Humourous Cat Anecdotes, Part 1

Hello there!

I love your page -- so does my cat, Nova. In fact, when I have the time, I shall be linking it to Nova's page (she's very insistent, and she insists that I tell you it's here).

Anyways, I thought (as you're a collector of cat humour) I would provide you with the true story of The Revenge of Nova.

Eight years ago, I was living with my ex-boyfriend, Gordon (who later turned out to be the Best Man at my wedding (grin)). Gordon had a quilt which he was fanatical about...HE was the only one who slept on it. However, Nova liked it too, and would take any opportunity to curl up on the quilt and sleep, scratch, or (once) blow a furball.

One day, Gordon came in early, and Nova was at her station, sound asleep on the aforementioned quilt. I was in the bedroom reading (on MY quilt) when he came in, and the first thing he did was lift Nova off the quilt and place her on the floor. Nova, being a typical cat, immediately jumped back onto the quilt and glared at Gordon. He dumped her on the floor again. She jumped back up. He dumped her on the floor again. She jumped back up. He picked her up and _threw_ her on the floor. That did it. Nova gave him a look that would have sent anyone to an early grave, then turned around, tail twitching, and left the room. I started to chew Gordon out for throwing my precious pusskins, and in the middle of my tirade, I noticed that Nova had returned.

Something looked odd about her. I realized that she was walking on the very tips of her paws. Puzzled, I watched her make a beeline for the bed, and yes, she was going to jump on the quilt. Before anyone could stop her, she landed full pounce on it, and proceeded to paw the quilt -- leaving streaks of cat poop all over the quilt! When she was sure her paws were clean (Gordon was dumbfounded, and I was laughing my head off) she gave him a look that said, "Hah! **** you!", flicked her tail, and bounced out of the room at top speed.

She got extra kitty treats in her dinner that night. :)

I hope you enjoyed that.

Cheerio...Tanya

About 20 years ago, we had a large neutered male (half Persian and half Siamese) that was grey in color which we called Dusty. Dusty had several interesting quirks about him:

He was totally unafraid of the vacuum cleaner, in fact, if we used an upholstery nozzle, we were to vacuum him as he sprawled on the carpet (from nose to tail, he measured almost 36 inches long.);

The water/juice from a jar of green olives made him act drunk (maybe the juice had something in common with catnip);

He liked to make the house echo from his 'thundering hooves' whenever he galloped from the living room down to the basement especially the sound that his claws made as he made the hard right turn to go downstairs (his 'all claws out' method failed him whenever we waxed the kitchen floor...those hard right turns inevitably turned into sidewise skids that send a very surprised Dusty into the back entry way).

Thomas B. Knoedler
Computer Services
University of Illinois at Springfield

On Sunday (Jan 7) I was just sitting down at the table to eat my lunch when Stormy, the original Bad Kitty, hopped up on my lap and managed to push her head around the margin of the table to inspect the contents of my plate (I was pretty close in to the table). She then snatched the top piece of bread and tried to run off with it! I was quick enough to slam my hand on the bread so she only got the corner, but I got jam on the table for my effort. She got a good squirting for that, but still had the nerve to give me that "injured" look! If that isn't chutzpah (or chutzpaw), I don't know what is!

The one that I never saw in my youth was my first cat (brought over by the crazy lady next door for a Christmas present w/o my parent's permission) was that one time my mother was cooking chicken in the oven. She opened up the door to pull out the pan and inspect the chicken. The cat stole a chicken leg and then was the subject of a chase throughout the house, where she ended up under the middle of my parent's king size bed and calmly ate it with my mother yelling at her.

My favorite was an old cat of mine that loved to eat breakfast with us. He was a big cat, and would get up on the edge of the table, and slowly inch his way across the table, as if we were not watching. One time he had his head about three inches away from an egg on my plate, and it took him fifteen minutes to get to the point where the nose was right by the plate. At that point I usually gave up and rewarded him for the patience.

