originally posted by Jay_Jay

Blue, when your parents get up into their 80's, then are pushing 90, you get used to thinking about the Grim Reaper. I just never expected the deaths to come so close together, nor did I expect to lose my husband as well (triple whammy there: heart disease, stroke AND cancer!) I'm reeling from it, I have to confess. However, I have confidence that life will eventually settle down again into some sort of a new 'normal' pattern, and I'll get my balance back. I was just starting to feel that I was recovering from Roger's loss when my mom went, a month after suffering a stroke. She'd been doing really well until then, except for some arthritis and memory loss due to her age. Now, the whole grieving process is starting all over again.

If you catch the Angel of Death, give him a triple kick from me, will ya? Better yet, tell me where you found him, and I'll go do it personally. Sometimes you just have to lash out at SOMETHING to help deal with all the pain!

Shadow is a sweetheart, no doubt about it! He's the gentlest cat I've ever owned, and has never scratched me, except when he's lost his balance, and had to dig his claws in to keep from falling.

Tasha has pancreatitis, and cost me $1,500 in vet bills last week. Alas, the diarrhea (the main symptom) has come back as of last night. She's skinny as a rail, and I'm starting to ask myself 'how much longer do I let this go on?' The average lifespan for the Shepherd is only about 12 to 13 years, and she'll be 14 in May.

I have to confess, I have a bit of a prophetic gifting (must be the Irish blood) and sometimes I just KNOW something is significant. See the post above, from December of 2002. Part of it was my mom's ring breaking, portending her separation from my father, but the other part was the whiskers. I'm sure it was a warning, to prepare me for what was to come. The closest death had come to home in my life at that time was the passing of my Grandma and her cat, the one the whiskers belonged to.

Don't let my Christian friends hear me say this, but aren't cat whiskers often used in magic rituals? I know they are good conductors of eletricity.

originally posted by jane isham

Jay Jay-

I am so sorry for your losses. I don't typically post, but I felt compelled. I lost my father, my mother's sister and my grandmother at this time of year over the past four years. My mother says there is an old saying that if you can make it past winter, you'll see summer and fall. I am hoping that for you and my family's sake, three is completing the cycle.

My father was reading Grand Conspiracy when he passed and I had a difficult time even looking at the book for a long time, even though its my favorite cover. Now I just think its my duty to remember all the details so I can let him know when I see him again.

I truly believe we all move on to another dimension, regardless of our religious beliefs.

And with a bit of humor, the best of us come back as spoiled house cats.


originally posted by Jay_Jay

[snort!] I'm sure Blue will heartily agree with you, Jane!

A sense of humour does help one get through times like this. I think I thoroughly shocked one of my step-sons when he turned to me during the funeral service and asked me how I was holding up.

"It gets easier with practise," I responded.

He had to try very hard to keep from laughing out loud!

originally posted by PurplePenny

My father-in-law, Fred, was cremated and the family gathered for the ashes to be scattered on the Common that had been his childhood haunt.

Fred's childhood friend had been asked to scatter the ashes and although he was 80 he was as fit and spry as a man twenty years younger … which was just as well! None of us had any idea of how much ash there is in an urn. He scattered here and he scattered there, then he squeezed between some bushes and scattered somewhere else. Next he started flinging the ashes over bushes and trees… and still the urn wasn't empty.

I found myself trying very hard not to laugh and it didn't help at all when Kev lent over to me and whispered "Dad must have put on a bit of weight.".

In the end this poor guy was just tipping the ashes out and finally upturned the entire urn and let the remainder out in a pile. By then I had a tissue stuffed in my mouth to stop the giggles.

Recently Kev finally felt that he could tell his Mum how we had been stifling our laughter … and she admitted that she had been too!! We all agreed that actually Fred would have wanted us to laugh.

originally posted by Blue

I also find it amazing how much cats can help overcome grief. Since July of 2004, we have lost, in succession

1. Our good friend Don [cancer]
2. My neighbor of 30 years Erich, Bill’s son [heart attack]
3. Grandpa [cancer]
4. My neighbor of 30 years Bill, Erich’s father [cause uncertain]

In all of those times, my cats have come through with some really wild antics to keep Chet and me amused. The following happened the day BEFORE April Fool’s Day. I am still having trouble believing it. And my ribs still ache.


New toy for the boys!

March 31 2005

Just when you think you’ve seen it ALL with cats, especially Stormcloud and Camas, they up the ante. For the last few days, I have been going through boxes and boxes of stuff, and trying to figure out what can go over to Rev. Bill’s old place for a rummage sale.

