An ex-police officer told me that when she was in the force a colleague attended a house which contained the decomposing remains of an elderly woman.
The deceased had two pets: a dog and a cat.
According to the former cop only one of the two pets was still alive when the officers arrived at the scene.
While the canine lay dead near its owner the feline was alive and purring thanks to chomping on its human mother.
After hearing this harrowing tale of death and people as pet food, I jokingly asked my cat whether she’d dine on me if I met the same fate as the aforementioned female.
After demanding dinner, moving to the middle of the big couch, ignoring her new toy, sleeping and demanding more dinner she looked at me archly and slightly nodded her head.
She then yawned, and, eep, licked her lips.
Now that my pet is currently having a catnap on her window seat and thus some distance from my innards I can take a look at why dogs are better than cats, a new book by Bradley Trevor Greive (dog lovers don’t like capitals).
Greive’s volume, which is filled with gorgeous glossy photographs of pooches and pussy cats by Rachael Hale, is funny and enlightening, although it’s guaranteed to anger those who like to project non-feline traits onto their feline babies.
It’s perhaps this tendency to want cats to be something they’re not which might partly explain the shocking rates of cat dumping.
According to Greive:
In the USA last year, some ten million lost and forgotten cats and dogs ended up in rescue shelters. The records tell us that stray cats are fifteen times less likely to be claimed from the shelters by their owners than dogs and are also at least 30 per cent less likely to be adopted by new owners. As a result, cats made up most of the five million abandoned pets who never found another loving home and thus, after a short and terrifying period of confusion, were euthanised via lethal injection.
Greive contends that dogs are smart, loyal, adventurous, good companions, brave, have different personalities (as opposed to having a sociopathic/narcissistic personality disorder) and will love you no matter what.
Since Greive contends that cats train their humans it’s difficult to understand why he also thinks they’re worthy of wearing a dunce cap.
When push comes to shove (“I’m getting off the couch, Spotty”), Greive thinks cats are cute, cuddly, dumb and lethal*.
Frankly, I think those who adamantly declare themselves to be dog people or cat people are similar to religious fundamentalists.
Cats and dogs are different and that’s all good so embrace the difference, dog people and cat people.
However, Grieve’s book made me laugh out loud and it’s beautifully put together.
*Admission - My cat once killed a moth.
Catz rool dogs – as iz evident from yr pic!!1!!
Mroaw!
Mroaw?
MROAW!!!!!
Your Honour, the defence rests.
My fool of a dog is out there barking at the moon. Wish I could do that 2.
But I think the dog is meant to look friendly and loving, while the cat is tricky and sly lying on the friendly and loving dog’s head.
Just a theory.
It’d be fun, Grace.
Very cathartic.
My cat just saw a bug so she’s a little excited (excited like a cat so she won’t be needing Ritalin or anything).
Did they frisk the cat for a can opener though?
We had a cat for 15 years.
He had, shall we say, a certain reputation in the circle of family and friends.
We admired his independence for at no stage did he acknowledge that he was our ‘pet’ or that his species was inferior to ours.
Surely an admirable trait.
And there was no denying his grace, beauty, intelligence and athleticism.
Now we have Hannah our pure bred mongrel collie/kelpie.
The family claims we, particularly me, are ‘besotted’ [thats the word they use] with her, that she is spoiled.
Absolutely true of course.
What Meggs the cat achieved with haughty demands backed, if necessary, with teeth and claws, Hannah achieves by soft eyes and a willingness to please amounting to emotional blackmail- “I love you and if you love me you will do….”
Works a treat.
And there is no denying her beauty, intelligence, loyalty, grace and athleticism.
Even the non dog loving rellies ask her to come and cuddle them on their couch when we visit.
Different tactic to the cat, same result.
Mcduff the wombat was our other pet of the past few decades.
He had cute and cuddly all wrapped up, in spades.
Softest fur imaginable, imagine a small bundle of fur wiggling up inside your jumper heading for the warm smelliness of your armpit and then curling up in a ball and sleeping there securely.
