shes a mut and maybe 3 or 4 months old and still 0n crack i gotta find her supplier lol
THAT explains it, DarthJazy. At that age, no matter what breed, a kitten is little more than an amphetemine with fur and four legs. If you could ever figure out how to bottle that energy, you would never have to work another day in your life.
the cat has a sibling that lives with my exwife and my son man handles that cat it is so docile but our cat jesus i about punted it throught the door last night
My dear little companion Bailey, a silver grey, kitten faced, giant bodied male cat, has been hauling himself up by his claws, onto our roof. He uses our wooden windows, and was regularly seen to be hanging off his front paws, back legs scrabbling in mid air. By the time you'd gotten over to rescue him, he'd pulled himself up.
Last week he had a small op to removed traumatised tissue in his nailbed, after antibiotics hadn't done anything.
He now walks down the corridor, one leg wrapped in bandage, slipping on the terracotta tiles with each step. He bears the ignomy with great dignity, or failing that, with very undignified tummy rubs.
But the funniest thing is that every four or so steps, the leg shoots out and vibrates for about 2 seconds. So it goes... sh... sh... sh.... vrrrrp... sh... sh... sh... vrrrrp...
I feel: poor thing, and then my husband and I can't help grinning.
Beware, Motley, he is going to milk it for all it's WORTH!
My friend's cat broke her leg, and she was the MOST pitiful thing in the world... dragging that leg and cast as though she were given the burden of Atlas himself.
Rattle some food in her dish, and she became an Olympic gold medalist in NOTHING flat.
*grin* Blue, yes he has. Because he kept licking the bandage off, and has patchy fur on his leg, he's now wearing a collar - you should just SEE the look of offended dignity, and then he crawls into bed and gets cuddles and purrs like there is NO tomorrow. My husband is really buying into the guilt trip. *grin*
Despite all the care... he still has the growth, and probably is going to lose a toe.
My Camas milked something for everything it was worth, but there was a twist...
Camas and his brother Stormy used to have the most annoying tendency to "leap for his life" when he decided he had had enough cuddling. Even if he was purring and drooling, if he decided he had had enough, he would dig in ALL of his claws, and fling himself away.
One night, he did this as my brother was standing on a hardwood floor. Unfortunately, he did not give himself enough time or space to right himself fully. Chet and I both winced as he slammed into the floor, only half righted, bashing the daylights out of his right hip. Chet was on the floor in a nanosecond, to make sure Camas had not done himself serious damage.
Thankfully, he only seemed to have a minor bruise, because he limped around for about half an hour, before walking around normally with no signs of pain - either limping, or crying.
HOWEVER, for the next month, whenever he got into trouble - meaning that Chet or I raised our voices, he would suddenly start limping pitifully, complete with a "brave despite the agony" expression on his face. There were only a couple problems with this little act:
1. Chet and I KNEW he was faking it, because he never showed any other signs of distress.
2. He was favoring the wrong leg.
Bailey has an evil twin brother (hmm... sound familiar?) who loves chasing our newer addition 'round and 'round the house at night, until she gets into a corner and then yowls loud enough that I wake up and put a stop to it. He is so completely unapologetic. His name is Bu. Evil Bu, we've started dubbing him. Before we've just gone to reassure Sylvie, and just not given him attention for a while - the kind way. This morning, after another offended yowl, I decided, hell, let's actually give him a taste of his own medicine. So I chased him around the house until I ran out of breath, and once recovered, had a look to see if he was chastised. He sat calmly licking his paw on the window sill... paused... and then looked at me as if to say...
Question: How does one give a cat assertiveness training?
I have a cute story to share with you all. Not only do I love Janny's works, but my cat Morgan does too! I was cleaning out my purse on the floor and set aside my copy of Stormed Fortress. Immediately Morgan came over and laid on it. (That is how she claims what's hers.) For the past several hours, she has got up and done other things...but frequently returns to cuddle the book. I am not sure why she is so in love with it, as I don't think she can read...lol!
Hi all, sorry to have been so uncommunicative of late. Between health woes kicking up their heels, I have a new visitor, the Phantom of Peasley Canyon.
April 19, 2008
For the last several weeks, there has been an extra soul hanging out around the Lunatic Fringe. There was the usual 5 - Chet, me, Stormy, Sunday and Camas. But number 6 was a little calico kitten.
Since the calico coloring is about 99.99999% of the time tied to the female only, we figured it was a female. She's a real beauty, being mostly white, with a medium length coat and the orange and black calico patches confined mostly to her face and tail, which makes me suspect Turkish Van ancestry.
Usually, in the late evening, or very early morning, she would be outside our apartment, meowing. Maybe this was her way of seeing if we were really the big suckers that most cats seem to think we are. Chet and I were not sure if she was a neighbor's cat or a stray. She seemed to be well fed, which ruled out the stray theory, but that was due, we think, to the chicken we would see from time to time on the little divider between our patio and the apartment to the immediate West of us. Thankfully, the neighbor to our immediate West did not put out chicken with bones in it.