Hi! I'm not sure if you could use these cat episodes on your page, but if you want to, here they are:

I used to have a box of aquarium supplies stored in my basement. One of my cats decided to use it as a litter box. I'm not sure how long ago she did that before I discovered it, but it wasn't fresh! I basically had to throw out most of the items in the box because they were fish food, aquarium filter stuff (that white fuzzy stuff) and things like that.

One cat, Tigger, licks just about anything. A couple of times, I have seen her licking the washing machine.

My other cat, Sugar Plum, eats elastics and anything else that is rubber or plastic, if she can get her paws on it.

Whenever my cat Tigger comes upstairs, she sits in our shower, sometimes even if it is wet.

To let us know that they want inside, our cats jump up into our kitchen window, which is by the back door.

Yes, our cats DO drink out of the toilet, whether they have water downstairs or not. They also do that other cat pastime, sniffing each other's behinds.

I liked your page. I could relate to some of those things . . .

Suzanne Currie

Thanks for your page, which a friend just directed me to. Felt like an idiot sitting in front of the screen in the office giggling hysterically (my colleagues are two dog-lovers and a non-animal-person), but hey, a happy idiot.

My first male cat, appropriately enough he was named Terrible Tom, was a street orphan, who had obviously tasted the joys of life before we got him--and got him fixed, *really* fast. So his "rule" would have been not to sit at the top of the stairs fellating myself when Mummy's 85-year-old unmarried aunt comes over for dinner (*every* time--how did he know?)

I had another cat (Pig) who *loved* Laura Secord white almond bark (which, now that I think of it, was a gift for the same aunt) to distraction, and chewed through the plastic bag covering the paper bag covering the brown paper covering in the box covering the waxed paper, to get at it. Once. After that, we kept it in the fridge until Christmas actually came.

I had two cats who couldn't understand why they couldn't get at the mice through the bars on the (mouse) cage--the mice knew they were safe, and just kept whirring around on their wheel, the cats were nuts.

I had a cat (T'Pau, but known as Widget, 'cause she only looked like her namesake, without her bravery and dignity) who hid in the rafters in the basement when anyone comes over.

I have (!) a cat, Scrapper, with lovely sharp claws, who sat on a table next to the black glove leather bomber jacket that an unwitting friend had hung on the coat tree...*not* a pretty sight thereafter...Daddy, who does taxidermy, lifted, glued, and dyed each minute claw tear--which was pretty good given that Daddy probably would rather have stuffed the cat.

I had a cat, Sneakers, who would pee on the basement floor *in front of* the litter box if I was one nanosecond past his 7-day limit in changing it--Sneakers had a bladder roughly the size of Lake Erie, and urine the concentration of hydrochloric acid. Sneakers has long gone to that great litter box in the sky, but on hot humid days, his memory lingers on in the basement.

*why* do we find these stories so endearing and funny?

current feline housemates are aforesaid Scrapper, Maja (our second-hand purebred, all the others are mutts, so she *knows* she's a princess), Fumble, and Gutz.

Oh hey--cat *and* bug story. Every so many years [here in North Bay, Ont.], we get a plague of tent caterpillars--so bad, for example, that, in the middle of the summer, the highways folks have to get the sanders out, 'cause all the squished caterpillars make the highways dangerous--no guff. The last time this wonderful event occurred was the first summer we were up here. These things collect in hollows in the ground. One of our cats went to go out the basement door into the carport, walked on what she obviously thought was a doormat in a little depression just outside the door, it was a mass of tent caterpillars, she went straight up and straight out--and still leaps over that particular exit to this day. Never knew a cat could act like a helicopter until I saw that.

