originally posted by Jay_Jay
Sarah, speaking from experience here, there is really nothing you can do short of keeping them separated. I tried to introduce another male cat to my existing cat, and they have been fighting ever since. Luckily, there have been no serious injuries, though they frequently scratch each other.
Some cats get along very well after the initial adjustment period. Some don't. The problem I'm having is because the introduced cat is bigger and heavier than the resident cat, and both are males (neutered). The resident cat feels threatened, and has to beat the other guy up to assert his superiority. The only thing I'm doing to mediate is shutting the new cat in the spare bedroom, so I don't have fights breaking out in the middle of my bed in the wee hours of the morning, when I'm trying to sleep!
In your situation, the dynamics will probably change when the kitten reaches its full growth.
Footnote: my German Sheperd gets along with Shadow, my original cat, much better than the newcomer does! As I type this, the cat is sprawled at Ranger's feet, and Ranger is bathing him!
originally posted by max
Our cat, Bagheera attacked a big dog that was wrestling with the chihuahua and got a little rough. He really was a big puppy, but he he bit Snookie too hard and made him cry out. Bagheera jumped on the big dogs back and bit him pretty good. No one messes with Bagheera's little brother!!! smiling at ya
originally posted by Jay_Jay
Bagheera sounds like he's well named! (Loved the Jungle Books!)
I've always had a soft spot for black cats (blame my grandmother for that, almost all her cats were black!) Shadow is all black except for a tiny sprinkle of white hairs on his chest.
I once had a brown tabby I rescued from the back alleys of Edmonton that would beat up my neighbour's Irish Wolfhound just for the exercise. Yet, when introduced to my roomie's old mixed-breed collie, he immediately became friends with it. They'd eat out of the same dish!
originally posted by Blue
This is the story of Stomy and his blankie, with an update!
Not too long after we moved into this apartment, back in 2002, I talked about getting some leg warmers to use while I was sitting at the computer desk. My computer desk - actually one of those hollow plastic tables you can get at Costco - is right in front of my bedroom window, and it can get REALLY cold. I was worried, because it was my first winter, post spinal cord injury, and I did not want hypothermia that I might not realize was creeping up on me.
However, to get the good quality leg warmers, it was about 50 bucks. I hope to HELL those things were knitted with golden needles.
Chet, however, came up with an alternative, and that was to go to Wal Mart and buy a throw. I saw one with colors I liked, and for $5.50 on sale, I had a throw to put over my legs to keep warm. It is really nice, kind of like a stadium blanket, and it has a faux fur surface that feels almost like wool.
When it got REALLY cold that year, I used the throw on my bed to augment the king sized comforter.
Stormy would sometimes hop up on my bed, and I would be able to pet him for all of about 2 seconds, before his kitty ADHD would kick in and he would be jetting away.
However, the first time I had that throw on my bed, he hopped up, and tensed, as though he were going to jump off, but he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes got as big as saucers, and the next thing I knew, he was rubbing all four paws on that throw, before flopping and rolling all over the throw, as though he were trying to make sure there was not one square inch he had not felt. Who knows, maybe he thought there was a hidden rough patch, and was trying to smooth it out. From that point forward, every time I had that throw out on my bed, Stormy was there, making sure that I was kept company. And he would spend HOURS at a time with me when I did have it out.
Fast forward to Sunday, November 5, 2006.
I brought out the throw again, because the weather merited it with the brief cold spell we had. Stormy was in ECSTASY, because HIS throw was out and waiting there just for HIM.
Unfortunately, he does not like sleeping on my bed, because I am a restless sleeper. I also do not like his tendency to jump down when he gets freaked out by my moving around, only to jump back up 20 or 30 minutes later, right in the middle of me with his little lead paws, and start whining at me. So come bedtime for me, he gets locked out of my room. He likes sleeping on Chet more anyway, since that means he can cuddle up with Camas and Sunday the Hutt as well.
But, he has NOT forgotten that HIS throw is out on my bed, and HE is not on it!
