Hi, Ace! Here's a six-pack of odd and amusing anecdotes related to my
lifetime hobby of collecting stray pussycats. I'm sure these stories
are not nearly as funny as the stories the cats tell among themselves
about the stupid human tricks they see every day.
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Missy Catches a Slow One
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Many decades ago my family had a wonderful calico cat named Missy
(which was short for 'Miscellaneous', in reference to her coat of many
colors.) Missy was an outdoor kitty, since my mom and dad thought that
pets belonged outside. Unfortunately, even when she was stoked full of
Little Friskies, Missy still liked to hunt wildlife, and nearly every
day she brought home the corpses of birds, squirrels, and an
occasional toad. In order to make her predatory sprees less effective,
we equipped her collar with a bell so that the prey would hear her
coming. Soon thereafter, Missy appeared on the doormat with her latest
victim: a stuffed plush toy parrot that she had filched from a
neighbor's child.
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Leela Sees a Ghost
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Leela was a proud and dignified Siamese cat named after a character
from "Dr. Who," "Leela the Huntress." Like Missy, Leela the Killer
Meezer loved to stalk things. However, since Leela lived indoors, she
usually couldn't find much of anything to stalk except moths and
dustbunnies. One day we were startled to see Leela racing through the
house frantically, as if she were either pursuing something or being
pursued. On closer examination, we saw that, stuck to the tip of her
tail, there was a small piece of Scotch tape affixed to a scrap of
white paper (probably something left over from the tax preparation
that we'd been doing earlier in the day.) Leela apparently noticed
that this odd white thing was following her everywhere, and she was
running in a panic, as fast as she could, to escape it. This went on
for about ten minutes; the tape and paper finally fell off, and Leela
spent the rest of the day hiding under the bed. In later years, when
she became fat and lethargic, we would sometimes speculate that one
way to perk her up would be to tape a piece of paper to her tail.
Aerobic exercise is usually a good thing, but it's so hard to work up
the motivation.
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Leela Finds a Mousie
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At one time, in addition to cats, we had a large collection of
rodents. Mice, hamsters, gerbils, and rats occupied a spare bedroom of
our home, in dozens of cages. Every now and then there would be an
escape; usually the escapee was never seen again, and was presumed
dead. Once a cute little mouse gnawed through the screen lid of his
cage and disappeared. He was among the missing for over a week, and we
might never have located him if it hadn't been for Leela. We noticed
that she was staring under the couch with an obsessive intensity. I
got a flashlight, shone it under the couch, and saw two tiny, bright
eyes staring back at me. The mousie was thin, but otherwise OK. Much
to Leela's disappointment, the little critter was returned to his
cage, not handed over to her. Leela did get a finder's fee of Fancy
Feast.
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Graypet Takes a Ride
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This is a story that became funny only in retrospect. We adopted a big
old gray cat who had been abandoned when some neighbors moved away. We
called him Graypet (a feeble pun on the name of a soda, "Grapette.")
Since he was an outside cat, and disinclined to be otherwise, we
allowed him to do as he pleased in the yard. One day my husband left
the house in a big hurry, jumped in the car, and sped off. As he drove
down the expressway, other drivers kept gesturing to him, but he
didn't understand what the gestures meant until he reached his
destination. He parked at a Sears store, got out of the car, and saw
poor Graypet clinging to the roof of the car desperately (at least
there was a luggage rack.) My husband safely returned Graypet home
(inside the car this time,) and the silly old thing (meaning the cat,
not the husband) continued to sun himself on the roof of the car for
years thereafter, having learned nothing from his wild ride.
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Elvis Has Entered the Building
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My husband operates his business from our home, and for several years
he had employees coming and going, using a company vehicle that we
parked on a drive in back of the house. One day an employee came into
the house for a drink of water. He said, casually, "There's a big cat
in the company car." I went out back, and, sure enough, there was. A
large, handsome bull's-eye tabby was sitting in the front seat of the
car, looking as if he owned the world. He had jumped in through a
partially-opened car window, and he didn't seem interested in leaving.
We lured him out of the car and into the house with an offer of
Starkist tuna (this would probably work with just about anything you
find in your car, unless it's a strict vegetarian.) The cat made
himself right at home, seeming very content with the living situation,
and even getting along with the other cats. We put him back outside,
thinking he must have a place to go, but he would not leave. That was
twelve years ago. He's still here. We named him Elvis Pussley, in
honor of his fine vibrato-enhanced caterwauling, which could wake the
dead and cause them to throw old shoes.
