On Cats

[Butler Henderson]

1 hour ago, big jim said:

Well she has finally gone to her forever home, Faye went out to say goodbye to her too! 
 

I can just imagine what she was saying to her - “Be good & polite & don’t forget, if it doesn’t work out you get yourself back here, okay?” 

 

Wouldn't surprise me, I'm convinced they can understand what is being said, just choose to ignore it unless its in their favour.

[big jim]

Mike the mainecoon used to ‘chat’ to the new fosters when they arrived in the house, I’d love to know what he was saying to them as they all respected him as the alpha male, one old boy did try it on to be the alpha only to be held down by him with one paw while he carried on eating! 
 

 

[Dick Turpin]

This is not my picture, it is from a cat obsessed friend, but well...

 

 

[steve1]

I’m amazed they’re all sitting still in one place.

 

steve

[Bernard Lamb]

Quote

 

Fudge and Lego have a music session.

These two have been with us for about 9 years. Fudge was 5 and Lego 4 when they arrived.

We got them from the rescue when the family where they were had a baby and were unable to cope with them.

Lego takes a dislike to any boxes or cases in the hall and we think that she displayed her objections to any item that belonged to the baby such as a car seat or buggy. She has also been known to piddle on shoes left in the hall. When we have visitors who remove their shoes we have to put the shoes in a cupboard.

The cats are very different in character yet depend on each other.

Fudge likes people, typical Burmese behaviour and when we had visitors, remember those days, she goes from person to person seeking attention but will not allow any one to pick her up.

Lego is very timid. It took her 3 months to venture up the second flight of stairs into the loft and 3 years to learn how to work the cat flap. She behaves like a rag doll and can be carried round the house. When outside it is another matter as she will protect not just our garden but half the road from other cats.

Bernard

 

 

[didcot]

So that's how you make a snowman!

 

[SteveyDee68]

Stumbled upon this thread by accident, but glad I did. Have to admit to a few teary eyes reading some of the posts, too.

 

Our family has had several pets over the years; Percy (the guinea pig) when I was very young, later followed by Tina (golden retriever) after he had passed away; two guinea pig sisters, Pippa & Penny joined the household once Tina had outgrown her puppy stage, and they rubbed along just fine. Tina outlived the guinea pigs of course, and was joined by Trixie-Bell-Fluffy-Cat, our first cat. Again, being such a good natured animal, she accepted the cat without a second glance! At this point, we were adopted by a second, stray cat, Sixpence, who again joined the menagerie but learnt quickly that Trix (I'll explain below!) didn't mind a cuddle but wasn't interested in playing! Trix turned out to have cat leukemia and had to be put to sleep; Tina departed years later, two days into my second term at University.

 

Sixpence wasn't alone for long, as my sister got a gorgeous tortoiseshell kitten who, despite her my sister's best efforts, managed to get herself run over on the road outside. Eventually, my father gave in and got an Alsatian German Shepherd puppy from the rescue centre who we called Sadie - and being roughly the same size as Sixpence, he reverted to being a kitten and would spend hours playing with her, either being chased or chasing her! If ever she got a bit rough, he would bite her ear and she would let go. Eventually Sixpence and Sadie both passed, and it was only after retirement that my parents rescued Coco, a German Spitz, from the rescue centre. He is still with us, albeit only recently down to one eye! Most recent pets are actually my children's two rabbits, Bing and (obviously) Oreo (?!), who I had to rescue after my marriage collapsed. Two very large lion-headed black rabbits, purchased against my better judgement and tiny when bought, the two brothers settled in quickly, Coco accepting them as dogs and them thinking he was a rabbit (or they were dogs?). We used to have cats pass through our garden, showing utter contempt for the dog, who would just watch them, and I fretted about the rabbits until one afternoon when I saw a cat stalking them and they both suddenly charged at it and it turned and fled! Not seen any cats since! Sadly, Bing had to be put down just before Christmas due to (we believe) cancer. In his last two weeks whilst we nursed him, he came indoors into the conservatory and we brought his brother in to keep him company. Needless to say, Oreo has not left the building, and seems very happy in his new role as "conservatory rabbit"!

 

However, this thread is about cats, so please indulge me with a tale of two cats...

