Too Much of a good thing Is A Bad Thing. . . What's too much?

You say that with that avatar? ... Michelle you just made me fall off my chair.

 

You've obviously never met my cat.

Well, it's not often that I wander into an area where I can express my disdain for humanity in my typically crass, insensitive way.

 

I am fully familiar with the species though. Inside every cat resides an unrepentant sabre-toothed tiger. My first cat was named Buzz (I was the only one who knew that was short for Buzz-Saw ...) most idiots assumed it was an onomatopoeic name because he purred before during and after degloving his erstwhile admirers. To know one is to know them all ....

 

Apparently, Pescado has taught his to be some type of ninja killer cat. Closest thing I can imagine is the time I tried to bath mine in the sink without a suit of armor on. I'd like to know how he trains his. Every cat I've shared space with would have laughed at the concept of being "trained".

 

MR. Bigglesworth?

 

Someone I once met said that if her cat had opposable thumbs she'd be up on the rooftops picking off people with a sniper rifle.

Cats are nothing to trifle with.

 

All cats are ninja killers. I once had to throw half a brick at my neutered tom, Mitosis (honestly! I couldn't make it up! ) after a neighbor's kid brought around his puppy to show to me. The pup was a 12 weeks old collie of some sort with rich pedigree. Mitosis who liked nothing better than to hang at a nearby builder's yard laughing at the rottweiller going mental because he couldn't jump over the 12ft high razor wire & chain-link fence ... or else wrestling canal rats the size of small dogs to death took one look at this slobbering, tongue-lolling beast making a frantic effort to control all four feet for long enough to gain some traction that was all headed in in roughly the same direction, namely towards himself. The puppy was far too inexperienced and stupid to realise that this friendly looking apparation that was dressed up like a Sylvester toon cat was in fact a skilled killer with some very unlikely talents.

I swear to this day that the darn cat got up on its tail and aim all four taloned feet in the doggy's direction then set everything a whirl. In a flash I computed the likely cost of sewing an expensive pooch back together (a lot) and compared it to the damage a brick might do to a cat in a killing frenzy in the highly unlikely event that my aim would be accurate enough (this involved good old Isaac Newton's first law of motion and the result came out that I skudded a brick across the yard just in time to cause dear old Mito to have a second thought whereon he changed course and leaped up to the little bathroom window seven or eight feet above the path, where he loitered a while, half in, half out, whisking his white-tipped tail angrily (it was the tail end that was out ) ... that sight just about drove the puppy utterly barmy with frustration.

I know cats. Pescado is one. If he has a cat himself, we can be quite sure that it is not an arch-criminal's cat. One could never imagine Pescado wasting time constructing an elaborate device to do away with an enemy and then wasting even more time explaining how the device is going to achieve its objectives to its intended victim. Arch criminals always have a white persian on their lap. A white persian cat is just as capable as any other of ninja-like activity ... it just can't be bothered because it is more fascinated by the inexplicable and pointless posturing of its arch-criminal cat-food provider. Besides, it is such dadratted chore to get blood stains out of a white fur coat ....

 

How old is your son? I have to admit that I agree with him--I could never imagine my parents "being intimate", LOL.

Most probably.

 

My son is 17. His parents have always been affectionate. Either he just noticed or he finally felt brave enough to make that comment. (I do understand though. I'm positive I was immaculately conceived. )

 

You mean like this cat?

 

Bony was his name

Nice as could be with people--often helping the plumber or washing machine repairman by getting in close and showing them exactly where the problem was--but he was a devil in the dark of night. In the morning I'd find baby rat bodies lined up on the porch (too foul tasting to eat) or bits and pieces of various birds and mice. Of insects, of course, there was no trace, except, perhaps the odd wing or two. Bony passed away recently at the age of 17 and 1/2 years. :depressed: And he went not quietly but fought the grim reaper to the bitter end, thinking, I believe, that he was bringing down the biggest bird of his life.