Being the daughter of two packrats, it is rather like trying to decide which limb one wishes to have amputated. I have gone through my Barbie doll collection, trying to figure out which ones I will deign to part with. Some of them are over 20 years old, and though they are not still in their original boxes, and some have seen hard use, there is still part of me that insists they will be worth some real money, if only I could find a buyer. Sigh.

I was tired of all of the pitiful howling and banging against Chet’s door, so I let the hairy little mental cases out of his room. It took them about forty five minutes to realize that squalling pathetically was not going to get them fed this many hours before their regular feeding time. Sunday went back into Chet’s room to pout, and catch some rays on the windowsill.

Stormy and Camas, meantime, were finding all sorts of trouble to get into, while checking on me from time to time to see if I was doing anything interesting, or showing signs that I was going to feed them soon.

When I moved out of the house a few years ago, I packed all of my stuff in 10 and 15 gallon plastic tubs. Though I had a pretty good inventory system, wherein every tub was numbered and had a corresponding sheet in an Excel file, I still like to look at the stuff once in a while. As a result, I had a huge stack of these things in my room, while the boys were out jetting through the living room, scoping out new hiding places, and new trouble they could get into.

I was rolling between stacks of boxes, pulling the dolls out of one box, and sorting them into the categories of ‘sell’ and ‘that one HAS to stay!’

As I was doing this, Stormy was sitting in the doorway, watching the goings on. Camas was in the hallway, between my room and Chet’s. Camas is still afraid of the wheelchair, so he makes sure that he has an escape route in case I start his way.

I had five or six dolls in my hand that were going into the ‘sell’ box, and as I made my way over there, I dropped one of them. Stormy had been watching the dolls very carefully, and I had no idea why.

The next thing I knew, I turned around, and the doll was being dragged by its hair toward the doorway. Stormy and Camas were crouched over it, looking like a pair of lions with a kill. They were swatting this poor doll with their paws, occasionally squabbling with each other as to whose doll it was.

I just about fell out of my chair laughing at the sight of these two playing with their dolly! They gave me a typical Stormy-and-Camas-in-trouble look, as if to say, ‘What the hell is her problem now?’ and dragged the doll further out my door toward Chet’s room.

By this point, I am having trouble breathing, and Sunday, who was sitting on top of the kitty condo, was giving me strange looks. It took me a bit to finally calm down, and I called Chet’s cell phone, figuring he was out helping one of his computer customers.

‘You’re not going to believe the new toy the boys are playing with, Chet.’

‘Oh? What now?’

‘You know how I was going through those Barbie dolls for the last few days?’


‘Well, I dropped one of them, and the boys are having a blast with it!’

I could not tell you WHAT he said next, because I was laughing really hard again. Stormy looked at me, growled and swatted at his brother, then grabbed the doll by the hair and dragged it into the living room.

When Chet got home a few hours later, he was chiding me about making sissies out of the boys. He picked the doll up, and waved it at them, and Stormy and Camas went into full stalk mode. Chet started cackling, too, at the sight of two grown carnivores fighting over a Barbie doll.

Later that night, when Chet picked up our youngest brother Bill from work, he told Bill all about the cats’ new toy. Bill’s response was, ‘Yeah, and the scary thing is that Sunday was not the one playing with the doll, it was the boys.’

originally posted by Ika

Hi Janny, and everyone!

I'm sorry that some of you have lost your loved ones. I thought I'd share what my cat did the other day with you guys to add to the crazy and funny things cats do to cheer people up. :wink:

Our cat Mimi came into our house several months ago as a stray and wouldn't leave ever since. And throughout the last weeks we've begun to bond, BUT he's also developing a nasty habit of going bonkers and being outright annoying.

He'd lick my tea when I wasn't looking, go outside and roll on the dirt after we bathe him WHEN we're looking, and meow his lungs out when he comes inside at 5.30 in the morning just for the heck of it like he's announcing his arrival!

Three days ago, I left my laptop on a makeshift table in my room, and Mimi got to it!

There was this printed celtic design I loved so much, which I plastered on the top cover, and it was literally TORN TO PIECES! What's worse…to my dismay, I discovered this nasty liquid running down the side of the laptop.

HE PEED ON IT! *laughs*

It kinda short-circuited the keyboards for a while, so the letters came out wrong whenever I typed…Had to wait a couple of days and intense cleaning to get the laptop working again. The smell's stuck though. Mimi wouldn't even come inside the house that night, probably knowing I would kill him if he did. lol.

When he finally DID come into the house…he had the guts to come to me and look all cute and innocent and purr louder than usual. lol…crazy cat!