Or walking in the scrub with a young Mac ‘at heel’ exploring his universe.
Ah, parental responsibility.
Until he went through puberty and turned into a vicious 35-40kg powerful bundle of teeth that would attack anybody on sight. Anybody. Everybody.
My niece has a permanent scar on a portion of her body thanks to Mac, she got it while he was in his transition to beast stage. But she won’t show me where. She was cuddling him on her chest at the time.
Hannah’s mum has a scar from Mac that I am allowed to see.
But we loved him.
And cried, all of his victims, when we sent him to live [I can't say where] in his version of paradise far away from humans.
Moral?
They are critters.
And wonderful in their uniqueness and their individual qualities and each to be treasured for what they are.
The older I get, the softer I get.
Why is it bad that the cat sensibly ate its deceased owner? I will never understand that. It’s not like the cat killed the person.
Indeed, lilacsigil. I’m fairly sure that when Mr Snuggles tries grooming me, he’s actually checking to see whether I’m edible yet.
I don’t mind Siamese cats. But then again. they are really dogs in disguise who can climb up curtains.
My cat, Sheba, certainly sees me primarily as a source of food, whether that extends to eating me if I were her last resort I’m not sure. I forgive her for being such a selfish feline because of her friendship with my dog, Tacker. They have been together since both were six weeks old. She follows him on our morning walks, and the two mooch and sniff around companionably together. Evenings when we return in the car from our beach walk she sits on the garden wall waiting to welcome him home, and pounces on him to wrestle around for the few minutes before supper appears. She joins us on our late night toilet sortie too and ambushes Tacker in the shadows from behind trees, playing chasey with him along the safer stretches of the street.
I love them both, of course, but Tacker loves me back for more than food and shows it all the time. So I can comfortably vote for Tacker here, knowing that Sheba could care less.
I was once witness to a half-hour argument between two workmates about why cats/dogs were better than dogs/cats.
The rest of us who didn’t feel strongly either way wished we could have sold tickets to watch the event.
dj,
I myself have gotten pretty hot under the collar defending cats in dogs v cats arguments. Just recently there were a few “why won’t the council control all teh catz” articles on The Advertiser’s website and some of the vitriol towards cats from the anti-cat elements of the public can be astounding. Way too many “the only good cat is a dead cat” redneck comments. Clearly if it refuses to fetch the paper & slippers for you in the morning, what good is it?
Someone once said to me you can go away and leave a cat on it’s own and it will find food & water but not a dog as the story above demonstrates.
I think dogs are popular because it’s reassuring to have one living creature in your life that is shamelessly deferential and pleased to receive your attention. Dogs fit perfectly in human social requirements. Cats … well, it depends on the cat.
Cats are definitely better. If they were just a little bigger we wouldn’t even need to have this discussion because the cats would already have wiped out the dogs. They’ll kill anything they can and do so with great abandon. In cat terms there are cats, there are people that feed cats, and there are tasty snacks.
We have two dogs, mainly my partner’s love, although I’ve come to love them despite the smell, mild allergies they induce in me and the two holes in our gorgeous tibetan rug. Not to mention the habit of eating unmentionable things.
My vote personally goes to house bunnies. My current bun is a mini-lop called Hector. House bunnies are rather like silent vegetarian and (usually) more friendly yet cranky cats.
We have determined in our house that whereas dogs have friends and cats have staff, house buns have minions. We exist to get vegetables from the fridge and give head / ear rubs.
I always had a cat or two until a few years ago. One cat I had would come with me and my dogs when walking the property. He’d been shot in the eye but recovered. My most recent cat was also shot, this time on my land from outside by a spotlighter. Our area was declared cat free and no new cats are permitted.
And right on cue my wife has called out to tell me that a cat has appeared from under the shearing shed! I hope it helps itself [sure it will] to some of the bunnies that live there during its visit. On my blog there’s a pic of my cat, two dogs and long-beaked corella from a few years ago enjoying time with me.