 

Ahhh...evidently I've only owned arch enemy pasha type cats then. They had us convinced our sole reason for existence was to serve. I'm afraid lethal weapon cats are outside of my experience.

 

To be fair, it begins with a certain amount of temperament and natural attitude. When I went to pick my cat out as a kitten, it proceeded to attack me, attaching itself to my face in the process, and when it fell off, it took half of my face with it. I knew right then, that was the cat I wanted.

Still, it's a cat. The only command I've ever gotten it to respond to is "KILL!". In all other ways it behaves in a catty manner, responding only when it feels like it. Even training it to walk on the ceiling was something that required a certain amount of effort (I located its food further and further up the wall each day). The rest of it, the cat pretty much did on its own as a natural extension of catlike behavior.

 

Thank you...beyond smearing liver on the ceiling I couldn't imagine how one trained a cat to do this. I wondered if there was a special technique for educating kitties that I had missed.

 

My Border Collie loves cat food and he wanders to the next door neighbours to eat their cat's food. Then the cat eats his food, and scratches his nose. I can't blame Oreo (the dog's name). No one can stay angry at a dog. Not with those puppy eyes (even if they're 2). I agree. Cats are like ninja killers. Like those Super Ninja Pizza Cats.

 

My cat is going to be 100 in cat years in a week (that's 20 to mere humans). She's always been a love (well, not to birds) but her brother was a terror. He regularly beat up the other cats in the apartment building we used to live in ... without claws. (I got them previously owned ... I would never remove a cat's back claws.) I think he was overcompensating, but that didn't erase the fact that he was a big, mean cat to everyone but his sister.

We had to put him to sleep when they were 16 because it was his time, after which we got a dog.

The dog likes to boss the cat, but she never lays a paw on her ... and the other day I fed the cat on the floor instead of her usual ledge (which was full of stuff) and the dog listened to my command to not eat the cat's food.

Good dog.

I admit I have become more of a dog lover than a cat lover, but I love all animals. Even bugs, as long as they don't bite or crawl on me. OK, not cockroaches. Or wild mice in my house. I like it when my pets kill vermin. I however never kill spiders, as they kill other, peskier bugs that get into my house.

 

Smores was about 17 when we had to send him to cat heaven. He is the only cat I know that when he was hungry would open the tupperwareish container we kept his food in by biting the edge and twisting his head.

when he was a around a year old we would put him in the shop when we left or went to bed and set Ray's heavy tool box in front of the bi-fold doors. Smores would be out waiting for us when we got up. one night Ray heard this thump... thump... thump coming from the shop so he went to see what was going on. and found the door slightly open so he waited til the door was about 2 inches or so open and smores stretched his arm through half way up the door.

It turns out that Smores was climbing up the drapes on the otherside of the door (there for insulation), pushing off and swinging like tarzan so he would bang open the door a little wider each time until it was wide enough for him to escape.

 

I think I'd pay money to see that. He sounds like a smart cat.

My sister has a cat that opens doors using the doorknobs. Her roommate caught him at it one day, and said "that cat's so smart it's spooky."

Sounds like he and Smores (cute name!) are from the same mold.

My cat is so old that getting onto her ledge is a major accomplishment. Hey, I don't know too many 99 year old people who can jump 10 times their own height (she's a tiny little thing).

 

I will kill and eat spiders when I see them. If you leave too many spiders around, you attract centipedes, which don't taste very good. The applied selective process ensures that only the best spiders will survive around me, which in turn will be the most effective bug-killers.

 

I hate spiders. They are evil. They are disgusting. They probably taste revolting. A teeny, tiny bit of me is afraid of them, but I mostly just hate them. Hate, hate, hate! Unfortunately, our house is infested with bugs of every kind. Flies, I can tolerate. Crickets? No problem. But spiders are just the worst. Hate, hate, hate!

...

HATE!