those crazy pet stories

[olive bleu]

I have been enjoying some stories posted today in another thread about cats walking on faces and screaming in the night.There is a great thread going already with pictures of all the animals in our lives,but i would love to hear some more crazy pet stories.Does your beloved pet have some strange habit or behavior that you can share? or is there a story that you love to tell again and again?

 

[dakotanorth]

Crazy Pets?

My mom has a pug that seems to memorize TV commercials with dogs in them- you'll be watching TV, then all of a sudden Daisy will come running from nowhere and just sit in front of the TV... sure enough, a dog appears in it.
This is the same dog that jumped into a minor dog fight to DEFEND my mother's other dog, Lilly. Two pugs against a British Bulldog.

 

[wedding belle]

Oh Olive

my little bundle of madness could keep us going for weeks. I mentioned in another thread that my cat doesn't like the winter, what I didn't mention is that she sits under our 2 bulb tiffany lamp (right under it with her head up the shade) and "suns" herself during those cold and dark days. Oh and she won't walk on floors when it's cold either.

In her defence she's always been a bit "out there" and I only ended up with her because no one else would home her (she's a rescue cat). Now that she's old (16) she has simply lost what there was left of her mind, and turned into a very cantankerous old lady!

 

[Girl Friday]

Call a locksmith!

My dog Chloe locked me out of my car...with the keys in it.

I had stopped to get gas on the way to visit my folks, with pay at the pump there's no need to take your keys out. Well now there is, if your dog is in the car.

 

[Bebop]

I have two dogs. A 3 year old black German Shepherd female that I have owned since she was born and a white Bull Terrier male that "found" me a couple of months ago. I saw him running in circles at an intersection while people chased him around. He was darting under cars and even scaring some people walking down the street. On a whim, I stopped, leaned over, opened the passenger door of my truck and whistled. He hopped right in as if he had been doing it for years. He sat there face forward as if saying, "ok, now lets go". I pulled over thinking his owner was one of the people that had been chasing him but no one knew where he came from.

After placing ads in the papers and checking animal shelters to see if anyone lost an unaltered, gorgeous 85 lb. Bull Terrier that looks like a show dog by the way he can be posed (stacked) and how he behaves, I decided I would keep him. I still keep an eye out for anyone that lost a Bull Terrier because you can tell he was well loved and I put myself in the prior owners place. My nephew named him Chalko. I can live with that. He seems to be about 2 or so and gets along with everything and everyone. His one strange habit that I am still working on breaking him of is that whenever anyone, anywhere, at any time opens a car door, he dives into the car and poses just as he did in my truck that first time. All these people had to do to catch this dog would have been open a car door. :eusa_doh: I feel lucky that I was the only one to do so a couple of months ago. He's a keeper.

 

[Bebop]

...with pay at the pump there's no need to take your keys out. Well now there is, if your dog is in the car.

You also don't want anyone jumping in your car and driving off while you pump gas!

 

[fatwoul]

My cat has at least five or six different, distinguishable meows, each one meaning a very different thing.

She has one meow which she uses to say hello. It is actually a two syllable meow, the second shorter than the first, rather like the word "hello" itself. She only ever does this meow when first entering a room with new people in, or when she has come in from outside. How cold it is outside dictates how loud and insistent this greeting is.

If another family member does this meow at her, she answers with another meow that, again, she only does in response to this.

She then has a very prolonged meow to wake people up at 3am, when her feet are cold.

Next there is a short , restless-sounding meow, when she is bored and wants to play. It's a huffy sort of noise.

Obviously there is a meow requesting food.

Recently, as she has got older and her joints are not what they once were, she has adopted a new meow to indicate when we need to stop playing. That one is a grumpy, old person meow, and usually happens shortly before she bites me.

She also does strange little chirpy bird impressions when she is focussed on a bird, or a nest. Those are very creepy to watch.

 

[olive bleu]

my cat Bobby, is absolutely mad about strawberry yogurt. he does not get people food as a rule and we have never offered him yogurt.But within seconds of opening a container of strawberry yogurt he is after you.He will take whatever path necessary to get to your face.I have been seated comfortably in a chair eating strawberry yogurt and he will climb on my lap,and try to put his face right into the container, if i move my hand away, he will put his nose up to my face and sniff my lips.He gets this really crazed look of desperation. Moving to another chair is no good .He will follow you relentlessly.