 

Trixie-Bell-Fluffy-Cat or Trix, the farm kitten

Trix adopted us - our grandparents had hired a static caravan on a farm in the Lake District, and myself and my sister stayed with them for a week. We were allowed to play in the barn (can't imagine that these days!) and discovered that the farm cat had recently had kittens, as they would play with us under their mum's watchful eye! One in particular took to following us back to the van where, being such a cutie, he would be fed bacon scraps and bits of dog meat (they had a Westie, Simon, who competely ignored the kitten in the doorway!). Within a few days, the kitten had got brave enough to come into the van and sit on the seats and be fussed over. When it came time to leave, my sister was in tears and so my father asked if he could buy the kitten. The farmer said to take him, free, as he had plenty more to keep the rats down!

 

My sister (aged 6) promptly named our little she-cat Trixie-Bell-Fluffy-Cat, which was a cute name for a little ginger kitten but one my dad refused to accept - no way was he standing at the back door calling the cat in by that name! (My dad was used to dogs - it took a while for him to realise that cats do exactly what they please!) A trip to the vets to get Trixie neutered ended in floods of tears from my sister ... she was a he! As a result, his name was shortened to Trix (which could be thought of as being 'tricks' but my Dad was a railway modeller and so the double meaning was not lost upon him!)

 

Trix would allow you to fuss with him when he wanted, but otherwise was quite aloof. As soon as he got home he would squall to be let out at night; after his operation, and once he had healed, my father finally gave in to his noisy requests (we had a main road at the front of our house, so we were worried about him being run over). Until then, we had often seen cats passing through our rear garden; that very night, it sounded as if World War III had broken out in the cat kingdom, and the following morning upon opening the back door, Trix sauntered in with a ripped ear (which needed a visit to the vet to check over!) and a look of having put the world to rights. He was still little more than a kitten, but we never saw another cat in our garden after that!

 

A short time after that, we also realised that his mother had taught him how to kill as he started bringing 'presents' home in the morning. My father dealt with these gruesome gifts without flinching until the morning Trix presented him with the rear half of a very large rat, bigger than himself... my Mum had to deal with that whilst my Dad had a sit down and a strong brew!

 

My strongest memory of Trix is of waking one morning asleep on my back - and I have always slept on my side - with my throat vibrating in a strange way! Lying there, as a child not yet left primary school, eyes closed, half asleep, I remember wondering if I was ill or about to die! I wanted to shout out for help, but gradually realised that there was a rumbling sound with the vibrations, amd that they were coming in waves rather than continuously... And my neck felt uncommonly warm, too. As I opened my eyes and came to, I realised that Trix was lying stretched out across my throat, purring away and 'kneading' my covers with his front paws! I had to lie there, terrified that if I startled him he might scratch me (I had visions of him accidentally ripping out my throat with his claws!), and quietly calling out, "Mum. Mum? Mum!" until she finally came to see me! Her reaction? She called my Dad in to see, whilst the cat carried on oblivious! He never did it again to me or anyone else in the family. Looking back, I now feel quite privileged.

 

Trix never worried about our dog, Tina, and quickly realised that when she curled up to sleep that she provided a lovely safe place to sleep for himself! We would often find them curled up together, alerted by the astoundingly large purrs coming from him! When Sixpence adopted us, Trix sniffed him a few times and then mainly tolerated him. This, the rough tough kitten that beat up all the cats in the area, would occasionally cuff Sixpence around the ear, or wrap himself around him and hold him down, but generally they rubbed along fine. Somewhere there is a faded and blurred Polaroid photo taken by my sister of the three of them curled up together in concentric rings, Sixpence in the middle, Trix around him and Tina around them both, the one and only time we ever saw them do that together. It wasn't that long after that Trix became ill - maybe they knew...

 

Sixpence - the cat that wasn't 'full shilling' (Get it?)

We first became aware of a rather pathetic, very young black cat by his mewlings at the back door. Twice my father saw him sitting looking wet and bedraggled and thoroughly sorry for himself, but he ran off as soon as he tried to approach him. Third time (lucky?!) he called me to bring cat treats to the back door - he stayed put, and told me to try to get the cat to take a treat! I crouched down low, slowly extended my hand with treats in it towards this scraggy-looking, dripping wet fur-ball, making the "shish-shish" noises you do and wondering if I was going to end up having to have a tetanus injection! He came forward, ate the treats, then sat down and started mewling again. My Dad said to come inside and we did so, leaving the door open. About quarter of an hour later, whilst having breakfast, we became aware of a wet black cat sneaking past us. Our dog, Tina, simply watched him and Trix was nowhere to be seen (probably out murdering the local wildlife). My Dad quietly shut the back door, and my Mum went looking for him with some milk and cat food. I'd guess that within an hour he had decided that he wanted to stay, having been fed and then my Mum putting on the gas fire, where he curled up to dry off.

