Baddest cat

Kovu

ticklebelly7 wrote: »

Another Sock Fetish Cat, .Kovu? Could it be some sort of contagion ...

Does your lil beasty sit on the fridge and rip up all the important farming documents? Because if so, he's related to mine!!!!!

My lad is just 3 1/2 now but I am currently using my laptop in the kitchen......because he is sprawled across the three seater couch and won't move :pac:

It's not the first time I've found him locked into a press, Maybe he's agrophobic?

ticklebelly7

.Kovu. wrote: »

Does your lil beasty sit on the fridge and rip up all the important farming documents? Because if so, he's related to mine!!!!!

No, on top of the fridge we have the microwave which is a bit of a deterrent. And as for important farming docs, I'm afraid the closest I ever got to farming was when I grew three square strawberries (don't ask) in the window box... but he does hate the laundry basket. It's one of those cheapo pop-up ones you get from the Pound Shop, made of wire and white nylon mesh. He got in and kicked seven shades of ... socks outta that basket. It's now more like a collection of holes loosely held together by hope.

Lawliet

My family farm has had a lot of cats over the years, neutering wasn't seen as a necessary thing when I was a kid and between that and being a soft touch that would bring home every stray in the country, we must have had about 50 cats come through here over the years. So when I say George is the boldest cat we've ever had, that means something.

We found him abandoned at my brothers secondary school one night over 15 years ago, he was a lovely, charming big black and white Tom. We asked around and when no one claimed him by the end of the day we took him home. About a week later we found out why he'd been dumped. He was a cat burglar. He was suppose to be a strictly outdoor cat but he always found a way inside. We'd close all the windows at night but come morning he'd be in the best chair in front of the stove. I once left the skylight of my attic bedroom open the tinniest bit and woke up with him standing on my face at 4AM.
From the smallest crack to a slightly dodgy lock, windows were cake to him. So the fridge was barely a challenge. He'd knock over milk cartons, pull out blocks of cheese, tear apart packaging to get at ham, it was insane. We had to keep everything high up and in Tupperware.

As you can imagine my mother hated him. And he picked up on this dislike, he went out of his way to mark his territory in her bedroom and leave paw prints all over her car. Once she was dressed in her Sunday best for mass, and was yelling because she caught him sleeping on her freshly washed clothes. George just stood up, turned his arse to her, tail up, reversed in close and sprayed her with pee.

Whenever he pushed us too far he seemed to realise he was in trouble and disappeared for a few days. We never knew where he was going until our neighbours started complaining about some big black and white cat that would sneak in their houses and raid their food. He almost gave this old woman down the road a heart attack once by clawing his way in her window at 11 o'clock at night.

George was father to a litters of kittens while he was here, and he was the most involved father ever. When Brownie went into labour in my bedroom, George was by her side the entire time scowling at the top of his lungs like he was the one giving birth. Brownie didn't make a sound. Whenever Brownie left, George would sit in with the kittens, and while Brownie wanted to keep the kittens in the hay shed, George felt that a better place for them was under my bed. Those poor kittens got carried back and forth at least three times a day until they got too big for Georges liking.
Then George found something else to amuse himself, like harassing local hens, and we soon got reports that our neighbours eggs were being cracked open and eaten every morning.

The final straw came on Christmas eve, we'd been out doing some last minute shopping and were back after 6 o'clock when the shops had closed. We came into the kitchen and found that the window had been opened, the fridge door was ajar, the turkey was out in the middle of the floor half eaten. And George was on the chair in front of the stove looking smug and satisfied.
Mum freaked out and we didn't see George for a week. When he came back we took him to the vets who promised to rehome him and that was the last we heard from George.
I still wonder what happened to him, and I would give anything to find out where the hell he came that he got such mad breaking and entering skills.

ticklebelly7

All hail King George! What a cat. Clearly he was James Bond in a previous life what with the breaking and entering skills and the prowess with the ladies. Weeing on your poor mother was a tinge bold, I will admit, but the panache with which he showed his contempt was pure James... I wonder if Daniel Craig could be prevailed upon to incorporate something like that into his next film.

I love George.

DEFTLEFTHAND

That cat is a furry wiseguy, black ball of wool as you say, as small as a sock.

I love the way such a tiny beast can dictate a household.

ticklebelly7

Well it's behaving itself the last few days. Must be the cold weather. I have this straw cat basket thing - it's an igloo on the bottom and a basket on the top. Himself and the Red Cat are now cohabiting, Monster in the igloo and Big Red in the basket - in front of the radiator. They are very happy together and I foresee a Civil Partnership ceremony sometime soon ...

Was telling my friends about the Badness of the Mitten and they were explaining that their cat, who is normally very well-behaved when I go round, is actually a beast and a teef in reality. The Man of the House came home one evening to find that Teefy the Cat had got up and et the tuna filling out of his baked potato, leaving him with a very paltry tea. The Woman of the House didn't take this as a warning, and a few days later, left out plates with tuna steaks on the kitchen table, unguarded. Son's tuna steak was found under the bed, partly chewed and covered in fluff. As per Cat Teefing Protocol, Woman of the House rinsed it off and hid the worst of the bite marks under some salad so Son knew nothing about his dinner's close escape.

This cat has a magnetic collar to let it in and out of their fancy cat flap yoke. They often find it strolling round with a yoghurt pot stuck to the magnet by the foil lid, or the occasional tea spoon. Best of all is when it tries to jump up onto the window ledge and its collar sticks to the radiator!!

But their cat pales into insignificance by comparison with another of their friend's cats. Said friend was minding his own business one Sunday morning when he heard a terrific racket coming from the kitchen. He went in to find his cat trying to wrestle a whole roast chicken through the cat flap. Can you imagine the scene in the Chicken Owner's house though: But I only put it on the plate to cool, it was there a minute ago ...