm also surprised by the recent fall in the DOW." and then he'd answer and so forth. Some of his meows are really odd, elongated, and awesome. Like he's slowly learning the human language. He's also a lazy asshole, which is cool. He sits on his ass all the time. Literally. Hind legs spread out, front paws at his sides, sitting straight up on his butt.. just kinda looking around. He snores LOUDLY when he sleeps. Once I thought something was wrong somewhere in the house. Someone forgot to turn something off or something was broken. I was worried. It's his stupid ass snoring in the other room.
He is the stupidest cat in the world. We found him on the streets of Brooklyn and took him into our apartment. The only emotion he ever showed was mild annoyance. He ran away like four times, but I don't think he was unhappy in our home, because he kept coming back a few days later. So my conclusion is that he is just pretty stupid.
One time he ran away and then, when he came back, he had a big cut on his face that was all bloody and gross so I took him to the vet, who explained to me that some animal bit him on the face and now he might have AIDS? Great. I didn't even know that was possible.
Then he escaped another time, which resulted in a completely ridiculous scenario because I could see him in our backyard. Unfortunately, due to the fact that our fire escape did not actually reach the ground, making it completely useless in the event of a real fire and also making it probably some kind of building code violation, I could not get down to the backyard to retrieve him. So there I was, standing on our fire escape, staring at our escaped cat, feeling absurdly powerless. The first floor apartment was vacant and locked, and of course, we couldn't ask our landlord for help because we weren't supposed to fucking have a cat in the first place! I finally got him back with the help of a friend, but it was completely ridiculous.
Oh, and the roommate who actually took him in moved back to New Jersey and left him with us, which was fine, but I think Butters developed some serious separation anxiety, because one time he broke into our new roommate's bedroom and pissed all over his bed, probably because that was the bed he used to sleep in, and our new roommate didn't like cats.
Eventually he started pissing all over our apartment even though we regularly cleaned his litterbox and everything, so we demanded our old roommate come and get him. He did, but not before Butters escaped one last time, by leaping out of our roommate's arms and bolting down the street, making us climb over fences and through people's backyard in the middle of the night. Then when we finally got him into the car, he immediately took a dump on the floor.
Now he lives a life of leisure in suburban New Jersey, and we have a new cat named Scout who came with our new roommate and never shuts the fuck up.
My dad and stepmom have five cats.
One of them is spooky and will watch you do things and attempt to do them herself. She knows how to open doors.
They have a male ragdoll that basically just lays around the house, talking to no one in particular and headbutting people instead of rubbing his face on them.
They also have a female ragdoll who never shuts up, falls over and asks what you want when you stand next to her for more than 10 seconds, and talks. I swear I've heard her say, "WHOA!!!" when I walked out of a bedroom and surprised her, and she said, "Oh God!" when she was climbing up a ladder and nearly fell.
They have a black cat with yellow eyes who speaks her own language and repeats herself when you ask her what she means, only getting louder and putting more emphasis on certain syllables as she repeats herself.
They also have a tiny orange cat who loves getting onto tall bookcases and has an unnatural love for laser pointers.
XBL : lJesse Custerl | MWO: Jesse Custer | Best vid ever. | 2nd best vid ever.
Is she a Maine Coon? That seems to be common among them (the drinking water from the paws thing).
Edit: Chasm, every cat loves laser pointers.
Not like this. And none of the other cats have any interest in them whatsoever.
XBL : lJesse Custerl | MWO: Jesse Custer | Best vid ever. | 2nd best vid ever.
What the fuck.
XBL : lJesse Custerl | MWO: Jesse Custer | Best vid ever. | 2nd best vid ever.
This is Figaro, as in the song. We also lovingly call him nudge, because if your not petting him, he headbutts you...and leaves bruises. He is 17 years old, and will talk your ear off if you let him. He rarely plays in his old age, but used to a fair amount. He will drink anything your drinking, milk, sweet tea, you name it. If he finds your cup not full enough to drink from, he nudges it over. He also used to be the fattest cat i had ever seen, weighing in at a hefty 35 pounds, but when the other cats died, and we got rid of the auto feeder thing, he has slimmed down a lot.
oh shit
?
Let 'em eat fucking pineapples!
This is Winston. He's a whiner if you pick him up, but very good natured. He's also kind of dumb but can be smart when its time to be spiteful. He's one of the most gentle cats I've ever met, and he has an absurd love for plastic grocery bags.
I've heard of polydactyl cats picking up small objects like pens and paper clips, but nothing as big as a cell phone.
the "no true scotch man" fallacy.
Please tell me this cat is fixed. For the sake of humanity, this mutation must not survive.
Your POST is fixed.
Bitch.
the "no true scotch man" fallacy.
I hate people.
My favorite was a russian blue named George, he got eaten by a mountain lion capable of opening doors.
My kitty came from a breeder
the "no true scotch man" fallacy.
Is he vocal?
the "no true scotch man" fallacy.
Cat eugenics.
I now know what I want to do with my life.
He's a professional weirdo. For the past year or so he's decided that he hates eating at his food dish, so he fills up his mouth like a chipmunk and takes the food elsewhere in the house. If you unwittingly pick him up during one meal migrations, he'll open his mouth and spill it all over the place.
He's about 10 pounds overweight but seems to like to flaunt his flab by laying spread eagle on his back anywhere and everywhere in the house. If he decides he wants to sit by you (on you), you can't get rid of him. He will follow wherever you go and plop down on you. He also bolts for the bathroom to coach you through your poops whenever he hears you in there.