We have no idea why he does this. we got him from our vet as a stray.we think he was probably fed this at his previous home.His other great love is potato chips.

 

[Ms. McGraw]

This is kind of gross, but kind of funny. If my dog Misha is feeling ill she'll go right into the restroom and throw up in the potty. It's great! I never have to scrub that out of my carpet! I trained her buy just walking her into the restroom when I knew she was going to be ill and after a while she just started doing it all on her own. Now if only I could teach her not to take her half of the bed out of the middle....[huh]

 

[olive bleu]

That is the best...can you come over and teach my cat to do that with hairballs???lol

 

[Miss Crisplock]

That has to be the most useful pet trick ever!

 

[Samsa]

I was at my girlfriend's apartment the other night, and we were just lying there talking, when all of the sudden I felt something very warm on my back. One of her cats was peeing on me. Luckily I had a change of clothes with me.

This morning I awoke to find that the thing had successfully removed the insole from one of my shoes.

He's having behavioral issues as he has not yet been fixed. That operation will be done soon, and as far as I'm concerned it can't come soon enough!

 

[missmelly]

When I was growing up, my family had a retarded cat...really. He wasn't breathing when he was born and his mother (also our cat) pushed him to one side to deliver the other kitties. My mom did mini CPR on him and he survived. He was the only cat from the litter we kept. His name was Mellow. Mellow's body permanently kept his claws out and he would always get them caught in the burber carpet when he was walking and fall flat on his face. Once he went up the stairs, it would only be a matter of time before he would poke his head through the rail and meow for one of us to come get him because he couldn't remember how to get back down the stairs. The neighborhood dogs (big dogs) would leave him alone either because they sensed something wrong with him or it wasn't fun when the cat you were trying to chase just sat there and then innocently looked up and noticed the herd of Great Danes and Newfoundlands running towards him; kind of like Ferdinand the Bull smelling the flowers.
When we picked Mellow up and held him then set him back down on the ground, you needed to nudge him a little bit to make him aware he was back on the ground and to get him going, otherwise, he'd stand in the same spot just looking around for about 10 minutes.
The best story though about Mellow, was when he decided to climb a tree one day. A 75 foot tree...
Of course, once he was up it he couldn't figure out how to get down. We opened cans of cat food and placed it on the bottom in hopes that he'd get a clue. Hours went by and it's late afternoon. Mellow's mother is pacing the bottom of the tree and frantic. Mellow has now climbed higher up into the tree and is screeching every few seconds for help. My mom finally breaks down and decides to call in the fire department. She tells them her cat's in a tree; they ask how long has it been up the tree; my mom says 5 hours; the fireman laughs for a minute then says they can't come out until 24 hours have passed. My mom tries to explain that the cat is retarded which creates another round of laughter. "Alright, if the cat isn't out of the tree by early morning, call us and we'll bring the big hook-and-ladder around."
Next morning, Mellow has made it even higher up into the tree. By now, our whole neighborhood has heard his crying...yeah, we were popular. So my mom calls the fire dept up again. "Are you the lady with the retarded cat?"
"Yes." peeped my mom.
Another round of laughter and then confirmation that they were dispatching a small crew.
An hour later, my mom greets a trio of firemen in the front yard. Of all the trees we had on our property, Mellow has chosen the tallest and the firemen, in unison; direct their gazes up to the white cat screeching like it's going out of style. They have a group huddle to decide which of them was going to climb up the ladder to get the beast. Finally, the rookie was selected. The ladder was raised into place and up goes the rookie. The other two guys stay near the bottom and keep up a chorus of chuckling as their comrade hikes up the rungs. Finally, the rookie makes it to where Mellow is and reaches out for him. Remember that Mellow keeps his claws out so now he is clawing at the rookie who is just wearing a t-shirt. "Sh*ts!" and "Damns!" are heard from the top of the ladder and the rookies buddies below have now broken out into hearty laughing. Mellow has also not realized that he could have gone to the bathroom while up in the tree unleashed a golden stream that had been stored up for 18 hours. The shower rains down below and the other guys, now cracking up are getting out from under the blast zone. More "Sh*ts!" and "Damns!" (among others) are heard as the rookie tries to climb back down the ladder while a scratching insane peeing monster cat is trying to free himself from the rookies grip.
Finally, the rookie makes it to the bottom still holding onto Mellow and starts to walk across the yard to hand him off to my mom who is practically in tears she's so embarrassed. The rookie takes 2 steps and hiding under a pile of leaves is a fresh pile of dog do that one of the neighbor’s mammoth dogs had delivered earlier. He steps right into it and does a graceful slide forward and ultimately ends up kneeling into the dog pile. His friends are lying in our driveway in tears of joy. The rookie gets back up and practically throws Mellow at my mom who is beside herself as she tries to offer the rookie a towel. The rookie mumbles that he's fine and heads back to the truck to hide in the cab and die, I think. His buddies though, head him off and tell him he can't get into the front cab smelling like he did. They ostracized him to the tiny cab that drives the ladder behind.
My mom has thanked the rookie and others about 5 bazillion times now and they are getting ready to leave. Our block was this loop and they couldn't back out to leave our neighborhood but had to go up the hill and go around the loop road and then come back down the hill passing our house. So the 2 guys get up front and the sour rookie is driving the ladder in back and a minute later when they come back by, my mom is waving from the driveway at them and as they slow down to turn the corner, my mom is saluted by the 2 guys in front and as the back the truck passes by my waving mom, the rookie shouts out, "Next time, shoot the DAMN thing out of the tree!!!"
I swear to you all that this story is very much true and it has become a legend, I'm sure, to the Spokane fire department.
RIP Mellow, RIP.
.:Miss Melly:.