Cheers everyone :wink:

originally posted by Jay_Jay

I once had a cat pee on my computer screen. Unfortunately, he also nailed the floppy drive, which was below the screen, and it got right into the slot, and wrecked the floppy!

Maybe you're only now discovering WHY this cat became homeless in the first place!

The most annoying thing my cat does is play in the water. He would dump his water bowl all over the floor. I had to take it away from him, and now he has to drink from the dog's dish. Even then, he still tries to play with her bowl, and I sometimes find the floor around the dish covered with puddles. But now that I've moved to a houuse with a ceramic kitchen floor, the bowl makes a loud noise if he tries moving it. This brings Tasha running to chase him away!

originally posted by jane isham

Ika & Jay Jay-

I loved your cat stories! Makes the things my kitty does sound tame. Mookie is my 16 year old blue-cream point Himalayan. Basically, a tiny white fur ball with a gray flat face and really sharp teeth. Note that at various times this kitty is also known as "Stinker kitty" and "the Devil kitty from Hell".

Anyway, we moved about a year and a half ago and she has since taken up some new habits. I am thinking she's getting a bit senile as for a cat that very rarely even meowed, she has decided that yowling at the top of her voice in the two story open staircase at 3 am is a good idea (it echoes quite nicely). We've decided that she has forgotten where we are (asleep)and is lonely, as once you get up and pet her a bit, she'll be quiet.
Her second new habit is that she demands (sometimes at 3am) to drink fresh water from the tap. My husband says she has become a connoisseur of fresh water. Mind you we do keep a small cup on the bathroom counter as she has always loved the tap. Now fresh water in a cup will not satisfy the small beast.

Now you might be thinking that the small beast has trained her human companions quite well. Funny what you are willing to do to get back to sleep. :smiley:

originally posted by Memory

Not a cat story, but my sister has a house rabbit. He's pretty well-behaved, but a friend of hers who also has one had problems when his weed on a laptop ;)Hers just tries to chew wires, but they've managed to stop him by putting masking tape around them, which he hates and won't go near!

originally posted by Blue

Chet was out of town for 10 days, and I was left home alone with the felines.

God, they love this.

I am not as agile as I used to be, thanks not only to this stupid spinal cord injury, but also because the place is a disaster area. This means hidey holes galore, especially if they don't feel like returning to Chet's room.

Whenever the cats are fed, they are allowed out of Chet's room, and free rein in the apartment. Not really the best of ideas, considering how destructive they are, and this means heightened vigilance.

Friday night was especially trying with the hairy little darlins.

Camas had spent most of the day doing his air raid siren impersonation, to the point where I was ready to turn his blonde hide into part of Chet's Rendezvous/Mountain Man gear. It always surprises me that so much noise can come out of one comparatively small kitty.

Anyway, I was tired at the end of the day, and figured it was time for the little "angels" to go to Chet's room.

Camas decided to dive under Chet's desk. It took me the better part of 20 minutes of moving Chet's crap around and getting increasingly peeved at the little blonde menace before I finally caught him. I tossed him into Chet's room and there went the air raid siren again.


Stormy, the ex-genius, naturally, had taken note of this and had made himself scarce as well.

However, I was hungry, too lazy to contemplate making anything really complex to eat, and I decided to satisfy my hunger and trap Stormy by one of his main Achilles Heels - microwave popcorn.

I went into the kitchen and took out a package of popcorn, and it was merely the rattling of the cellophane wrap that had his undivided attention. Wouldn't you know, though, the little booger knew what I was up to, and we played a game of "Catch me if you can!" He would get JUST into fingertip range, then bolt away.

I sat down with the bowl of popcorn, and suddenly, I was the beloved mommy/feeder figure again. He was up on his hind paws, with his front paws on my legs, occasionally swatting my hand to remind me that he, too, likes popcorn.

Of course the slippery little devil would evade any lunge to grab his scruff.


By this time, I was tired, and irate at the amount of effort it was taking to round him up.

Then Camas and Sunday both started a territorial squall in Chet's room, which is usually reserved for any cat passing the window; but it could also mean that they were ready to tear chunks out of each other. Camas, of course, is the worst offender, having the biggest mouth.

I finally caught Stormy, and the look on his face indicated he knew what was up. "Uh, oh, I'd better go quietly or she'll make good on turning me into a Rendezvous pelt!"

He may be an ex-genius, but he's no dummy, either.

I opened the door to Chet's room in time to hear the loudest of Camas's squalls to that point, and I finally lost it.

