Our Cat

[Leothebear]

Charlie adopted us when a particularly cold winter (2010) came and we were charmed by his vocality and general friendliness as he begged for a home. He was in great nick, shiney coat, quite chunky - he'd done well on a diet of rabbits that proliferated in the field opposite. So he was allowed in. Temporarily said me but Charlie had other ideas. Ours was his home now. In was wrong he was right. We thought he was about 4 years old.

To be honest Charlie has been no trouble. No illnesses, he doesn't attack birds and he's social - unless you stroke him in the wrong place when he'll give you a swipe. That's the good side. Then as he matured:

When first adopted Charlie would eat all that was offered but gradually he got fussy. Many of the normal cat foods were unacceptable. He started to stalk his food as if it was likely to be booby trapped. He still does. He will never finish a meal - whether packet food or roast chicken or anything from our plates. He has become a spoilt fussy little git.

He has become deaf so he cannot hear his own voice. Consequently his meows have become YEOWELS and often echo around the house as early at 4.00 in the morning demanding something new for breakfast. I slavishly get up to attend to this monster and he religiously tries to trip me going down the stairs. He'll then take two bites of his his food and walks away disgusted. I hate this cat. I truly hate him. But then I love him. The bastard.

[AleisterCrowley]

Ah, wish I had a cat - even a troublesome one ! The single life gets a bit lonely as the days draw in
Don't have a cat flap, and I'm at work during the day 3 days a week (and not sure I could put up with cat harassment when working from home...)

[todthedog]

We have a cat born in French cellar adopted as a kitten but wild at heart. Even now 15 years later hates being picked up but at the time of her own choosing will arrive on you lap to have her head rubbed for this service you are rewarded with claws in the leg. She enjoys Lidl pollack fillets one a day, with help yourself dry food, we went through many brands before one was deemed acceptable. Fish is served at 5pm and reminders are issued if service is late, you can't get the staff!

Of course she is adored by us.

[AsleepInYorkshire]

It was 9am on a Monday morning. I was sat at my desk in my office at home. The phone rang. It was my good lady. She was sniffling as she said "I'm at the vets". My heart jumped out of my chest. I looked down at my feet and sure enough there were our two dogs. Fast asleep on their respective beds. Somewhat puzzled I asked her what she was doing at the vets.

As she walked the last 10m into her workplace a somewhat disheveled and clearly injured dog limped towards her. Her front paw was off the ground. She was clearly in a very bad state. At this point my good lady picked her up and took her to our local vet.

That evening we visited the vets. He was fairly confident that the front leg could not be saved. She had also had some surgery that afternoon to have some chicken bones removed from the top of her mouth. Her teeth would need further work. At that point we weren't liable for any of the costs.

The next day we placed an advert in the local paper. "Found, lost dog". Two days later the phone rang and a quietly spoken gentleman told me it was his dog. I asked him if he knew the dog was quite badly injured and would need some care. When he told me he was aware I was a little shaken. I asked him how long she had been injured for and how she had done it. I didn't really get any sense from him after this. In a rare moment of sanity I refused to give him our address and told him I was going to notify the RSPCA and would gladly hand the dog over to them. Needless to say he wasn't pleased with me.

The RSPCA confirmed that the dog did belong to the gentleman. His daughter who lived as a single mother at home with her parents had a baby. To protect the baby the dog was put outside permanently. It had no kennel. It had fallen off a dwarf wall and injured it's leg about six months ago. They could not afford to take the dog to the vets. The RSPCA went on to say that they would take the dog into their care.

However, my good lady didn't warm to this to well. So we adopted the dog. She did have her front leg amputated. She did wreck the dining room curtains and she also needed a hysterectomy. I think in all it cost about £1,500 in vets bills. As she recovered she began to bond with our two mutts and loved to play with them. Our dogs had access to the back garden through their dog door. It wasn't uncommon for them to run around the garden chasing each other and to "fly" through the dog door, through the kitchen, through the dinning room and into the cul-de-sac which was the lounge. As she recovered our new friend joined in with them. As well as having one front paw she also had a 4/10 limp in one of her rear legs. The fact that she could move seemed remarkable. She could run, but not with the agility of the other pair. She even managed to use the dog door with time.

I have an enduring memory of her being chased by the other dogs but never quite understanding she had no front paw on her right hand side. The result was she tumbled more often than not trying to corner to her right. She always got up, shook herself and carried on.