“Did they frisk the cat for a can opener though?”
Tee hee, I would have to check the inquiry report.
I agree Hannah’s Dad.
“Different tactic to the cat, same result.” Absolutely.
Cat was just using its survival skills, of course. The dog evidently valued loyalty over survival. Both valid responses.
Paul, I actually think ginger cats are dogs in disguise. I used to live with one (RIP Jack) and he was quite empathetic. It did pick up on when one was upset. My current cat doesn’t, but that’s not her role.
Exactly, Patricia, cats don’t care. Your situation shows there are dog people who are also cat people. I know someone who has two dogs and two cats. She loves them all (alas, one of cats was mauled by a stray dog).
Dogs do suit the human ego (think of the way certain types of blokes pick certain types of dogs) and cats suit themselves. The trouble is there are many cats dying because of humans and our lack of care.
This is where Greive’s point is most persuasive. Take cats for who they are and keep them whoever they are.
The reason that cats don’t get rehoused and dogs do is that – despite their ‘loyalty’ – dogs will love anybody.
Thus a lost or abandoned dog will transfer its ‘loyalty’ and love freely to any muggins who takes it home from the pound.
Cats don’t do this. You have to earn their affection. They don’t just give it away to anyone who happens to come along.
Which is, of course, the irony of the situation: cats are seen as stand offish because they don’t go up to complete strangers and demonstrate affection (I CAN get almost any cat to do this, but then I speak a few words of cat, which they appreciate) whereas dogs will slather affection over anyone who says ‘Hello doggie’.
True Story – my mother was a dog breeder a long time ago, of borzois, and she was friends with an old lady in camberwell who passed away from natural causes.
Her skeleton was discovered 2 months later, and there was dog poo all over the house. Two skinny, mad borzois, but alive.
There is also the concept that cats and dogs are ‘classed’ as having a ‘gender’. Dogs are okay because they are ‘male’ and have ‘jobs’, while cats ’sponge off blokes like women’.
A simplistic, but apparently telling argument for some in this continuing debate.
(And I’m not admitting to being on the staff of two cats or holding demi-god status for my dogs *wry grin*)
mehitabel @ 19,
All of my cats were adopted. Most of them turned up at the door. I fed them and they kept on coming back and eventually wormed their way inside the house. A couple have even travelled or moved house w with me. (One was a ginger cat that would only eat chopped liver. Somebody told me in horror, on hearing this, that chopped raw liver was not good for cats.)
Mostly, though, I’ve had dogs, bought either from pet shops or breeders, and for the past thirty years either whippets or chihuahuas. (1 whippet, 3 chihuahuas.) With the death of my last chihuahua several years ago, I gave up on pet owning – apart from cats and dogs I’ve had mice, goldfish, frill-necked lizards, rats, tortoises, canaries and budgies; think I draw the line at snakes – not sure -. One of the problems with being a pet-owner is its very hard to get a good-quality flat to rent if you have a pet. And after living in dumps for years, I decided to go a little up-market in my accomodation. Hence, no more pets.
I love sighthounds wilful and often they can be a bit cat like – a bit more stand-offish to strangers, but very loyal to their owners. The Nordic breeds tend to be like that as well. But I think it’s true that dogs will ove anybody. I do dog-minding as a small side-business. Most dogs settle in to being in a new household within a couple of hours and are very quick to identify me as the new source for all their needs. The separation is usually harder on the owners.
I think one major difference between owning cats and dogs, is that dog ownership forces you out of the house to walk the dog (hopefully). This means you tend to meet other dog owners and form friendships with them, as well as being very aware of what’s going on in your neighbourhood.
And thats what makes the affection you get from a cat so much more satisfying.
Although my wife can make this rather unusual miaowing sound that will attracts pretty much any cat she directs it at and they will often wander up for a pat. Even has worked on the small “cats” at the zoo.
I read somewhere that cats only ‘meow’ because humans react it and they don’t do it in the wild.