So at about 545 am on Sunday, November 5, 2006, he decided it had been long enough since he had been banished. He sat down in front of my door, and began serenading me at the top of his lungs. I could hear Chet out in the living room, quietly trying to call him away from my door, or to shut up.
I lay there for a while, torn. Do I give in to the spoiled little hairball, and let him in, thus allowing him to think he can get his way whenever he sits outside my door and howls, which just encourages such naughty behavior, or do I ignore him, hope my nerves can cope, and Stormy "learns his lesson"?
This went on for about 45 minutes, and just as I thought I might have outlasted the little monster, Chet came into my room to ask if I wanted to get ready to go run errands. At the same time, and I'm surprised the jet wash did not knock Chet flat on his butt, Stormy rushed in, and jumped up on my bed.
Chet was snickering as I grabbed Stormy and proceeded into "Crushin' the Russian" (the code for paying attention to Stormy). Stormy allowed me a half second token scritch before wriggling free and diving for the throw, which was wadded up beside me. Within a half second, Stormy had vanished, burrowing underneath the throw.
Chet and I were laughing outright at the silly critter, and Chet left my room, so that I could get ready to go out on errands. For about the next 45 minutes, I just let him enjoy his blankie, and made snide comments that I probably needed to do the laundry, because my throw was evolving to the point where it was moving on its own.
Stormy had the most pitiful, betrayed look on his face when we excavated him and sent him to Chet's room while we were out.
originally posted by motley
*grin* Love it, Blue.
My slinky half-burmese, Bu, has taken to jumping up and down on me in the mornings, at around 5:30, to demand food. He's nearly a year old. He jumps through the window, ricochets off me onto the side-cabinet, BACK onto me, and then leaps a metre or so onto the cat post. If I didn't get that, he also yowls. His half-british blue brother, Bailey gets excited, and adds his girly soprano and sometimes his somewhat heavier weight to the melee of cats, shrieks, duvet flying, and catching various trinkets from spilling onto the floor from the bedside cabinet. The husband, slumbers on.
Eventually I semi-sleep walk down the corridor, nearly tripping as they bullet past, to toss some food and water into their bowls.
An hour later I wake up to husband's alarm clock, the sign for the two cats to think… ooh… maybe she'll feed us again…
bounce, yelp, miaow, shriek, crash, yell, (Husband still snoring…)
originally posted by Blue
Stormy just loves HIS throw. I could not tell you why.
It's funny to watch him burrowing sometimes, especially when he knows I am watching, and he is not trying to hide from Chet.
I sometimes wad it up at the foot of the bed, and he will approach it carefully, pawing gently at it, as though he's hoping it won't attack or turn him away. Then he starts working his way underneath it, again, very carefully.
I was treated to the sight of a feline fanny sticking out of the throw. He was working it around, as though making it as comfortable nest as possible for himself. He was quite annoyed when I kept tweaking his tail and saying, "Honk!" as he was trying to settle himself.
Another funny aspect is when I am stretching out and go to pull the throw over me. It's felt somewhat heavy, and distractedly thinking I had a pillow caught up in it, I have been surprised by a Russian Rocket squawking indignantly at me as he flew across the room. I try to get hold of him to apologize, but he leaves for several hours, brewing up a good guilt trip. I think in a previous life he was a travel agent, because he sends me on some GOOD guilt trips.
********************
One thing I remember reading a while back, Motley, was someone lamenting the lack of a snooze button on a cat. It sounds like Bu could use one as much as my three monsters. I think Bu is making sure he can boast to all of his kitty friends about how well he has you trained…
originally posted by Blue
Monday, November 27, 2006, we were treated to the first really nasty snow storm in quite a while here in the Pacific Northwest. Complete with thunder and lightning.
I hesitate to use the word "blizzard" but it was as close as we come here in the Puget Sound region to that very phenomenon. Namely, because the flash of the lightning and the roll of thunder were virtually on top of one another, meaning that the storm was VERY close to us.