Every time we went out to try to catch her, to see if she had a collar or any kind of identification on her, such as a collar and tags, she would move like greased lightning and be gone before either of us could even blink.
This is especially surprising, considering when Chet meows, he usually has the undivided attention of virtually every feline alive.
With her white coat and ability to disappear so utterly, I nicknamed her the Phantom of Peasley Canyon.
Chet did try to put food out for her, but this had a rather curious effect on at least two of our cats. Stormy would go into full territorial squall, and start bashing his head against the patio door, trying to scare her off. It seemed to work when he did that, because she would run away.
Camas, on the other hand, seems to be her boyfriend! We found this out one morning when Camas escaped the room we normally keep the cats in during the day. He went over to the patio door, and was meowing up a storm - just a "conversational" tone, and it was different sounds, as though he were actually TALKING to her.
I started telling Chet to look for the leashes and harnesses, because maybe we could use Camas to lure her in so we could at least look at her and figure out if she was a stray or not. No go, everything is still in boxes, even this many months later.
I became more and more convinced that she was a stray, because we have had unseasonably cold weather, with temperatures dropping to near and below freezing, and no one was taking her inside. We have also had very LATE snow in these parts, including accumulations of snow, which is HIGHLY unusual for the Pacific Northwest.
It's entirely possible that she has uncaring owners. Whoever her owner is, IF she does have a home, does not seem to know that despite having fur, cats need warmth and shelter, too.
I told Chet what I was calling this kitty, and started mentioning daily how worried I was for little Phantom. It got to the point where he was calling her that, too.
Today there was a bit of a breakthrough, in that I FINALLY caught her! I had my good friend Nita over for a visit, the first time she has been over to see us in the new place. We were having some good girl talk, and I mentioned Phantom at one point during the day.
Camas, Stormy and Sunday the Hutt were out, - well, out and about in the apartment itself, since we don't allow them outdoors - and taking turns getting scritches from Nita, a loving kitty slave.
At about 3:00 this afternoon, I heard some odd clicking sounds. I looked out the windows, and sure enough, it was hailing, or as the alleged weathermen in this region now call it, "ice pellet showers."
Nita and I watched it for a few moments, and then both of us had to go sit back down - it was a real cripple reunion for the both of us, that's for sure! - and watched my cats wandering around, trying hard to get into trouble without getting caught. Nita's new cane has some fringes and feathers, and Stormy and Camas were making it their mission to get those fun, dangly things!
About ten minutes after the hail stopped, I heard Phantom meowing outside. I called Nita over, asking her if she wanted to see the elusive Phantom, and she said sure. I opened the blinds, and sure enough, there was Phantom, at the end of the patio, just taking shelter underneath the upstairs neighbor's balcony, squalling away. Camas and Stormy had gathered by the door, and I grabbed Stormy and tossed him into the cat's room. He was MOST displeased by that.
I opened the door to see if I could actually catch Phantom, with Stormy in the hoosegow, so she would not be scared off. I told Nita about Camas and his "girlfriend" - he would not be much of a boyfriend, really, because he was fixed when he was six months old - and was hoping against hope that maybe she would hear his friendly voice and get in range for me to catch her. I opened the door a little, and had to push Camas back with my foot because he was ready to shoot out the door.
I was in luck, because Phantom had apparently had enough of the hail and was coming in. I reached down to grab her, and managed to pin her just as she saw me and was pulling away! I had a grip on her back, and was concentrating on getting her inside without hurting her, and closing the door real fast.
I congratulated Nita on being my good luck charm as I locked the patio door, and picked up the kitty to cuddle her. Thankfully, she is not a full fledged feral, because, while scared, she didn't snarl and rip into me. She did have razor sharp little claws, though!
She had some poop stuck to the fur of her tail, which weighs heavily in favor of the stray theory.
What settled it for me, however, was that she reeks of Bounce dryer sheets. To stay warm, she was huddling under dryer vents. That tells me two important things - first, she is a really smart little girl, knowing how to stay warm, and secondly that she HAS no real home, except where she can find warmth.
I called Chet, who was out taking care of his dad, and told him that I had finally caught the Phantom. He chided me somewhat halfheartedly, however, because we just can't have another cat. We're allowed a maximum of two cats, and we have three because we neglected to mention the number of cats we actually have - stupid rule.
Nita, who has a huge, soft heart for cats, already has two, and was having her doubts, but she called her husband anyway, and asked if he would mind another cat. He was forced to say no, because they already have two rescues, who are just starting to settle in.
So at the moment, I have a kitty in my bathroom, looking for a permanent home. Chet and I went out to breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants, where we know the staff on a first name basis, and no one can take a kitty in.
This leaves us with finding a rescue organization to find a home for her. I refuse to put her into a situation where she might end up euthanized. I told Chet bluntly that if there was only the choice between keeping her ourselves or putting her with an organization that might euthanize her that we would somehow make it work.
"I did NOT go through all of that worry, to rescue her from a bad situation, only to have her end up euthanized. It ain't gonna happen!"