Here he is being political and putting on a sticker in support of our 44th president:
This is Tiger, Taxi's brother from the same litter, and also a professional oddball:
He looks pretty normal there, but can usually be found on top of the highest furniture in the house, crying. If you talk to him, he will talk back for as long as you care to keep going.
He can identify any and all laser pointers before they're turned on, and the sound of one clicking summons him from any room in the house. Just the sight or sound of the device causes him to seize mildly, casting flitting glances to every corner of the room until you actually shine it somewhere. When you decide you're done playing with it, he will sit and stare at the last place it was shining and cry until you shine it again.
Here he is in his natural habitat:
This is Princess Leia:
She was a natural sweetie and the only normal one. Unfortunately we had to have her put to sleep a few years ago when her kidneys started failing pretty badly, but I can still remember her cuddling and drooling on me like it wasn't that long ago.
When he wants something. Also if you hold him he gets very whiny. But if you leave him to his own devices he's usually happiest to just sit near you or flop on a rug.
He was abducted two years ago.
The only thing that gives me solace is knowing that he was probably abducted by my time-traveling future self, on my way to living the good life in the past.
First off, I'm a dog person. I've been around dogs, specifically big ones, all my life. I was raised BY a Great Pyranese, my half-sisters mom raised St. Bernards, and my parents house has two Pyrs as Livestock Guardings Dogs as well as two Corgi (which as all Corgi-people know, are large dogs trapped in squatty bodies). That being said, there's always been two cats with my in my youth who were just as awesome as any dog (which is an honor in my book). Vanity, who was around before I was born, and who enjoyed laying on our dog, the personal heater blanket, as much as I did. There was also another cat at the time, Gracie, but she was a vile bitch who disappeared one day and I surprised my mom after she told me the news with "Good". I was in preschool.
There's also Captain, who is the greatest of all cats I have ever known. Had him since I was around 4, which would put him at 19 this September. He lives with my parents because oh yeah the crazy bastard is still alive and kickin. Even with no teeth, and he drools everywhere, and a tad skitzo. But I'll be damned if two years ago he didn't manage to catch a bat, in our open-loft two story house. Did I mention he's declawed? Cat's awesome. Loves EVERYBODY. There has never been an exception. Still bosses around the two Corgis. I suspect if he had a cane, he'd smack them around with it because he is boss and knows it. But never mean to them or anybody. Never gives that stereotypical 'cat attitude'. Hell, he used to play fetch with me when I was little.
So when I moved out last year, I had dreams of having an awesome pet. I couldn't afford a dog, so naturally the second option was a cat. I had dreams of having an awesome cat. I had dreams of having another Captain. What I got was Gus, who is what I believe not dreams to be made of, but crazy-people nightmares, with occasional happy endings.
Gus is ... different. He's exceptionally loving during certain parts of the day, and an arrogant bastard others. He is, of all parts, the standard definition of 'The Cat'.
Off the top of my mind he has:
- broken a window, more or less by climbing into it (old-fashioned hinged at the bottom, opened in), putting too much weight on the chain, and it fell onto the microwave. 10 minutes later, he tried to do this in another fucking window.
- jumped onto my dad's head, claws extended, on Christmas Eve. My living room (1-story house) has no attic, just open to roof with a couple beams Gus can get up too. House is old, and shorter than most. Dad is tall. Gus figures 'hell, it's a good way to get down'. Dad didn't.
- Dropped his own laser pointer into the toilet. Lord knows how he even got onto the shelf above the damn thing, even for him there is no visible way, but gf came home and found his favorite toy, along with plenty of her makeup and our bath products, floating in the porcelain pool.
- Loves to rough house. Which is probably (edit: entirely) my fault, since I want him to be a dog, but he does love it. Which is only a problem when he decides to stop rough housing with me, and tears into the bedroom or wherever my gf is, and I hear this "Oh hi baby do you want some loving come here an-OW YOU LITTLE BASTARD WHAT THE HELL?!?"
- Best moment ever was when I walked into the kitchen one morning just to witness him trying to grab the reflection of a windchime, followed it across the linoleum and literally INTO the washer. The glory of the resulting noise can never be replicated.
3DS FC: 4699-5714-8940 Playing Pokemon, add me! Ho, SATAN!
Fiddlesticks
E: Also, since I brought up the rough housing:
Yesterday, the neighboors (more like family friends) brought over their Schnauzer-mix puppy. Normally she just romps in the gated yard, but it was hot out so I told them to let her run around inside in air-conditioned goodness. They asked about Gus, and I told them he can just deal with it. Well, pup comes in, and Gus didn't do either what I expected to. First, he didn't fluff up and bolt. Not even onto a chair or the table or couch or anything. Secondly, he didn't fluff up and get fucking PISSED like most cats. Instead, the pup (Roxy) runs up to him, doing the whole 'you can't touch this' routine, jumping back and forth in almost seizure like movements, and Gus just sits there. And in a split second when the dog turns around, he pounces on her, knocks her on her ass, and he runs a few feet away. But then he waits. He waits for the dog to get up, and they basically did this whole hit-for-hit thing for like an hour.
So bizarre. Gus is probably like "Sweet, someone who can take the rough-housing, not like those pathetic humans and their 'oh, ow, don't bring out the pain oh ow'.
3DS FC: 4699-5714-8940 Playing Pokemon, add me! Ho, SATAN!