"CAMAS HOUDINI MEADOWS PUT A SOCK IN IT!" I bellowed, and this had two interesting effects.

First, Camas shut up, PDQ. The second was even funnier.

Stormy, whom I had been holding at this point, startled, and leapt out of my arms, completely freaked out. Normally, considering he uses his claws to launch, I would be furious, and looking around for a skinning knife.

Not this time.

Stormy leapt out of my arms all right, and did a header… right into the freshly filled quart-sized water dish. The last time I saw of him for the rest of the night, he was running and trying to shake himself dry at the same time, heading for sanctuary under Chet's bed.

I have a couple of scratches on my left arm, and sore ribs as a result of laughing REALLY hard.

All I could think was, "Thank God Chet's going to be home tomorrow night and HE can deal with putting the little "angels" away!"

originally posted by Ika Nurain

Hi everyone.

I am currently in a dillema over my cat, Mimi. We're moving out of our house to a flat that's like 15 stories high…and well, I'm deathly worried that Mimi won't adapt well to the new place. There's no backyard for him to run around or hide in…the place barely has any grass…just huge blocks of parking lots.

We don't want to lock him up, but we're worried about letting him run loose. He's not really quiet…might irritate the neighbours with his constant meowing.

I'd really appreciate any suggestions on how to get the cat adapted to a new place =)

thank you and cheers everybody,

originally posted by Blue

How old is Mimi? Consider getting her a lot of toys to help keep her active, and her mind off of her smaller digs. There is also the possibility that you could get her some kitty furniture, such as a kitty condo, or a "racket tunnel," which can also be faked up with a paper grocery bag.

Anyone else have suggestions?

Get a kitten - the two will amuse each other.

originally posted by R’is’n

We did both, extra kittens and toys and it helped a lot. Our older cat even lost weight and started playing again! (She obviously got in touch with her inner kitten…) I’d always been taught cats were loners, but this proves otherwise.

originally posted by Ika Nurain

Hi everyone! Thanks for the suggestions =)

Blue, we have no idea how old mimi is, yet. But I think he's close to being middle-aged. He has a flabby tummy and he's not as active as a kitten. The vet visit's gonna be soon. We gave her…uh, him, a female name because we initially thought he was a girl…turned out to be a boy. By then it was too late to call him something else. We figured that the poor thing got castrated and belonged to someone else before coming to live with us.

Janny, a kitten came by shortly after mimi did a couple of years back…and Mimi kept on slapping the kitten on the head because the kitten wouldn't stop trying to nurse from him *laughs*. Hence the whole boy/girl confusion…We're still boggled on mimi's true gender. The kitten died shortly after though.

Thanks for the suggestions guys!


originally posted by Blue

Ika, gender confusion plays a hilarious and ironic role in another case.

Chet's cat Sunday [the Hutt] had a litter of kittens and he had some friends more than willing to give them homes. One of them, a lady named Alice, picked a kitten and named her Princess. Alice took Princess in for spaying, and found out Princess needed to be neutered instead. Alice called Chet, initially sounding angry, but she broke up laughing and said, "My Princess is a Prince!"

The reason the above is so ironically funny? Before Alice's OWN little operation, her name was Steven…

originally posted by Auna


My hubby and I rescued a cat from certain death (abused and homeless with winter coming). We named 'him' Morris who turned out to be female. My defense is that I don't go looking that closely at skittish cats with claws :wink:

originally posted by PurplePenny


have you had Mookie checked out for hyperthyroid? Night-time howling and wanting water are both typical of being hyperthyroid.

originally posted by max

I had a Natasha black cat who after a visit from the vet became Bagheera. No problem with his name tho because he won't answer to ANYTHING except 'do you want to be late for dinner'. He is enormous! but that is because he is big and furry. He is very athletic and indoor-outdoor cat. Always hunts. We tried to put a stop to bird hunting with a harness [made for cats] and had 4 bells on it that he managed to get rid of 1 by 1. But he is a great kitty! Lets the kids carry him, plays with my daughter's chihuahua, sits on roofs, loves the other family dog, charligirl, and in general keeps the yard clear of moles. What more could I ask for? [grinning at ya]

originally posted by Blue

My cats only VERY rarely come when they are called by name, and somewhat less rarely is "kitty, kitty, kitty" which admittedly, Chet and I alter slightly with sh where the k is supposed to be.

Stormy, however, comes running whenever either of us makes microwave popcorn. If he is locked in Chet's room (they spend a lot of time in there, due to their destructive tendencies) he will howl like a banshee if he hears the popcorn popping.