Cats

Yoused

Power User
Posts
241
Reaction score
396
Teaching possums how it's done
6F7B33DF-014B-40F7-8A89-F8A32952EB7B.jpeg
 

Renzatic

Site Champ
Posts
758
Reaction score
1,378
Don't you hate it when you're looking at your cat, and he suddenly perks up, and starts bobbing his head around like he saw something mean and scary? Kinda makes you wonder what's out there in the dark, waiting to eat your face.

Probably coyotes.
 

Scepticalscribe

Moderator
Staff member
Posts
971
Reaction score
1,531
Or maybe just something a kitty is thinking to maybe nail and bring inside... on the hoof.

I sure coulda used one of these Raspberry Pi scanners back in the day when my indoor-outdoor cat decided to bring a live grass snake up onto my bed at 3 in the damn morning.


And then, doubtless, it sat back on its haunches on the bed, preening with pride at its hunting prowess, expecting a delighted reaction, ecstatic gratitude, and lavish praise from you.
 
Last edited:

lizkat

Site Champ
Posts
964
Reaction score
2,117
And then, doubtless, it sat back on its haunches on the bed, preening with pride on its hunting prowess, expecting a delighted reaction, ecstatic gratitude, and lavish praise from you.

Oh yes she was very excited and proud of herself.... made that little chirping noise cats make when they have some prey in their mouth... that's when i turned on the light to see what exactly made that sound seem so muffled. Wow. OK then. Grass snake well over 15" long, and not very happy.

Uh... so I tried to praise the kitty because it was after all quite an accomplishment, but meanwhile I had her by the back of her neck and the snake by a place an inch or so behind its head and I was saying "ok let me have it... let me have that now...." and meanwhile thinking all kinds of things in my half-asleep stupor, like was I really sure it was just a grass snake and where were my glasses?

Anyway she let go (meaning to get a better grip I think, or maybe even to nip me in her annoyance), but I was waiting for that and grabbed the snake out of harm's way. So we all went downstairs together, a squirming cat propped against my hip and the snake in my other hand thrashing its tail like mad and fascinating the goddamned cat trying to free up a paw and grab at it. Snake was put back outside and was apparently not really the worse for wear, wasted no time getting the hell away from the back door. The kitty was left grounded inside with the cat door shut for the night, and I headed back upstairs leaving the stairwell door shut in case that wasn't the FIRST thing she'd thought to bring in that evening.

She was quite the huntress, and was my last indoor-outdoor cat... but I think that was the only time she ever grabbed up a snake. Not for lack of trying. There was a ground water well next door we used for watering our gardens sometimes, and the pump was set into a big ledger rock with some pebbles underneath, accessible by grass snakes, so they loved that place in the early spring and fall: the rocks held the warmth of the sun all night. I used to see the babies once in awhile. Always laughed then to remember that crazy night when a grown one briefly ended up in the house.
 

Alli

Moderator
Staff member
Posts
1,337
Reaction score
2,124
Cat does a "crossing the road because" maneuver near finish of a 100-meter track race.

If that had been my cat, he would have gotten directly in their path and plopped.

This morning while on FaceTime with my mother, I heard the curtain rod come crashing down. I looked up to see Oreo just sitting in the window like nothing had happened. I got up to put the rod back up, but by then he’d straddled it and was trying to go back to sleep. I managed to get him off of it, and then holding the rod in one hand and the cat in the other, got it back where it was supposed to be.

In my next life I want to come back back as a house cat.
 

Scepticalscribe

Moderator
Staff member
Posts
971
Reaction score
1,531
If that had been my cat, he would have gotten directly in their path and plopped.

This morning while on FaceTime with my mother, I heard the curtain rod come crashing down. I looked up to see Oreo just sitting in the window like nothing had happened. I got up to put the rod back up, but by then he’d straddled it and was trying to go back to sleep. I managed to get him off of it, and then holding the rod in one hand and the cat in the other, got it back where it was supposed to be.

In my next life I want to come back back as a house cat.

A house cat where you are suitably worshipped.