Anyways, got some friends who took in a feral that lived in their hood – it took a lot of time and coaxing but its pretty well domesticated now. Point of the story, to show appreciation and affection it doesn’t meow but hisses. It’s quite disconcerting actually.
http://www.catladiesdoc.com/
Or, as American ABC asks, “When do you cross the line from being a cat lady to being a crazy cat lady?”
If ginger cats are dogs in disguise then Border Collies are likewise the cats of the dog world.
It does sadden one that people see ‘dog/cat’ as some sort of binary opposition. There’s no need to barrack or choose — it’s not a footy match.
In the light of Darlene’s ex-copper’s colleague’s story, this adds a whole new dimension to the expression ‘So what am I, chopped liver?’
rumrebellious @ 25 – whilst not an ordinary “miaow”, mother cats call for the kittens and kittens call for their mother when separated.
I like cats. I’m just ragingly allergic to them; and don’t think they are particularly compatible with the Australian environment, although I recognise that many a moggy lover these days goes to great & responsible efforts to ensure they aren’t eating every feathered native that comes their way. Similarly I wish more dog owners in my state would understand that letting their dogs roam off-lead through bushland and along beaches where shorebirds are nesting is not acceptable.
This seems a good place to reference a site I’m very fond of –
mycathatesyou.com
one of my recent favourites:
http://www.mycathatesyou.com/cats/id/4065
I’m sure I’ve told this story before, but anyway…
My ex-partner once had a huge tomcat called Vladimir, described by a visitor to her home once as “two cats in one skin”.
When we returned home from the 1989 Brisbane Labour Day Rally, I had in my possession an International Socialists leaflet which I set aside on the carpet beside the beanbag after reading it. Vladimir, who was not normally a cat of destructive habits, set upon the leaflet with his long curved claws and big fangs, and reduced it to confetti in short order.
Vladimir’s appetite for confetti-making subsided until November that year, when we were voting in the New Left Party’s internal ballot on what the party’s name should be. Something like 77 names for the party had been proposed, including some which were the names of certain Eastern European ruling parties which were rapidly ceasing to be ruling parties at the time, and these were on the ballot paper which, after inspecting and shaking my head at, I set aside on the carpet next to the beanbag. It was immediately set upon by Vladimir, and suffered the same fate as the Trot leaflet.
Opinions will no doubt differ as to what these episodes indicate about Vladimir the Cat’s intelligence.
There is reputedly an old Irish prayer which goes “God save everybody here except the cat!”
Paul, are you sure you he wasn’t a яolcat?
Chris – exactly the same sound I use to entice strange cats to at least stop and consider talking to me! It’s sort of a purr and meow mixed, with a hint of inquiry in it.
Speaking a bit of cat gets you a long way.
Which raises a curious point: most humans ’speak’ almost no words of any animal’s language. Although humans can recognise some dog/cat/horse vocab, it’s usually limited to the fairly obvious (I can tell if my horses have been fed or are only trying it on, for example, by the note of their whinny). Yet we measure an animal’s intelligence by how many human words they recognise.
We’d fail our own tests.
Nickws, we eventually worked out that he was an American Shorthair – which might explain why he became fightin’ mad about the two documents in question.
Mehitabel (my favourite fictional cat btw) it’s always struck me as strange that we measure an animal’s intelligence by how trainable it is, when we’d never measure a person’s intelligence in the same way. One of the amusing things I see is people complaining about how stupid their dog is because it won’t do as it’s told. Nah, the dog is smart and has worked out it doesn’t have to do a thing it doesn’t want to.
Animals are often much better at non-verbal communication because that’s how they mainly talk to each other, but many people don’t seem to know how to read an animal’s body language.
I’ve got a book about dog intelligence. Its author questions why dogs such as Jack Russells are seen as intelligent and says that the answer he usually gets is, “Because they’re so brave; they go down holes to chase rats.”
The author’s response is along the lines of: it may be brave, but is it intelligent?