She lived with us for a further five years until she passed away.

AiY

[sg31]

AIY, That story is uplifting and sad at the same time. Thank you for sharing.

[tjh290633]

What this thread confirms is that people do not own cats. Cats own people.

TJH

[OLTB]

Our cat is a complete pain in the @rse and reflects a lot of the above comments.

He will only eat certain food and if I dare to put anything else down, looks at me and walks away.

If he allows you to stroke him, he will close his eyes, but every now and then out of nowhere will swipe his claws into your hand and jump down.

He will sit by the patio doors to be let out and when I open them, he walks away back into the house.

12 frustrating years so far.

I love him to bits and wouldn't change a thing

Cheers, OLTB.

[sg31]

Fussy eaters. My sisters cat's eat anything, if they turn their noses up at food, they get the same type at the next meal until they eat it. Once they get hungry enough they eat it. It may be that having 2 helps, healthy competition for the food.

I'm not a cat lover, I don't dislike them, I just don't love them.

[Rhyd6]

We have 3 cats at the moment, the oldest is 19 and the 2 younger, brother and sister are 4. They are total pains in the rear end, fussy eaters, turn their noses up at their own food but will eagerly devour any rabbit they happen to catch. At night they sleep in the utility room which has a cat flap to outside but during the day they just find the most comfy spot in the kitchen and woe betide you if it happens to be the chair you wish to sit on - tough. Our oldest cat ever was 23 when she died and believe you me there were a few tears shed when she went. I put their electric bed heaters on yesterday ( what do you mean spoilt!! it's damn chilly at the moment) so we haven't seen a lot of them today but no doubt once the novelty has worm off they'll be back to torment us.

R6
ps. I bet yours wait until you've just settled down to watch something on the telly then they march over to the door and demand to be let out immediately. Dogs have owners, cats have staff.

[AsleepInYorkshire]

AIY, That story is uplifting and sad at the same time. Thank you for sharing.

If I recall correctly it was mid afternoon. I looked in the fridge for the steak which I needed to marinade for the barbecue that night. It was missing. I shouted up the stairs. "Darling ... dear one where's the steak?" "In the fridge". I recall checking the fridge again. No steak. At that point I mused to myself that someone had left the fridge door open and our 14 year old geriatric dog had helped herself to an early tea.

I popped around the corner and purchased more steak. I put it in the fridge. made sure the door was shut and went for a shower. As I passed Mrs AiY on the stairs I asked her to put the steak into marinade for me. Not long after she shouted up the stairs, "Darling ... dear one, where's the steak?". I replied "In the fridge".

Upon arriving back downstairs I was told the steak was gone. "You must have left the fridge door open". We didn't feed the dog that night.

Over the ensuing weeks stuff went missing from the fridge. We checked and double checked every time we opened the fridge door that we shut it. One evening I walked into the kitchen to see the dog stood slightly to one side of the fridge door pulling at the bottom of the door. She managed after about ten more seconds to open the door. She stuck her head in and started to look around. I couldn't tell her off

We fitted a child lock of sorts. I always felt she was a very intelligent and clever dog. I clearly underestimated that.

AiY

[nimnarb]

Ahh memories come flooding back.............

Minou was a fearless 4LB Yorkshire Terrier who took on any dog, loved and licked to death anyone(loyalty to us be damned, well, at times) and had this terrible habit of attacking anyone on a bike(actually caused a guy to fall and fracture a rib) and was a racist to boot.

But his biggest laugh at our expense was playing dead and I'm not joking. We had this bean bag and he would launch at it like some crazed gymnast flying at the vault at 50 miles an hour, trying to shred the thing to pieces so much so that the beans inside and the noise it made must have driven him mad and he made sure that most days for at least 15 minutes, the pummeling it took was enough to send us at times to look up the definition of madness in dogs. And then it just stopped, the noise. The flap of the bean bag was now covering him and nothing moved. 2 minutes, 5 mins, 10 mins When this first started, was obviously concerned. Just thought he had exhausted himself so checked to see if he was ok and he without blinking stared back at me(i never won the stareing game without blinking first) without moving whatsoever until I either backed away, lost the blinking game or when he was ready or he smelt filet steak.