 

[Barry]

When I was growing up one of my neighbors had three dogs. He adopted each one from the pound. Sometimes I would play fetch with the dogs. One day I was watching two of the dogs play in his fenced-in backyard. The larger dog started nipping at the other dog's neck while they were running around close to one another. I watched them do this for about 10 minutes and then all of the sudden the dog that was nipping started running towards me with the other dog's leather collar in his mouth.

 

[KilroyCD]

When I was growing up, my family had a retarded cat...really. He wasn't breathing when he was born and his mother (also our cat) pushed him to one side to deliver the other kitties. My mom did mini CPR on him and he survived. He was the only cat from the litter we kept. His name was Mellow. Mellow's body permanantly kept his claws out and he would always get them caught in the burber carpet when he was walking and fall flat on his face. Once he went up the stairs, it would only be a matter of time before he would poke his head throw the rail and meow for one of us to come get him because he couldn't remember how to get back down the stairs. The neighborhood dogs (big dogs) would leave him alone either because they sensed something wrong with him or it was fun when the cat you were trying to chase just sat there and then innocently looked up and noticed the herd of Great Danes and Newfoundlands running towards him; kind of like Ferdinand the Bull smelling the flowers.
When we picked Mellow up and held him then set him back down on the the ground, you needed to nudge him a little bit to make him aware he was back on the ground and to get him going, otherwise, he'd stand in the same spot just looking around for about 10 minutes.
The best story though about Mellow, was when he decided to climb a tree one day. A 75 foot tree...
Of course, once he was up it he couldn't figure out how to get down. We opened cans of cat food and placed it on the bottom in hopes that he'd get a clue. Hours went by and it's late afternoon. Mellow's mother is pacing the bottom of the tree and frantic. Mellow has now climbed higher up into the tree and is screeching ever few seconds for help. My mom finally breaks down and decides to call in the fire department. She tells them her cat's in a tree; they ask how long has it been up the tree; my mom says 5 hours; the fireman laughs for a minute then says they can't come out until 24 hours have passed. My mom tries to explain that the cat is retarded which creates another round of laughter. "Alright, if the cat isn't out of the tree by early morning, call us and we'll bring the big hook-and-ladder around."
Next morning, Mellow has made it even higher up into the tree. By now, our whole neighborhood has heard his crying...yeah, we were popular. So my mom calls the fire dept up again. "Are you the lady with the retarded cat?"
"Yes." peeped my mom.
Another round of laughter and then confirmation that they were dispatching a small crew.
An hour later, my mom greets a trio of firemen in the front yard. Of all the trees we had on our property, Mellow has chosen the tallest and the firemen, in unison, direct their gazes up to the white cat screeching like it's going out of style. They have a group huddle to decide which of them was going to climb up the ladder to get the beast. Finally, the rookie was selected. The ladder was raised into place and up goes the rookie. The other two guys stay near the bottom and keep up a chorus of chuckling as their comrade hikes up the rungs. Finally, the rookie makes it to where Mellow is and reaches out for him. Remember that Mellow keeps his claws out so now he is clawing at the rookie who is just wearing a t-shirt. "Sh*ts!" and "Damns!" are heard from the top of the ladder and the rookies buddies below have now broken out into hearty laughing. Mellow has also not realized that he could have gone to the bathroom while up in the tree unleashed a golden stream that had been stored up for 18 hours. The shower rains down below and the other guys, now cracking up are getting out from under the blast zone. More "Sh*ts!" and "Damns!" (among others) are heard as the rookie tries to climb back down the ladder while a scratching insane peeing monster cat is trying to free himself from the rookies grip.