BTW, the dog intelligence test is easy and fun. You need a dog, a container (we use a plastic icecream one) and a piece of cheese. Show the dog the piece of cheese. In full sight of the dog, put the piece of cheese under the container.
The bright ones give you a “WTF?” look, lift up the container and take the cheese.
The dumb ones go, “What’s happened to it?” and look puzzled.
The owner’s reactions are the best. They can’t believe their dog is dumb, so they go into all sorts of contortions to try and make the dog realise where the cheese is. One friend repeated the experiment at least 20 times, getting more and more exasperated with their dog each time.
Mine are border collies, so they ace it every time.
Of course, you can’t do experiments like this on cats. They’d just sneer at you.
mehitabel @ 33 – yes thats it – I wish I could make that noise – I just can’t miaow and purr at the same time. Cats really will come when they’re called (unless they think they’re going to the vet) – just have to speak their language
That’s funny, Paul Norton.
PC, my cat wouldn’t eat me because I’m Whiskas quality. Nothing but Dine or above for my $40 pussy cat from the Lort Smith.
Trainability and intelligence aren’t the same thing, you’re right. You can teach an Australian male to put the seat down.
I have a cat story too. I just had a hand in rescuing 5 cats from a deserted lot. This experience led me to understand that it’s not that cat type people are really crazy, it’s that cats make em look really really crazy especially as they sit on the hard cold pavements outside suburban supermarkets holding pale blue strings attached to hidden box traps that no normal person can see but that the cats sure can, and so never enter on cue like a cat type person might want them to, resulting in the view that the cat type person is just plain crackers as they sit on the asphalt, begging “please baby please, just get in the box”. Sometimes cats can even have cat type people worrying about their fecundity as they shout at them to “stop” what they are doing “immediately, there will be none of that here, get off him, wait that is a him you are on top of, what, are you gay ? well that’s alright then, far be it from me to stop harmless fun as long as it does not result in a thriving cat colony”, even as children are snatched up by their parents in dread of the crazy person, at it again, talking suggestively at a fence and certainly at no living thing they can see.
Well these are only two instances over a long and tragic six week period. All the little bastards were exceedingly bright but were eventually caught. They have all adapted to indoor life gloriously and have forgotten their ordeal. While my reputation in the local area has never recovered, you get the idea, how it is that cat type people are not really crazy, cats just make em look totally psychotic and just plain kinky in a loitering kind of way.
Fantastic creatures aren’t they?
Two cat stories, about the very clever cat I had when I was a child (and who taught me all I know about felines!)
We had a rather prissy Persian cross cat who had produced eight kittens and then promptly developed mastitis, so we had to hand feed them. It was the most frustrating business; seven kittens yowling piteously at you whilst you fed the eighth, and as soon as you put down the one you’d just fed, it would start up again.
My cat had just weaned her own kittens a week or so before (my mother wasn’t big on sterilising cats; I hasten to assure you all that I am!). She walked by whilst I was feeding this lot one day, obviously at my wit’s end, gave me a funny side long glance and a tentative mew.
“Yes, please,” I said. She immediately got into the box and fed the kittens. She continued feeding them from then on, but she would have nothing else to do with them, she wouldn’t even clean them. She was just feeding them to help me out.
Another time, the same stupid Persian had a batch of kittens which mysteriously vanished. My sister was in time to see my cat carrying the last one off.
That night, my cat came to the door and mewed to get in. My sister opened the door and said to her sternly, “You’re not coming in until all those kittens are back in their basket.”
They were back within the half hour.
Later we found out that the Persian couldn’t carry her kittens herself, so she would make pathetic attempts to in front of my cat until she picked them up for her.
When i was living in Wooloomooloo in Sydney as a yoof I had a black cat that was so stupid it got its head stuck in a drainpipe. We had to call the fire-brigade to rescue him.
If I were to cark it in the next five minutes I’d be happy to think that my cats were being fed by my cooling corpse while they waited for help (by which I mean someone else to look after them) to arrive. Perhaps I’d better order one of these.