However, he also used to go missing for hours on end and its not as if it was easy for him(so we thought) to get out of the house, but perhaps we did indeed leave a door open. The amount of times he used to somehow get between the cushions of a couch, sofa, into a shoe box and just not make a sound. We shouted we called and nothing! The equivalent of when we were kids, counting up to 100 and then you would go and hide and see if anyone could find you. Very worrying at times as we looked everywhere outside, then got into the car and searched for hours, only to come back and see him waiting by the front door, probably thinking what a load of idiots I have for owners. I swear he was smiling at us. So we cottoned on to his tricks.

So, one day, he did his usual bean bag thing but this time did not come out and there was no movement at all. When i looked, his breathing was fast, eyes were slightly glazed and just didn't look right. Rushed him to the vet. The vet placed him onto the table and the next thing I remember was being given a brandy by my vet with concerned faces from him, his assistant and the wife looking down on me as I had somehow gone onto the table!!

Now I remember a very strong smell of something and immediately my head started swimming and therefore went outside to get some air(whilst they were checking on Minou) and then woke up on the table. Apparently I had fainted, as my wife went to find me on the floor outside and got the vet to help get me back inside. I to this day, have no idea what caused this. But the point of the story is that my "git" of a dog was running around the room, barking and licking everyone in sight as if nothing had happened. Vet found nothing wrong at all! Got the bastard back home, I'm still feeling a bit off and rather silly and this lunatic launches himself at the bean bag and does his usual 15 minute party show.

Move on many years and he is now 14 and not doing well. Blind, deaf, no teeth and when he doesn't eat his filet steak or pate, we know it's coming soon. I have tears streaming down my face as I write this but his last bean bag performance was his parting piece. No more launching at it, frantically trying to rearrange the beans, just went in there, the flap came over, but this time he didn't come out on his own. Miss you Minou.

[PinkDalek]

We fitted a child lock of sorts. I always felt she was a very intelligent and clever dog. I clearly underestimated that.

I take it that wasn't the one-legged dog.

[UncleEbenezer]

We fitted a child lock of sorts. I always felt she was a very intelligent and clever dog. I clearly underestimated that.
AiY

For what it's worth, I've known many dogs who can open a door. Including operating a handle, and in one case pulling on his master's dressing gown cord (on hook on door) to get out of the bedroom.

I think we should regard it as normal for a dog, with the subnormal or cruelly repressed[1] being the exception. Your dog had seen her humans operating the fridge, and was aware of goodies in there: what more should she need? I guess taking your steak without making a mess of anything else was quite smart, but she really should have shut the door afterwards.

[1] As in, too scared to try anything interesting. Not as in having been told firmly that the fridge is out-of-bounds.

[AsleepInYorkshire]

We fitted a child lock of sorts. I always felt she was a very intelligent and clever dog. I clearly underestimated that.

I take it that wasn't the one-legged dog.

No it wasn't the three legged dog

Although I was tempted when I found out the dog was a fridge raider

AiY

[bungeejumper]

Too many stories to tell about our two moggies, twin tabbies, who had been born in a dog's basket and who weren't afraid of anyone. By day, they were great household pets, good with children and full of affection. By night, they turned into killing machines and earned their keep in the farmer's barn, where they made impressive inroads into the rodent population. The only rats we ever saw around our garden were the especially big ones that they'd bring home dead, just to show them off to us before they ate them.

The smaller one courted disaster on the day she decided to go for a fine cock pheasant that had settled on our garden wall. It was much bigger than she was, and it would have given her a very instructive flying lesson if she hadn't lost her grip and bottled the capture at the very last moment. But the other cat committed a murder that we still haven't confessed to.

One day the farmer's daughter arrived, looking very distraught, to ask whether we could help her to recapture her escaped cockatiel, which had made a bid for freedom after the wind had blown the cage open. The bird was sitting about thirty feet up in a very tall cypress, shivering and looking terrified, but it wouldn't come down for anyone, no matter how hard they all tried. We tried putting its cage in our front garden, but no joy, and as night fell there was nothing for it but to leave it till the morning.

In the morning there were green feathers all over the ground, and no sign of the bird. Apart, that is, from a noticeable bulge in the cat, and a smile on the face of the tiger that we've never quite forgotten. "Ooooh, I'll have another one of those please", she said to us. "Spicy oriental, my favourite. Got any prawn crackers?"

The farmer's daughter was distraught. We blamed it on the owls. Twenty years later, the guilt is still with us.

BJ