Mr. Brat was (is?) a very independent cat (we've not seen him in a few months, but this doesn't mean much as you'll learn). He would disappear quite often for two weeks at a time. A few years back (more like 10 or so) Mr. Brat disappeared for over three weeks. We were all concerned. One day my brother Al spotted a black/white cat lying on the side of a busy road near our home. He confirmed it was Brat. My sister Anna Marie went to see for herself, as did my Mother and myself (all separate trips). We all agreed it was Brat. Al went back and retrieved the cat so we could give him a decent burial in our backyard with the rest of our family pets.

As Al and Anna Marie were finishing up with covering the cat in the nicely dug hole (in VERY hard ground), there was a sudden MEOW that came from the fence behind them. There was Brat sitting on the fence WATCHING. He promptly jumped from the fence and ran DIRECTLY across the fresh grave. At first all were stunned, and then of course we couldn't stop laughing. In our backyard is quite the menagerie of pets *passed* along with the tomb of the unknown feline.

Brat is 21 years old now. He was last seen Christmas 1995. This is a nice age for an indoor cat, let alone an outdoor cat. I hope if he has spent his nine lives someone has given him a decent burial in their backyard.

Hope you can use this anecdote. I've always enjoyed sharing it.

Christina Ferrigno

Thank you for providing me with a great lunch hour...and my sister with a hilarious (if lengthy) email from me! We're both cats lovers and appreciate the stories on your lists. I've printed it to show to my mother when she comes to dinner tonight.

My household is an odd one...I have two Dobermans, one Australian Shepherd, Two Chinchilla Persians, A chocolate-point Siamese and a baby, abandoned alley cat. All of us live in the house together, and manage quite well to peacefully coexist. My baby cat (Tabitha) and her Siamese Mentor, Rajah, sent me into fit of laughter the other evening. Dinner time is a big deal, as you can imagine... the cats, by logic, ALWAYS eat first, then the oldest Doberman (who worships the cats), then the Aussie (Jake) who cares about nothing unless it is large and runs very fast (horses, cows, cars), then the young Dobie, Dutch. As I washed dishes from breakfast, Jake began to whimper. I turned around only to find that Tabitha had climbed into the dog's bowl, and Rajah was helping her eat, while the Persians (Solomon and Aslan) had backed him into the corner, precariously close to the water bowls. Did I mention that Jake weighs in excess of 85 pounds?

Dear Harold,
I thoroughly enjoyed your article on the Basic Rules for Cats Who Have a House to Run. I printed out a copy so my husband could read it, and then send it on to my technology challenged mother. I think I have the ultimate story about being dominated by a cat. My cat, Mischief, picked out my husband for me. Of course, she was right. Eric and I have been married for 11 years now.

She tries to play us off against each other. "Mommy, Mommy, Daddy didn't feed me before he went to work this morning!!!" "Daddy, Daddy, Mommy didn't feed me, not once, all day!!!" One time she tried this when my husband came in from the barn, and she was still licking her chops from my having just fed her. Truth is a highly pliable commodity to a cat.

She also occasionally catches a mouse (quite a feat for a 16 year old cat with no claws). But unfortunately, she then brings them, very much alive, to us in our bed. This usually occurs at about 3:30 in the morning. She promptly lets it go, in the bed, and you can imagine the results.

Thank you again, Skye M. Barnes

When I was offered a job in Ohio, I moved out there (with my cat in tow) before my fiancé (and his cat). The day he was to arrive, I was expecting him to come to my place of work to pick up house keys. He showed up four hours late, wet and very angry. The story goes like this:

His cat (BlackJack, named after the White Sox pitcher, not the game) does NOT like to ride in cars. To deal with that fact, Mike locked the poor little thing up in a travel carrier. Black Jack promptly took a dump in it one hour into the trip. So Mike pulls over to clean up the cage. While dumping the kitty's dump by the side of the road, Black Jack hits the automatic door locks on his car!!! In the pouring down rain, Mike spends 2 hours trying to get the cat to undo what he has done!!!

(In the end, AAA was called, but in the meantime, that was NOT a very well loved cat!!!)

I enjoyed your page,
Amy Dowell