UKC

Hey! this is about furry little animals OK. Dirty-minded b*ggers.
A few years ago whilst sat on the the back step at work having a tab (smoke, not acid) here in (not) sunny Melbourne on a day when it was pishing it down and freezing cold I noticed movement across the back alley - at the gap beneath the roller door to a derelict adjacent building. Squinting, I noticed a big black cat paw pushing this little kitten out. Obviously the runt and not wanted. The poor little thing was getting drenched and was shivering and meowing so I went and grabbed it to take home. The fact that the ungrateful little bstrd sunk its fangs into my finger was forgiven. Turned in to The Most Gorgeous little cat and after I'd paid for the de-sex and shots found a home where she snuggled up in front of central heating and purred and got fed and watered - then curled up again and purred some more.
Two minutes later and I'd've never have seen that paw push the kitty out into the rain.
Nice huh?
Over to you for nice animal tales ...

In reply to AP Melbourne:

There is a street cat I often pass on my walk into town or back. She is always pleased to see me and comes running up to be stroked and rubs against my leg. It's got nothing to do with food because I've never fed her, but seems like genuine friendliness. It always brightens up my day even if I'm feeling a bit fed up.

In reply to Trangia:


http://www.cracked.com/article/226_6-adorable-cat-behaviors-with-shockingly...

In reply to Jim C:

You rotter! I thought I had at last found true unconditional love........

In reply to AP Melbourne:

Bloody mercenary exploitative creatures, cats.

I heard a plaintive mewling in a ditch while out walking. I looked through the hedge-bottom and saw a bedraggled black-and-white cat. It followed me home. Five years later it's still here - fat, smug, and graceless. That's because it knows how to butter up my missus - left to me it would be packing its case. Bastard.

In reply to Trangia:


youtube.com/watch?v=aP3gzee1cps&

Evidence if any were needed that cats are sneaky and 'plotting something'.

In reply to Timmd:


The downfall of society? Wouldn't put it past the buggers

In reply to Trangia:

Thanks Trangia,
Unconditional love from a feline is a fairly rare yet beautiful thing - when it happens; 'Meow', 'miiilk' if not they b*gger off to the neighbour's. Fickle little things eh? My dearly-departed Shadow who was literally born into the palm of my hand went nuts over pizza. Slept with me for over fifteen years and purred so loudly with front leg/arm wrapped around my neck. Wet, pink nose and long white whiskers (her not me) and wouldn't leave my side.
On more than one occasion I've woken up having passed out on the floor only to have her sitting on my chest paw-tapping my face and 'kissing' me. Brought me back around and I go 'Giz a hug & kiss Shadow' and she did. Then ran and stared at the fridge door going 'Miiiiiiiilk'
Am sure she loved me really ... Females!

In reply to AP Melbourne:

I have never been an animal person, but since spending time in Kalymnos and the Ariege and coming into close contact with cats I have become a bit of a softie towards them - must be getting old. We always foster one or two (or sometimes more) wherever we end up stopping:

http://www.pbase.com/image/163791693/original

Chris

In reply to Chris Craggs:

Hi Chris old bean,
Cats, puppy dogs, far more genuine than any human being ... unless I'm mixing in the wrong circles?
For the two of you who bought my book (thanks) I describe an 'ex bird' in the Troopers Arms chapter don't I?. A sorry tale that still rather upsets me.
I really should go to bed now ...
Nighty night.
AP.

In reply to AP Melbourne:

Long story from the archives Part 1

We had decided to do our weekly shopping at a different location, just to make it slightly less tedious. B. (my daughter) who was 8 at the time didn’t want to come in the shops with us, so we left her outside on the swings and slides to entertain herself. We left her outside, and went into Woolies and did our shopping. After a half hour of friendly bickering, we struggle around the supermarket cramming goodies into two hand-held baskets.

Outside we found B. looking very tearful, and playing with what looked like an overworked floor mop. "Oh ho, I don’t like the look of this." I thought.

I know, I give the impression of being a hard, callous, old bastard with a heart of flint, but really I’m a hard, callous, old bastard, with a heart of flint, except when it comes to animals, B., the wife and anyone with a sob story.

So what did B. do? She then proceeded to give us a sob story.

To be fair she was in tears, she told us a long drawn out tale of how her new friend had been scavenging in the bins, and was obviously lost and starving. She told us a tale that made "Little Orphan Annie" sound like an episode of "Fawlty Towers"; it was heartbreaking.

Not totally believable, but heart breaking. She told us how this starving dog had dragged its emaciated, fever ridden body across the car park and dropped at deaths door, at her feet, and how we were its only hope for salvation in this cruel world.

So we told her no, that it probably lived in the houses across the road from the shopping centre, and that some poor little grey-haired old lady would be missing it, pinning away into the long hours, and in no way were we thinking about the possibility of us taking it home.

It then followed us back to the car. To be fair it did look rather pathetic, it had no collar and was very emaciated. It had dreadlocks, was filthy, and had such a stupid look on its face that, I could feel my will to resist being drained from me. So I said to the Wife; "we can't leave it here, it's not in a fit state."

I did this in the sound knowledge that the Wife is far more practical than me, she has the ability, born of long practice, to resist B.’s doe-eyed imploring, and was in no way ever, ever, going to let us have another dog.

"Ok, sling it in the back." she said.

We got it home, and bathed it, cut off some of the matted and dreadlocked fur, and found the cutest dog in the world underneath. I mean severely cute, heartbreakingly cute, more cute than a big bag full of very cute things with added cuteness, cute. We also discovered that it was actually a girl, a girl who had had pups in the not distant past, and a girl who was back in heat.

It then proceeded to eat more dog food than Barnum (my then dog) eats in a week. The poor sod must have been starving.