Sadly, I did once discover a friend’s body who’d died several days previously. His ever loving whippet hadn’t touched him. But the dog was very pleased to see me.
I’m with you there, PC. Why waste perfectly good protein, just because (while it was still mobile) it fed you?
My son, who lives in the country,was recently adopted by a very young, obviously tame (but lost) tom cat. Having lived rough for a while he’s an adept thief. (No bin is safe.) However, he’s also developed a taste for rabbit, so now, my son’s rabbit problem is much reduced and he hardly ever needs to feed the cat.
“Fantastic creatures aren’t they?”
They certainly are. If I remember correctly (though this could just be an urban cat-lover myth), Felix Sylvestris hasn’t evolved significantly for some 2 million years, which kinda suggests they got it right the first time.
I suspect one of my cats would eat me if I died and there was nothing else to eat. If I forget to feed him he’ll start licking me and perform some test bites. Nothing hard enough to hurt, but definitely gets the point across.
In terms of intelligence we have to store our cat food in a locked cupboard. They can open plastic tubs with latches by using their noses. It takes them a very long time and it must hurt a bit, but they get there eventually. And we had to put a privacy lock on our daughter’s bedroom as we caught them opening the door one day – one pulled the handle lever down whilst another pushed the door. They haven’t learnt how to turn a key yet though – we’ll be in real trouble if they ever evolve opposable thumbs.
Well, our dog plays games with us. He snores loudly and this makes us laugh. I have recorded the snore as a ringtone. He loves to come swimming with us… likes to share in whatever we’re doing. If we’ve been away too long, we get a vocal ‘telling off’ combined with an emotional welcome. We try not to leave him alone too much because we seem to belong together.
Is it OK if I admit that I like both cats AND dogs?
BTW Fine, that’s an adorable whippet in your photo. I love whippets.
Whippets are perfect dogs, wilful.
Dunno about dogs versus cats, it’s always struck me as a false dichotomy.
Melbourne is better than Sydney though.
“They haven’t learnt how to turn a key yet though – we’ll be in real trouble if they ever evolve opposable thumbs.”
Absolutely. My cat tries to open the door. For such a ditsy gal (and my girl is the feline equivalent of Anna Nicole without the drugs – unless Advocate is considered a drug) has worked out that to get out she needs to turn the knob.
She tries.
She also knows that if she makes enough noise that I will get up at 5.45am to get her breakfast. So who’s the dumb one now?
I live in the bush, and, although I have loved cats, I could no longer put up with their destruction of wildlife – the last cat I owned killed on the one day a blue kingfisher and a red fairy wren. I now have a fox terrier who is at least as good at catching rodents as his feline predecessors, but leaves the birds alone. He also sounds the alarm when visitors arrive, and projects an infectious spririt of debonair optimism.
Meggs the cat used to sleep on the bed with us at least until one of us had the nerve, the cheek, the blatant inconsiderateness, to roll over or shift a bit. He would jump up, twitch his tail emanating disbelief and disgust and drop onto the carpet on the floor.
At around sunrise he would decide he wanted out so he would walk to the bedroom door that went to the outside and softly meow.
If no one instantly jumped up and opened the door for him he would loudly meow.
Same sort of escalation as described by Mercurius in #2.
Clawing the curtains came next followed by jumping on the bed and licking the face of my wife to wake her up, sometimes he was a gentleman.
She is a sound sleeper so the penultimate step was to walk on the clock radio thus pressing the buttons and emitting a screech of sound that usually, but not always, woke my wife up.
She is a sound sleeper.
The final step, guaranteed to be successful, was to jump back on the bed and bite my wife on the nose with just enough force to wake her up, at the same time he jumped down to the door waiting for his exit and avoiding the flailing arms.
How do I know all this?
I was sometimes awake but feigning sleep, I didn’t want to attract his attention.
I was helping a mate move house recently – the curse of the station-wagoner – and while at his old place I needed to take a crap.