Finally, the rookie makes it to the bottom still holding onto Mellow and starts to walk across the yard to hand him off to my mom who is practically in tears she's so embarrased. The rookie takes 2 steps and hiding under a pile of leaves is a fresh pile of dog do that one of the neighbors mammoth dogs had delivered earlier. He steps right into it and does a graceful slide forward and ultimately ends up kneeling into the dog pile. His friends are laying in our driveway in tears of joy. The rookie gets back up and and practically throws Mellow at my mom who is beside herself as she tries to offer the rookie a towel. The rookie mumbles that he's fine and heads back to the truck to hide in the cab and die, I think. His buddies though, head him off and tell him he can't get into the front cab smelling like he did. They ostracized him to the tiny cab that drives the ladder behind.
My mom has thanked the rookie and others about 5 bazillion times now and they are getting ready to leave. Our block was this loop and they couldn't back out to leave our neighborhood but had to go up the hill and go around the loop road and then come back down the hill passing our house. So the 2 guys get up front and the sour rookie is driving the ladder in back and a minute later when they come back by, my mom is waving from the driveway at them and as they slow down to turn the corner, my mom is saluted by the 2 guys in front and as the back the truck passes by my waving mom, the rookie shouts out, "Next time, shoot the DAMN thing out of the tree!!!"
I swear to you all that this story is very much true and it has become a legend, I'm sure, to the Spokane fire department.
RIP Mellow, RIP.
.:Miss Melly:.

OMG! I can't breathe! ROFLMOA I haven't read anything so funny in a long time! The "theatre of the mind" was going full-tilt as I was reading this, and I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe! Teriffic story! lol lol lol lol :eusa_clap :eusa_clap:eusa_clap :eusa_clap

 

[missmelly]

OMG! I can't breathe! ROFLMOA I haven't read anything so funny in a long time! The "theatre of the mind" was going full-tilt as I was reading this, and I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe! Teriffic story! lol lol lol lol :eusa_clap :eusa_clap:eusa_clap :eusa_clap

I'm glad Mellow had a chance to resurface. It's been a long while since I've told the story and though it makes people laugh, nobody believes it. I'll have to dig up a Mellow photo. I agree that the only way to hear this story is through the magic of the "theatre of the mind". I still remember it like it was yesterday and I was only about 10 back then.
.:Miss Melly:.

 

[olive bleu]

:eusa_clap
That is FABULOUS!! Thank you so much for taking the time to tell this great story.

 

[MrNewportCustom]

John Doe and Jane Doe . . . But Mostly Jane Doe

That is an amazing(ly) funny story, Miss Melly! I'm still laughing! lol


I have a bunch of stories from the annals of my late pair of furmonsters, John Doe and Jane Doe. (They were so named because I'd found them both in the yard. Neither had ID nor would they tell me their names.)

I found Jane in the middle of December, 1990. She was looking at me through a hole at the bottom of the fence while I was working on the old Corolla. I looked at her and the little gray-and-black puffball bounded over to me. I picked her up and she fit in the palm of my hand. I looked into her big gold-green eyes and asked, "Who are you?" Then I turned her around, raised her tail, turned her back again and said, "I'll call you 'Jane.'"