 

So, why call him Sixpence (referencing him being a bit daft)? Well, I neglected to mention when we discovered this pathetic, wet and cold cat...June! And we are talking a good, old fashioned England when summers were properly hot and sunny June, at that! But he was wet and miserable ... why?! Well, he was sat directly underneath the water tank overflow pipe which had developed a drip due to a fault. Not a gush, a slow drip. We worked out that to be so wet through that this cat must have sat under the dripping overflow - the only place wet anywhere around - for hours on end. Like Chinese water torture he had endured the drips on his head until he was soaked to the bone. How stupid did that make him?!

 

It was only later that we thought maybe not so stupid ... he'd made himself so pitiful that we had taken him in!

 

By the evening of that day, he had curled up in everybody's lap and made it clear he wanted to stay. My Dad took him to the vet to be checked over - he was male (disappointed sister again!), had already been neutered and had scuffed front paw pads and under his chin, which the vet said suggested he had been thrown out of a moving car! By the time he had come home from the vets, my Dad had named him Sixpence (before my sister came up with anything daft!)

 

Sixpence would go out (like Trix) but unlike Trix seemed to know his name - calling for him from the back door would quickly result in a streak of black flying towards you, rubbing against your legs for a scratch between the ears and then sauntering over to his dish where he expected food to be ready for him! Unlike Trix, he had never been taught how to kill - he could catch things, but not finish them off! On one occasion, he made a nuisance of himself outside the bathroom door whilst my sister was showering. Suddenly there was a blood curdling scream with my sister running naked out of the bathroom and into her room! She had opened the airing cupboard to get a towel and a bird had flown out at her, before dropping to the floor fluttering! Sixpence had caught it, somehow taken it inside the airing cupboard where it had possibly remained in shock until my sister opened the door, then flown put! As soon as the door was open, Sixpence darted in and caught the bird again before leading us a merry dance trying to relieve him of his spoils - the still alive bird! If Trix had still been around, it would have been a different story to tell! 

 

Sixpence's trick of somehow getting into places was compounded by his ability to happily curl up and sleep anywhere; we often found him in the (closed) linen basket, the (closed) airing cupboard, (closed) drawers, and in under-bed divan drawers (closed). When loading the washing machine or tumble drier, a Sixpence check had to be made! If he disappeared for any length of time, it became normal practice to think "what has been open recently?" Strangest places he turned up were in my Dad's (closed) metal toolbox; in my (closed) trombone case (how?!); underneath the bell of my father's Double Bb Bass (a bigger version of the tuba) propped up in the hallway; inside a fold out sofa; in the (thankfully off) gas oven! Every time it was his purring that alerted us, never distress or scratching (maybe if the gas had been turned on that would have been different!) and every time it would be a question of how the heck that had happened?! He must simply have jumped inside without us seeing; that, or he was somehow related to Schrodinger's cat!

 

One odd habit did eventually catch him out - sleeping on the drive underneath the rear wheel of parked cars! The drive steeply slopes and is a sun trap, and on sunny days car tyres must also act as heat traps, so he would lie downslope against a tyre and soak up both radiant heat from the sun and stored heat from the drive/tyres -bliss for a cat! After University and passing my driving test, I became accustomed - like my parents - to having to check for a sleeping cat before leaving. One fateful day, I nipped home to collect some music I needed: I parked up, rushed inside, rushed out about 30 seconds later, jumped in the car and rolled back down the drive in neutral whilst putting my seatbelt on. I was surprised to feel the car bump over something ... twice ... and then in horror as I reached the foot of the drive saw Sixpence dragging himself into the garden bushes. I had run over my own cat!

 

We rushed him to the vet, where he underwent an operation to pin his fractured pelvis. Fortunately he suffered no internal injuries (a miracle considering I had rolled a Ford Fiesta over him) and he came home a few days later dosed up on painkillers. I felt so guilty that I overcompensated with treats, and when he was signed off from his treatment the vet suggested he might need to diet! Sixpence never slept under a car wheel again but from that day he tended to have a rather 'camp' gait, and his Houdini-like disappearing acts became limited to lower level hiding places!

 

He eventually died peacefully in his sleep of old age, curled up in the dog basket. He adopted us when I was 13 years old with the vet guessing he might be just under a year old at the time, and died just after I was 30, so he lived to around 18 years old - not bad for a cat thrown from a moving car and run over by his owner, and probably used up at least another three of his nine lives through his sleeping habits!