Wait, this is going somewhere…
The house kitteh was already in the bathroom, as his facilities for eating and its opposite were there. So kitteh had a desultory poke around the dry food bowl, then decided to leave well before my own business was concluded.
Kitteh stands up on his little hind legs (visualise Rory Calhoun if it helps), and at full stretch uses both paws to turn the handle. Not a round knob granted, one of those right-angled ones, but a pretty stiff one such that kitteh’s right paw needed to grasp on the central pivot point to brace against his left on the end of the lever – the cat’s weight alone, hanging on the handle, wouldn’t have worked.
This left me admittedly impressed but also exposed to the hallway’s comings and goings at a time when no getting up was possible.
I took this as pretty unarguable evidence that a cat’s intelligence, cunning and dextrosity well outweigh its consideration for others.
But then, so do my own much of the time.
Rory Calhoun!!!
My god FDB, how old are you?
Satdee arvo matinee wasn’t Satdee arvo matinee without a Rory western.
Or a Droopy cartoon come to think of it.
I might have seen a Rory western or two when the cricket was washed out and Ch.9 had run out of Beverley Hillbillies eps.
But I was referring to him via the Simpsons:
hannah’s dad @ 53, you’d better hope your missus doesn’t read this blog, or you’re in deep shit.
I’ll just do a Rann and deny it.
Actually a couple of time she got back into bed after letting the cat out and saw me ‘awake’ and complained about the ‘bloody cat’ and I would respond, “Huh, whasssit, whats a time?? lemmee me sleep, waddaya wakin’ me up for?”
Hey, better her, than me.
We have doors which are latched by slats of wood with a swivel in the centre.
Needless to say, each of these slats now has deep claw marks imbedded in them; the cat jumps up, digs his claws into the wood and just hangs there, until his weight pulls the latch down.
We were visiting the household of Bonnie the Rhodesian Ridgeback.
Bonnie headed over to her favourite couch for a snooze but hannah was already there.
So Bonnie stared.
But hannah stayed put.
So Bonnie walked to the adjacent door and asked to be let out and so the door was opened.
Of course that was the signal for hannah to think “Ball!!” so she hopped off the couch, out the door and grabbed her ball.
And Bonnie got on the couch.
We are currently in thrall to a beauteous cat who somehow was a stray before the RSPCA took her in and arranged for her to look glorious when my partner was suveying the choices.
Last night she hopped up on top of the radio on top of the fridge where we frequently admire her. Suddenly she had a peculiar look on her face and heaved a couple of times before vomiting downwards onto the fridge. Cleaning up such accidents is fortunately a man’s job in our house……..
These are such great stories. That’s all. Except for you FDB – the Rory Calhoun reference cracked me up.
Hal9000@52, I was taking my daily walk when I saw the RSPCA officer, out of work hours, let her dog off the lead for a run. It chased a bird, pounced and killed it in seconds before any of us could do a thing.
Am without companion animals neither cat nor dog since this time last year when my darling old pooch went to the big park in the sky aged 17.
I thought I’d miss having any pets much more than I have. My daughter lobbies hard on occasion for a dog more or a cat even….but as she is about to start high school next year, I can’t see how any animal is going to be anything but my total responsibility and all my animal friends have lived long lives.
I’m enjoying the empty nest and not having to rush home to water and walk or organise minding etc. I get a little wistful in the pet food aisle of the supermarket sometimes and I give a tummy scratch and pat to all friendly beasties on my walks, but I’ve been surprised how ‘pet ownership’ has been filed away with last year’s tax returns.
Interesting after multiple decades of continuous mostly cat & dog ownership… all the way back to putting out the Whiskas for Mr. Puss when I was four or five. When people ask if I’ll get another one… I tell them that I’m now free to travel esp. as my daughter is becoming more and more independent…and that one day, I can see myself taking on the responsibility of looking after a pet (and I’m high on the responsibility meter when it comes to caring for animals)…but I’m wondering after just one year if I’m turning into a non-pet owner…hhm.
Cats are EVIL – why else do they associate with witches as familiars ?