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Skunkie Says Meowa Culpa
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We've had a sweet (but wacky) little guy named Skunkie Doodle for
sixteen years now. He was named for the incredible stench of his poop
when he was a kitten; coupled with the fact that he is black and
white, with a fluffy tail, the skunk reference was inevitable. One
year on my husband's birthday I carefully wrapped a birthday gift and
hid it in a grocery sack so that hubby wouldn't discover it. Hubby
didn't get to see it, since Skunkie saw it first. I heard rustling,
crackling sounds, and when I came into the room Skunkie was sitting
there surrounded by the wrapping paper and ribbon, looking more guilty
than any cat I've ever seen. Fortunately I had a camera handy. Here is
the evidence:
http://www.mortalwombat.com/Image/Meowa_Culpa.jpg
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My search strategy:
I don't have to search for 'em. Cats find me. ;-)
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Thanks for asking a question that was most enjoyable to answer! Best
wishes to your meezers. I am among those who feel that life without a
Siamese cat is "pointless."
~Pink |
Request for Answer Clarification by
aceresearcher-ga
on
09 May 2003 14:35 PDT
Thank you, Pink, and everyone else, for your stories!
Probably my best stories involve Mischief. He was my first cat when I
graduated from college and began living in the "real world". He was a
stray, an approximately 1-year-old Siamese whom I adopted from the
finder, who could not keep him.
He went nameless for 2 weeks, while I waited for him to pick out his
own name. After 2 weeks of getting ready for work in the morning, and
hearing all kinds of rustling, banging, and crashing while I did my
hair and makeup in the bathroom (followed by his strolling into the
bathroom and looking up at me with big innocent eyes), I realized he
had chosen "Mischief".
Mischief loved food -- of most any kind -- and was notorious for his
clever and persistent ways of getting it. I had a difficult time
trying to eat olives (green or black), raisins, popcorn, and crackers
-- a dark brown blur would go flying by and snatch it from my hand as
it moved from the bowl to my mouth. He especially loved corn --
chewing on the remains of corn-on-the-cob, or licking the plate or
bowl when I cooked a pan of corn to go with steak. Once, when we were
gone all day skiing, he wedged a huge Rubbermaid container full of
corn muffins into the kitchen sink, pried off the lid, and ate every
last one (around 18 muffins).
Once when my sister and her husband came to visit, I bought some
breakfast items for them including a coffee cake. The night they
arrived, I warned them that they could not leave ANY food out -- EVER
-- because Mischief would get into it, and he was really fast. When I
came home from work the next afternoon, my brother-in-law told me that
he had gotten the coffee cake out of the frig, set it on the counter,
and turned around to put a filter and coffee into the coffeemaker.
When he turned back around, it was gone. He finally found it -- in a
far corner of the kitchen, in the possession of Mischief, who had
already chewed through the plastic and eaten a chunk of it.
The frig door in that apartment was not weighted properly, and you had
to be careful that you closed it completely. Once I accidentally did
not quite get it closed, and when we returned home, my husband (then
my boyfriend) walked into the kitchen and then called for me to join
him. "Look," he said, "Mischief made ham sandwiches while we were
away." Sure enough, the ham, cheese, and bread had each been dragged
out of the frig and partially consumed.
Mischief was also quite fond of Pounce treats. At my sister's house
for Christmas, I found an empty, chewed-up container of them at the
bottom of my bed and asked my sister, "Didn't we put these away
yesterday after we gave them to the cats?" The can was indeed still in
the cupboard where we had placed it. My sister thought for a moment,
then went to the living room, dug down to the bottom of a huge pile of
presents, and discovered that a kitty gift was missing (the bow was
later found nearby). He had smelled the treats through a never-opened
can and a large pile of gifts, which he excavated. From the looks of
the can, it had taken him awhile to get it open.
Pounce treats came in a cylindrical cardboard/foil can approximately 4
inches tall and 3 inches in diameter. Since he associated this shape
with treats, he at different times tore open a package of Crystal
Light mixes, and a can of 2 racquetballs.
When we moved to our townhouse, we had to "child-proof" all our
kitchen cabinet doors. He was able to easily open cupboards, and had
previously torn into packages of corn-muffin mix and dry chocolate
pudding mix (talk about skunkie doodie!)
Now we are able to leave food out as much as we want; but instead of
me being happy about this, it actually makes me sad and nostalgic for
the days when my beloved Mischief was around and would get into
anything.
Thanks, all --
ace
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