 

I can't believe I have rambled on at such length - perhaps an indicator of how cats can make an impact upon you. I consider myself a dog person - for instance, last August I looked after a friend's puppy who, due to lockdown, was not socialised to people outside his family or to other dogs, and a week later they said they had returned to a happier, calmer and more receptive to strangers animal - but I like cats, and they always make a beeline for me. Only for the fact I have unwanted custody of a large black rabbit stops me from heading down to the rescue centre and adopting a cat, after reading this thread and recalling past pets.

 

Thank you for creating this thread - it has cheered me up immensely after having had my CAT (catalytic converter) stolen from under my car on Sunday afternoon.

 

Steve S

Edited January 26, 2021 by SteveyDee68
Stupid typos!

[big jim]

Faye helping me with the car earlier today

 

[Michael Hodgson]

On 24/01/2021 at 11:06, didcot said:

So that's how you make a snowman!

 

 

You shouldn't let him keep his fur coat on indoors.  He won't feel the benefit when he goes out.

[Johann Marsbar]

Spot the idle animal....

 

 

As the weather is milder today, I'm surprised she has decided to "go underground", but has been there for the past 6 hours and hasn't emerged in search of food yet..........

[big jim]

PIBS having a sleep last night, he was out for the count!

 

 

PIBS = puss in boots, which is what his last owner named him! 

[BrushVeteran]

I've had these two Sweep and Sooty just a year now and as rescue cats have settled in the house very well. Sweep being the fifteen month old son of Sooty is now nearly twice the size of his mother, but she is still the boss and growls and hisses at him every time he stares at her. A constant laugh really but she is quite a little fireball..............they don't stay long sat together!

[didcot]

Lovely blue eyes.

 

[J. S. Bach]

Sweep's father must have been one beautiful cat!

[Tim Hall]

Fizz (the tabby) and Wispa are rescue cats that we adopted as kittens nearly three years ago. We're somewhat besotted. 

 

They are, however, banned from "Loftshire".

[BrushVeteran]

1 hour ago, J. S. Bach said:

Sweep's father must have been one beautiful cat!

Yes Sweep's father will be one of those cat mysteries I think. His mother, Sooty, was found roaming around Bicester heavily pregnant and caught by the Cats Protection local cattery where she gave birth to three kittens. As I had said 'goodbye' to my previous cat in September 2019 and had then been without one for the first time in sixty nine years I decided to rescue a pair in January last year. They had to come as a pair as Sweep pined for his mother when he went to his first home, which lasted about a week then handed back to the cattery, I don't know how anyone serious in adopting a cat can ever do that................all cats are individuals who have their own character and you have to get to know each other. Anyhow Sweep has two siblings somewhere and they would be quite interesting to see if they are anything like him. Here is a picture of him in the cattery when we initially went to view him a year ago. He has filled out quite a bit!

[Markwj]

1 hour ago, J. S. Bach said:

Sweep's father must have been one beautiful cat!

Are you suggesting his mother is ugly then!!!

[BR60103]

I need a suggestion for a cat toy. 

Our Marco sometimes carries his little foam ball around, but usually ignores them all. If one comes at him, he may jump on it but loses interest when it stops moving. (I call him a goalie.)

We need something that will keep moving by itself.

He does like a bootlace.

 

[didcot]

Try one of these. Its a sort of motorised weeble. The arm moves back and forth with a feather on it. The only marking on it is Interactives.

[Michael Hodgson]

That looks like something you light the fuse on and run like hell before it explodes!

[Craigw]

I was building some wagons last night and had an assistant. Ferris (pictured) and Bueller (his sister) are two kittens I rescued from our local pound on Christmas Eve. They had the Flu and the Pound wanted to get rescue rather than having them there over public holidays. So, I have two extra rescue kittens I am fostering. Bueller is  quiet girl who is starting to come out of her shell. Ferris is, as you can see, an absolute social butterfly.

 

Regards,

 

Craig W

Edited January 29, 2021 by Craigw

[Michael Hodgson]

Cat on a hot tinned soldering iron.

[stewartingram]

Good job you tidied up the workbench to give Ferris some room.....

[Martin]

God knows what it was like before he tidied up!

[cb900f]

I don't allow our cat to jump onto my work desk if I can help it . I always worry what she may inadvertently pick up on her paws (fibre glass shards, w/metal filings, flux etc ).  We all know how clean cats like to be and licking their paws is all part of their grooming process.

This is not a criticism and is not aimed at anyone, I just thought it might be something to bear in mind or maybe I am teaching my grandma to suck eggs.

 

Pete