Next door's cat keeps trying to colonise my back garden; I see her on the garage roof when it is sunny in the mornings, or in the driveway, where I receive an indignant glare if I venture out, and the cat then turns, flcking its tail at me, and saunters off down the driveway, somewhat aggrieved. Earlier this week, I spotted it curled up in bushes, beside one of the bins.

And it adores the bushes and shrubs with ambitions to become trees; lots of places to explore and hide.
 
Last edited:

Renzatic

Site Champ
Posts
758
Reaction score
1,378
I can't remember if I posted this on MR or not back in the day, but anyway...

Back when my cat wasn't quite so lazy, he used to regularly scale trees to get at the birds. It was the most amazing thing to watch. Never saw a cat do this before in my entire life.

No one believed me, of course, so I grabbed my phone and went out to grab some proof.

So here it is. My cat Pete scaling a tree.

 

Scepticalscribe

Moderator
Staff member
Posts
971
Reaction score
1,531
I can't remember if I posted this on MR or not back in the day, but anyway...

Back when my cat wasn't quite so lazy, he used to regularly scale trees to get at the birds. It was the most amazing thing to watch. Never saw a cat do this before in my entire life.

No one believed me, of course, so I grabbed my phone and went out to grab some proof.

So here it is. My cat Pete scaling a tree.


Norwegian Forest Cats (and, I suppose, Maine Coons) are supposed to be able to do that, too.

Next door has always had cats, for the past twenty years, at least, and they have always turned up in our garden, well, the wonderful wild wilderness, a suitably untamed altar to fecundity, and growth, and life, at the rear of the house.

In theory, and, until recent years, - kids grow up and move away, after all - and, in practice, the cats always belonged to the younger daughter - now a dedicated teacher, something she has always wanted to become since she was a child, that, or a vet - of the couple next door, who are lovely people.

Their first cat, who was a large, mostly white, male, named Tricks, used to sun himself in a sun-trap at the side of our garage; he didn't bother us, nor we, him, not least because for the last two years of his life, my father was ill with the cancer that subsequently killed him.

Tricks (who was adored and loved and cared for) and my father died within a matter of weeks of one another; his owner, then a child of around nine or ten, announced - with that earnest mien, that deadly serious air of sweet gravity, that you find in decent kids who take their responsibilities seriously, to her parents, (who told us) that, "This has been the worst year of my life, so far. Granny has died, Tricks has died, and Charlie (my father) has died." My mother, quite rightly, was impressed and moved and proud that her husband's death was ranked as a tragedy of equal importance as the death of a beloved cat (and that of her grandmother) by the young daughter of our next-door neighbour.

Tricks was followed - within a month, my mother & I were brought in to meet these two tiny kittens - by two long-haired cats, gorgeous creatures, initially assumed to have been two sisters, and litter mates, who were given the names Abby and Phoebe.

Phoebe turned out to have been a boy, a discovery that only came to light when they were both taken to the vet for That Visit. But, since he knew his name, or seemed to know it, or respond to it, they decided to leave it, and Phoebe he remained, for the rest of his life.

Phoebe and his sister Abby - as mischievous kittens, and young cats - sent many happy hours exploring our garden, climbing the walls, walking on the walls, in focussed single file, climbing the sheds and garage, peering in at window-sills (it was not unusual to look up at 1.a.m. to find Phoebe prowling around, or seated on the window sill of my study, looking in at me), sometimes following my mother around when she was pottering around, or working on, her garden.

Whenever we had visitors, if they parked in the driveway, Phoebe in particular thought that the still warm engines were his own personal hot water bottle. In their own house, sky lights were a delight, especially the skylights on the kitchen extension - you'd see them peering down into the kitchen - and that extension also allowed convenient, and unfortunate, access to the window sill on the upstairs bathroom, and the windows and window sills of the upstairs bedrooms, and they were completely at home, sprawled on sofas, in their own living room.

While they were exceptionally close, for they were both litter mates and siblings, Phoebe was more outgoing, as he was a chatty and inquisitive cat, and he discovered - not that I knew it was there - catnip, or something similar - in our commodious garden, where I saw him proceed to lose himself in a state of oblivious and insane bliss. My mother - laughing - gave that plant as a gift to his owner.