Barnum however wasn't put out by this; quite the opposite. Barnum spent all his time trying to "hump it", as B., so delicately put it, and getting bitten for his troubles.

The dog then proceeded to weld itself to B., and slept on her bed that night, in the place normally reserved for Tiger our cat. It’s obviously a brave little sod, as anyone usurping Tigers place in her bed is in for a world of pain.
Ok, so I'm determined that we should get this dog notified with the RSPCA as a stray, and only keep it if no other owner is found. I get dirty looks off the two ladies in my life for even broaching the subject of getting shot of it. Such is life.

Such is my life actually.

Wife of course is numbero uno on animal welfare in our state. She writes the laws that pet owners have to adhere to. So as she was now getting rather fond of this little mutt, she was planning on bringing the full force of the law down on its previous owner, if such a person could be found, in no uncertain way.

So I then had the onerous task of taking the dog, who had by now acquired the name "Millie", to the local vet to see if she’d been chipped. Most dogs here have an electronic tag inserted subcutaneously, which can identify them and their owner. I was thinking; "If there's no chip, I guess we're stuck with her. If there is a chip, B. will never talk to me again."

In reply to AP Melbourne:

Part 2

There was no chip, much to my relief. But the vets, who to be fair gave her a good examination for free, did have a couple of dogs of roughly the same description reported to them as lost, so they took our phone details, phoned around the owners, and left messages. Oh dear….

The dog that most closely answered her description’s name was Alice, I tried calling her Alice, but no response. Barnum responded to it however, I think he thinks it suits him.

So that night we broke the good/bad news to B. We promised her that if no-one contacted us in couple of days there was little chance that she was one of those strays, and so we’d keep her.
We had no contact for three days, so we booked her into a dog groomer’s to get a proper shaving. I drove her there, and boy did she lose some fur. The dog groomer pointed out a lot of things that she needed doing, and did them as part of the service. She had problems with the fur between her pads, her ears, and her toenails were cripplingly long. She got the VIP treatment, and came out looking even more cute, if that were possible. The grooming lady put a scarf on her, and also one on Barnum, who’d been observing the proceedings with contempt. This perked him up no end, so he peed against her grooming table.

I took the pair of them off to one of the local nature reserves, and got some great shots of the two of them wearing their scarves.

I got home to get a call from the Wife saying the dogs owners had contacted her, and she was sure it was their dog.

I was, and I don’t mind admitting this, heartbroken. Poor old Wife then had the lovely task of telling B. she would have to give the dog up. I’m glad I was at work.

Wife also got told that there were four-week old puppies at home that were missing their mum, and a "husband" who had been off his food since she went missing. Oh great. (They had weaned the pups already. At four weeks?)

Wife checked with the head of the RSPCA if we could bring prosecution against them for cruelty. It was a borderline case, and the dog would have been impounded for up to a year while the case was heard, so it wasn’t in the interest of the dog for us to go ahead.

So Wife and B. took the dog back, and by all accounts it wasn’t too pleased to be back. We had agreed that we would ask for one of the puppies for B., as she was totally devastated by losing her first proper "own" pet. One of the little puppies made B.’s acquaintance, it looked like a fat golden hamster at that point, and so she chose that one. She decided to call it Molly.

We agreed to collect it in a fortnight, so that any further weaning could take place in the interim.

Right, case closed.
Yeah, as if……

As Molly was a bitch, you’d guessed that hadn’t you, we decided that Barnum should be a gentleman, and have a vasectomy. If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for him. Not only that, but the person who wrote the legislation forcing all dog owners in the state to have their dogs neutered, for her to be owning an un-neutered dog, didn’t sit too comfortably. (We’ve only had him a year and a half, no rush eh?)

Then Wife rang; "I’ve just had Millie’s owner on the phone, Millie’s been pining since we returned her, and would we consider adopting here rather than having a puppy?" Being the man of the house, and therefore its head and decision maker, I told Wife we’d leave B. choose. Brave decision of mine that.
Wife met B. after school, told her the score. B. went all Rita Hayworth on her, and, after coming out of her swoon, declared; "I want Millie back!"

Ok, so we agree to pick her up on the same days as arranged for collecting the puppy. They've been inseparable ever since. That was 15 years ago, we still have her, she's on the sofa with the wife at the mo.

In reply to Big Ger:

You great big soppy git...

In reply to AP Melbourne:
I appear to have acquired half a cat.

I've always liked and had cats growing up, but living where I do now everyone seems to have at least one cat and so i decided not to get cat as it's territory would have been rather limited so I locked the cat flap in the door when I moved in.

However about a year ago a new neighbour moved in that I get along with very well (we even have a gate between our tiny gardens) and she got herself a cat called Blue (it's a kind of blue grey)

Sure enough it has had a bit of trouble with the local cats, but this cat has slowly wormed it's way into my affections, and despite the fact that I never feed him in my house (I have on occasion fed him next door when Simone's away), he now always pops round for a stroke in the evenings, and has recently taken to arriving at my front door every morning as I leave for work asking to be let in. (I have made the cat flap exit only now due to the number of times he has sneaked in). Sometimes he's still there when I get home which means he's probably slept there all day (as going out would mean he's locked out).

Neighbour said she's had another cat in her house a few times so I guess he's decided my place is his safe zone.

In reply to Big Ger:

Dear Morris,

As a reluctant cat owner you have my sympathies, the only wins that I had were . . . .

1. No emptying of litter trays.
2. Naming rights.

So Desmond and Molly are currently purring on the chair beside me whilst their " owners" have taken themselves off to bed.

In reply to AP Melbourne:

What you cat lovers don't realise is that your cats are actually plotting to kill you and eat you. Read about the difference between cats and dogs here:

http://onpasture.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/535543_372889632751971_6252...

In reply to Rigid Raider:

Classic!