Six months later, a black and orange(ish) tabby had Jane running from window to door like a lady gone mad. The next day, the landlord’s father came by and the cat started rubbing against his leg. Ron asked, "Who's this?" I told him the cat had been hanging around for a day or two, and he told me he'd pay to have him fixed if I'd adopt him. I did both, but never asked Ron to pay me for the operation.

John Doe and Jane Doe were both gray tabbies with gold-green eyes, but they were complete opposites in every other way: Jane was a firebrand; small, spunky, grouchy, short-haired, very active, and she had eyes that showed you an intelligence well beyond her species. John was a gentle soul; a big, slow-moving sweetheart of a fluff ball who was always so out to lunch, with a purr that could be heard over the phone and a tail that once inspired a friend to ask if his mother had been raped by a squirrel. John's nickname was, "Bubbie." Jane often had to answer to Witchiepoo, but always slightly mispronounced (with a "B" where the "W" should be). I never once heard Jane purr, but she never missed the litter box. John purred constantly, which made cleaning up after him a little less disgusting.

I could hold Jane for about ten seconds before she had to leave - usually in a huff - but she'd lick the back of the neck of anyone visiting. John, on the other hand, would hide whenever anyone came over, but was by my side the rest of the time. Yet, if Jane's temper got her to the point of growling, hissing and generally trying to perforate me, John would intervene and put her in her place - he was my protector. John and Jane were the best of friends for the thirteen-and-a-half years I had them both, with Jane living to fourteen and John to fifteen years of age.

For the first ten years that we spent together, we lived in a converted garage with a 14 foot vaulted ceiling and rafters. Jane loved to jump from the floor to the kitchen counter to the top of the small fridge to the pantry and finally onto a first of the four rafters, and then leap her way across the room. How she managed to not get conked by the constantly-spinning ceiling fan, I'll never know. I have pictures of her in mid-flight.

One evening, while I was watching TV, I heard on odd sound above and behind me. I look up and there was Jane, head and paws hanging over one side of a rafter, playing with her own tail hanging over the other side. She looked back at me. I shook my head and told her, "Jane, one of these days you're going to fall off of there." I turned back to my TV show and, with perfect comedic timing, heard a cat-like thud on the kitchen floor. Sure enough, there was Jane sitting on the cold, white tile licking her paw as if to say, "I meant to do that."

An earthquake once hit a 4:31 in the morning. Jane spent hours wandering around the house, very low to the ground, ears at full-alert and eyes very much larger than usual. John was completely unaffected by the seismic activity, laying beside me on his back, purring and earning himself yet another nickname, "The Brainless Wonder."

Jane learned not to steal food from my plate. After a couple years of tapping her betwixt the ears and scolding her if she reached for my dinner, she learned that patience truly was a virtue. I could be eating a steak, and Jane would sit about three and three-quarter inches from my plate, watching my every move: side-to-side for the knife, up-and-down for the fork. When I was finished eating, I'd sit back and look at her. She'd continue staring at the smears of grease and A1 sauce (as well as small tidbits of meat I'd leave for her) that remained on the plate. I'd then push it toward her and say, "Okey." At which point she knew it was her turn at the plate. John wouldn't touch table scraps; he ate only cat food. (Oddly, neither liked cat treats, but both went absolutely over the edge for a certain DOG treat!)

Jane also went bonkers for chocolate. I knew that chocolate could be deadly for her, but on extremely rare occasions I'd break the very tip off of a Hershey's Kiss and give it to her. Naturally, her favorite toy was a foil ball made from Hershey's Kisses wrappers.

Jane also liked to drink from any running faucet. I can't tell you how many times I'd turned the shower on to a single stream and watched Jane drink the falling water, catching it with her tongue and sneezing out any water that got in her nose. And when she was done, she'd come out of the bathroom absolutely soaked from chin to belly, droplets falling from her whiskers. But she was happy. Ice was another favorite source of water for her.