Wouldn't you know, when the thunder started, so did the howling? Camas is infamous around here, because of our cats, he has the biggest mouth, and is usually responsible for most of the racket. How so much noise can come from one small body is a mystery I would like solved. At least, the mystery of where his volume control is hidden.
However, the quality of the squalling coming from Chet's room was rather different.
It was Stormy, not Camas, howling with fright.
I believe I have mentioned that Stormy received his name for the color of his fur and his ferocity, right?
Every time we have a thunderstorm, which is fairly rare in this area, he FREAKS out, big time. I have to let him out of Chet's room so he can jump up on my bed and hide under the covers. I make comments about what a pussy he is being, and he just looks at me as if to say, "So?"
Since I shut down my computer and just about everything else during a thunderstorm, I usually climb into bed myself, and cuddle the big fraidy cat. It is not just a ploy for attention, he is genuinely afraid of the thunder. One memorable storm, a few months ago, I had Stormy in my room, as usual, but he decided that he did not want to stay here. I had the bedroom door shut so that he could not get out into the rest of the apartment to cause trouble. So he would jump down, go to the door and meow to be let out. I would see a flash of lightning, and the roll of thunder would send him flying back up to the bed, to duck and cover. It was pretty funny, because he kept that up for about 45 minutes. Get his fill of cuddle and comfort, go to the door and meow to be let out, then come flying back onto my bed to dive under the covers with the next roll of thunder. In the likely words of my Southern kin, "The silly varmint done tuckered hisself out!"
Monday night's storm had him deciding he was just going to jump up on me and hang on for dear life. Fortunately for his peace of mind, I do have his favorite throw on the bed, so I just wrapped him up in it, and occasionally reached into said throw to pet him, and talk to him, to make sure he knew that everything would be okay.
originally posted by Sarah Shoniker
The weather here on the West Coast has been a bit rough the last week, that's for sure! This is my first winter in Victoria, BC and I was very excited to see the snow… and so was my cat! She sat at the window for 3 days watching it fall! I moved from the North where it's unusual if we don't have snow for Halloween and Tsitika, my darling feline, has spent her life out in the snow, doing whatever cats will do in the great outdoors. I'm sure she was pinning away with me at the fact that we weren't allowed to go out and play in the snow (I was studying and since we live on a very busy street downtown, Tsitika's resigned her domain to the indoors only… which she does with much optimism, of course!). But now the snow is melting away and it's back to the rain once again, so instead of being glued to the window, she's back to following me about the house, scratching the furniture, and just being her wonderful, annoying kittie-self once again! Must say, I am beginning to miss the snow…
originally posted by Jay_Jay
This is freakin' hilarious!
From the Shiloh Shepherd forums:
Read first, then click on link below!!!
Jennifer and Luke kept getting huge water bills. They knew beyond a
doubt that the bills weren't representative of their actual usage, and no
matter how they tried to conserve, the high bills continued. Although they
could see nothing wrong, they had everything checked for leaks or problems:
first the water meter, then outdoor pipes, indoor pipes, underground pipes,
faucets, toilets, washer, ice maker, etc. – all to no avail.
One day Jim was sick and stayed home in bed, but kept hearing water running
downstairs. He finally tore himself from his sick bed to investigate, and
stumbled onto the cause of such high water bills. Apparently this was happening all
day long when they were not at home. Knowing that few would believe him,
he taped a segment of the 'problem' for posterity – see link below.
http://www.venango.com/Ralph/waterleakproblem.wmv
originally posted by Trys
LOL!!!
Two immediate thoughts:
1) Now that's an addiction!
2) This is why you should always put the lid down.
Trys
originally posted by Blue
Chet has to do the same thing, because Sunday the Hutt finds the motion of the water INTENSELY interesting. Poor girl does not get out enough, I guess.
originally posted by Jay_Jay
I have to keep the bathroom door closed, because Shadow thinks the bathtub is a great place to pee. But if I DO happen to forget, and he hears the toilet flush, he does the same thing: stares at the water in fascination. He also goes fishing in the bowl, and has been known to fish out bits of toilet paper…ANOTHER good reason for keeping the door closed!
originally posted by Blue
Well, add another thing to the lengthening list of things that Stormy is afraid of… this time, it's the toaster.