They are also extremely unintelligent – otherwise they would be able to discern my loathing for feline kind, rather than assaulting me with their purring, attempted lap sitting and other crimes ?
My (sadly defunct) fox terrier was frequently terrorised by bloodthirsty cats as a pup, and grew up with what can only be regarded as a healthy hatred of them, and while he lived returned the favour (with a bonus) so effectively that I didn’t have to deal with the monsters invading my domain – and he was more effective at rodent extermination than any moggie I’ve ever encountered and pretty good on starlings too.
Unfortunately he died of cancer at 10 and the neighbour’s cat has returned and constantly tries to ingratiate itself to me. But I know of the dark, satanic rituals which were so obviously a product of cat practice and in all probability lead to poor Toby’s early death – and one day I will have my revenge. [img]http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs41/f/2009/049/9/2/St_Patrick_Day_Evil_Leprechaun_by_Momma__G.gif[/img]
We grew up with cats and dogs in equal numbers and I love both but have regretfully decided against dog ownership because it entails greater responsibility and higher vet bills. This will be the last cat I own too, because despite my best efforts he still exacts a toll on the native wildlife (as do the local dogs, it was only a fortnight ago I had to step over the disarticulated forelimb of a ‘roo at our local headland, the work of perfectly well cared for local ‘pooches’). The clincher was the night I felt something scamper over my foot and assumed it was yet another mouse only to find the next morning that my beloved cat had brought in an exquisite, intact, and now moribund feather glider.
My favorite dog moment.
We’re all seriously try to convince a mate he’s too drunk to drive. He’s finally pointing to where he thought his car keys where when his dog turns up, tail wagging to break the sound barrier, dragging along in her jaws the remains of our mutual mate’s last drinks. Six very chewed plastic rings with two cans of VB still left. “Hey! Still cold!”
If yer wondering what happened next – well we responsibly didn’t let the dog drive. Very boozy Scooby-Doo on the beach moment.
My favourite cat moment.
So we’re fucking away one night and I look up to see one of the house’s cats curled up on the pillow next to my head, watching the proceedings like a jaded old theatre critic.
I swatted him away and refocused for awhile. Suddenly we could hear a distinct rumbling sound that we weren’t generating. We looked up and there were all three of that house’s cats now comfortably ensconced around us (Yes, he’d gone and rounded up the others) – observing the floor show while purring on in a way best described as sardonic. “Call that a tail?”. Very kinky Tobermory moment.
This is very important. Is that the single malt or the womble? Kinky womble references should be accompanied by youtube links, at the very least.
A couple of my acquaintance once had a cat which they attempted to raise as a vegetarian by feeding him rice and lentils. They were not successful in this endeavour and the pussy did not grow up to be as big and strong as old Vladimir #30. My ex also reports having encountered a couple who attempted something similar with their cat, who consequently (a) was very skinny and (b) would have been even skinnier had it not been for the native wildlife it devoured.
You say that like there is something the hell wrong with that. There is nothing the hell wrong with that. I say there is something the hell wrong with you – you and your little dogicide fantasies and unfounded cat slander. Say different and I will shapeshift you into a lump of tuna quivering in my cat’s bowl. You’d be wondering about the fishy goings on then, let me assure you.
jo@64,
I’ve been without a dog for a few years now since my last chihuahua died. (Life is a bit easier with chihuahuas cause you can take them places and get away with hiding them in/under your shirt.) Nevertheless, I do have to adsmit to a certain relief about not being constrained in my movements now I no longer have a dog. While I truly miss my little fellow and accasionally fantasise about talking the real estate owner into letting me get another one – one of my neighbours a few flats up has a silky terrier – I prefer to chat to dogs that don’t belong to me, But I knw exactly what you mean.
I have this as my laptop’s wallpaper, to remind me that no matter how well I do in life, there’s a being for whom I am nothing more than a source of food.
That’s a sinister-looking moggie, Anna!
My two cats are much better at looking cute for their food.