I think it was because of her drinking habits that I could actually bathe her. But I had to be careful: no sink baths for this cat. To bathe her, I'd take her into the shower with me, and as long as I held her close to my chest, I could soak, soap and rinse her without a sound or movement. The worst I ever got was a worried look from her gold-green eyes. John was the opposite: I couldn't pour a glass of water without him running for the nearest closet.

Speaking of closets, Jane liked to play hide and seek. I had a job that would keep me away for a few days at a time, and each time I got home I'd wander the house calling her name. I'd always find her in a different location - on a high closet shelf, in a corner on the bedroom floor, behind the toilet, in the back of a cabinet, beside the TV, under the desk, in a box, etc.

Watching Jane open a cabinet or drawer was hilarious. She'd stand up, place her paws on the door or drawer she wanted open and, if it was a lower drawer or a door, walk backward until it was open. If it was a top drawer, she'd hang from the top of it and push off from a lower one. I once found her in a cabinet above the kitchen counter, door closed, neatly ensconced behind the dinner plates. I still can't figure out how she opened that one, because she couldn't reach the top.

John was afraid of heights. He'd chase Jane around the place, and she'd end their game by bouncing off the kitchen counter and jumping up onto the bookcase next to the bathroom. If I helped John catch her by putting him up there with her, he'd get scared and I'd have to personally lower him to the floor. He wouldn't jump down on his own.

Like all cats, Jane loved to sit on paper - ANY piece of paper. One evening, after attending a car show, I dropped what remained of a raffle ticket onto the bed, and then left the room. You know the kind; one inch by two inches. Upon my return, there was Jane in the sitting position that's typical for cats, looking up at me, content as can be, with half of the half-of-a-ticket sticking out from under her front paws.

And in a cabinet/paper story combination, I once came home and instantly knew that Jane had opened a drawer in the bathroom. How did I know? My apartment was in the midst of a toilet paper snow storm and I had no provision for hanging a roll next to the toilet. While I was gone for a few days, she'd pulled out and completely destroyed three rolls and taken several bites out of half a dozen others that were still in the drawer.

Jane also liked to play catch. I'd toss a wadded up piece of paper over her head, and she'd jump for it - sometimes two or more feet into the air - swatting it deep under the sofa or even back to me. She'd do that for twenty minutes, sometimes.

John Doe and Jane Doe both knew that they were indoor cats. On numerous occasions, they'd stare out through the open door waiting for the right moment to sneak away and go exploring. I, in turn, would be watching them. When one would go out, they'd go very slowly. Fortunately for me, they were more intent on seeing and listening for what was out in the yard than for what - or rather, who - was sneaking up from behind them. ME! I pick the errant cat up and send it on a high-speed, low-altitude, reverse trajectory flight right back into the house. After a while, they learned to stay inside, even with the door wide open. Several people were surprised at their staying power against the temptation of an open door to a well-groomed backyard wilderness. It got to the point where, if one started sneaking out, I'd just call out the wandering cat's name and it would return itself to an upright, seated position, and to enjoying the movie.

I wish, to this day, that I'd had the presence of mind to have kept their ashes after they'd died. I can visualize it now, as I have on many occasions; side-by-side, on a bookcase shelf, two small brass urns: "John Doe" engraved onto one, and "Jane Doe" on the other.

I still miss those two.


Lee

 

[Edward]

I was at my girlfriend's apartment the other night, and we were just lying there talking, when all of the sudden I felt something very warm on my back. One of her cats was peeing on me. Luckily I had a change of clothes with me.

This morning I awoke to find that the thing had successfully removed the insole from one of my shoes.

He's having behavioral issues as he has not yet been fixed. That operation will be done soon, and as far as I'm concerned it can't come soon enough!

It should lessen things, anyhow. You got to remember, though, you're an intruder in his territory as he sees it (and even neutered toms can be extremely territorial), so there will be a battle for dominance. He's used to having all your lady's attention to himself - he doesn't like you taking it away from him! Buy him some catnip, get on his good side....

 

[Josephine]

My mother in law had a large dark brown cat speckled with lighter brown and some rust. Her name was Panda, but I called her Meatloaf (a la Kliban cat) as that's what she reminded me of. Whenever we would go visit we would always find her laying, feet tucked up under her, with her face firmly entrenched in my shoe. And it was only ever my shoe, not MIL or Hubby's or later, our kids.