Yes, my big, bad, "macho" kitty is afraid of an appliance.
I have to eat something before I can take my medication, and a week ago, I decided on toast. It was early in the morning, and Chet was sacked out in his recliner, about 10 feet away from the kitchen.
Naturally, every time I get into that slot of a kitchen, Stormy follows me, expecting that I am going to pop some microwave popcorn. He doesn't want to miss a morsel, that cat.
Sitting in a wheelchair, trying to navigate a slot is difficult, which is multiplied by a factor of at least five when you have a cat squalling for scraps. I kept telling him to shut up, since Chet had been having trouble sleeping.
I finally got the bread into the toaster, and the world class whining started. I kept shushing him, and he kept up the squalling. He also has a tendency to stand on his hind paws, and bat me with his fronts, and head butt me.
Keeping up a steady stream of "Shut up!" and "Git!" did not convince him.
Finally, he was stretched to his ultimate, with his front paws on my right shoulder, pawing at my ear, and reminding me that he was still there, and still hungry.
At that moment in time, the toaster popped up, since the bread was done.
This had the effect of badly startling Stormy, and he did this acrobatic, jump, twist and flip maneuver that had to be seen to be believed. All he was missing was the blue tights with the big red S on them, and he could have been Superkitty.
He left me to my toast in peace! Would not show his face for a couple of hours, hiding out in the spare room under the bed, would be my guess.
I told Chet about it some hours later when he finally woke up, and he got a good laugh out of it.
He believed me, so the demonstration a couple of days later was unnecessary, but still pretty funny. I was in the kitchen again, making toast, and Stormy was sprawled out in Chet's lap, getting scritched. When the toast popped up, I heard Chet start cackling. Apparently, Stormy went from complete sprawl to upright and alert as though he had just received a live charge when the toaster went off. Chet said he looked to the kitchen with his eyes just about bugging out; Chet had to spend about the next fifteen minutes petting him to calm him down.
originally posted by DarthJazy
My new cat is on crack i swear to god that thing is so hyper
originally posted by Blue
How old is your new cat, DarthJazy? Do you give it catnip? Those are two possible explanations for its behavior. It might also be frantically trying to signal the mothership, too.
originally posted by Dorothy
And is it a tortoiseshell? It took years for our tortoiseshell cat to settle down. She still has her mad moments especially in summer. We see her only when it's raining or catch glimpses of her in the undergrowth(we are not very good gardeners). She sneaks in for food. In the winter she's glued to our laps!
originally posted by DarthJazy
shes a mut and maybe 3 or 4 months old and still 0n crack i gotta find her supplier lol
originally posted by Blue
THAT explains it, DarthJazy. At that age, no matter what breed, a kitten is little more than an amphetemine with fur and four legs. If you could ever figure out how to bottle that energy, you would never have to work another day in your life.
originally posted by DarthJazy
the cat has a sibling that lives with my exwife and my son man handles that cat it is so docile but our cat jesus i about punted it throught the door last night
originally posted by motley
My dear little companion Bailey, a silver grey, kitten faced, giant bodied male cat, has been hauling himself up by his claws, onto our roof. He uses our wooden windows, and was regularly seen to be hanging off his front paws, back legs scrabbling in mid air. By the time you'd gotten over to rescue him, he'd pulled himself up.
Last week he had a small op to removed traumatised tissue in his nailbed, after antibiotics hadn't done anything.
He now walks down the corridor, one leg wrapped in bandage, slipping on the terracotta tiles with each step. He bears the ignomy with great dignity, or failing that, with very undignified tummy rubs.
But the funniest thing is that every four or so steps, the leg shoots out and vibrates for about 2 seconds. So it goes… sh… sh… sh… vrrrrp… sh… sh… sh… vrrrrp…
I feel: poor thing, and then my husband and I can't help grinning.