A car put an end to Phoebe, whose explorations (despite the attentions of the vet, years earlier), had became more extensive as he aged, and Abby, by now ageing, - and always more reserved, - was on her own for a while. Their owner, meanwhile, was still at school, and later, was away at university, hence her mother looked after them much of the time.

Then, they got George, from the same people who had given them Abby & Phoebe. George was a young male, completely black, and Abby was most put out when he arrived - she kept smacking him, and scratching his nose, even though he tried hard, ceaselessly, endlessly forgiving and insanely friendly, to make friends with this ferocious matriarch.

I have to say that George was one of the most engaging cats I have ever met. His personality was wonderfully warm and - yes, - irresistible. He was very friendly, inquisitive, chatty, companionable and affectionate; by then, my mother's dementia was in its early stages, and somehow, she and George bonded.

He used to visit her faithfully every day, coming into the kitchen to chat with her in the morning; he followed her around the garden, on her prowls, stopping when she stopped, waiting for her to resume her walks and inspecting her work with interest, all the while cheerfully keeping her company; when she went out, he sat on the wall waiting for her, (he used to visit the neighbour who lived three houses away on the other side of his owners, as well, calling in daily, to him, too). Now, his actual owner was still at school, mid to late teens by then - and his owner's mother was out at work, but still, he sought out my mother, and she loved him.

It even got to the stage that school-kids would call into my mother with George, having spotted him on the wall, or outside the door, assuming that he was hers.

That autumn, I was away in Kyrgyzstan for several months on election based work, and when I returned, I noticed that George wasn't around; a car had done for him, and my mother was really upset; she had liked the other cats (especially Phoebe) but she had loved George, and he, in turn, seemed to have developed an attachment to her - I have never met a cat with such an appealing and engaging and friendly personality.

Abby, meanwhile, who had survived all this, was still an ageing matriarch (though one without kittens), and, while she had missed Phoebe, she was entirely indifferent to (if not, perhaps, privately pleased about - for she had never accepted him despite all of his entreaties) the passing of George.

My mother's dementia became more pronounced, Abby, in turn, went to the great cat-basket in the sky, and the current pair - and this is a telling detail - I don't even know their names, and my mother (who loved George) never bonded with them, while their owner wasn't there much as she was away at university, and was subsequently away, working as a teacher - seek to claim the garage roof, patrol the driveway, and find refuge in all of those wonderfully hidden corners of our large garden. I greet them, and they flick their tails at me. But, it is not the same.
 
Last edited:

Yoused

Power User
Posts
241
Reaction score
396
Back when my cat wasn't quite so lazy, he used to regularly scale trees
My Nefurtari was not exactly a tree climber, but she liked to come in my bedroom window. There is nothing near my window, just a flat wall that cannot be climbed (metal). It is about 7' from the ground to the sill. It startled me the first time she made an appearance there, but I got used to it and left the outer slider open so she could have a place to wait for me to open the inner slider. Cat doors, who needs them if you can have a cat window?

This was a smallish girl cat (probably about 10" fore-chest to butt), and I never really saw her doing other impressive jumps, but she could do that one. You can tell a strong jumping cat by the loose-hanging folds of flesh between their knees and chest. That was her.
 

lizkat

Site Champ
Posts
964
Reaction score
2,117
Surely the world's largest picture of a cat has now been discovered in Peru among the ancient drawings at the Nazcas Lines site.



tbh when I look at it for awhile, it kinda reminds me of the unusual cover for the Roger Joseph Manning Jr. album Catnip Dynamite.

cover art - Catnip Dynamite.jpg
 

Scepticalscribe

Moderator
Staff member
Posts
971
Reaction score
1,531
Two nights ago, - not far off 1 a.m. - I heard a noise - something had crashed into, or moved, or attempted to explore - one of the bins, that is tucked into a corner beside the outside wall directly outside my study, adjacent to, but not quite beneath, yet near the window.

About to investigate the noise, I looked up; there was next door's cat, sitting on the window sill, looking in at me. The cat had clearly used the bin as a sort of spring-board to gain access to the intriguing land inviting ledge of the window sill.

Now, that was a first, although (as mentioned in an earlier post), two of that cat's predecessors, Phoebe and Abby used to do that regularly, as young cats.
 
Last edited:
Top Bottom