Funny cat/dog/velociraptor stories

[lihpster]

In another thread there was a post by venomballistics that had me rolling. it reminded me of another cat story. One I wasn't personally involved in, thank God, and that I didn't personally witness, dagnabit! That said it is a funny story, if a bit long. Grab a beer/whisky/coffee/Ensure or whatever as we take you on the Journey of "Bob". Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the injured and the embarrassed, all the same person.

I used to work at a place that seemed to be a magnet for pregnant strays. I could see why. Surrounded by grasses full of rodents and birds to murder, it was also warm and dry. They always seemed to gravitate to one department. It was upstairs, and only used 8 hours of the day. It was open to the rest of the plant and the glass tempering furnaces put out alot of heat. the fact that they did so at about 95db didn't seem to affect them much. Or maybe it did...

That department was staffed entirely with women. Now you get a large group of women together, show them something incredibly cute that needs a home, and they're gonna find that baby a home, brother! So they were always trying to get people to take these kittens home. And they were not above using feminine wiles to do so.

This brings us to "Bob". "Bob" is a truck driver, and not a very bright one at that. He's also single, and on the road 4 days a week. Well of course he is convinced to take one of these beautiful little creatures home. After all, why not? And if it helps in the bedroom, all the better. I told you he's not very bright, didn't I?

So, they put the kitten,a cute little grey female, in a carboard box with a towel and some little plastic things that the kittens liked to play with, closed it up and he took it to his pickup to go home. It was a '70s era Chevy. Right now you're saying, "What possible signifigance can that have?" Trust me, it's there.

Now at this time, we are going to switch to another narrator, so to speak. An eyewitness to the Incident. The receptionist saw it all and told it to me herself. Since she had a way with words, I'll try to recall her exact words, as memory serves. And those serves haven't always been aces lately, if you know what I mean.

" I was on the phone and I looked up and I see "Bob" puling out. Almost as soon as I saw him though, the truck stopped on a dime, while the cab looked like someone was blending a small, grey fur coat. It seemed like it went on forever, then suddenly everything stopped, the window came down a little bit and a bloody arm came out of it, holding the fur coat that was somehow both still being blended and held by the nape of the neck. Then the arm dropped the coat and it turned into a kitten and ran off. the window went up and 'Bob" took off."

Now, the next day when "Bob" came in he had scratches on both arms and his face/head. He didn't want to talk about it at first, but we finally got his side of the story. I will be using my own words because, well, he's not very bright.

He had put the box, closed, on the seat beside him, but before he could start the truck, he heard mewling coming from the box. So, he unfolded the top, and checked on his little passenger. Notice I didn't say tiny. This was one that had eluded the kindly grasp of the Estrogen Express for awhile, so it had both some size and some thought of independence. Apparently no less than Patrick Henry, in fact.

The kitten was calm at this time, just a little nervous, I suspect. I mean you get into a truck being driven by a man with questionable intelligence, worry is the correct response. He calmed her down with pets, and decided to leave the box open so she could sightsee on the way home. Yep, he started the truck, got about 50 yards from his parking spot and the fun began.

He said the cat was ding laps around the truck, at above lightspeed, between the back of the seat and the dash, circling the inside of the truck approximately a trillion times a second. Actually, I think he said "bagillion". It was hard to tell, he kept his head down and mumbled alot. Plus, there may have been something wrong with his lip.

Now, back in the truck, the cat is whirring around like a centrifuge, and every time it comes by him, it takes a swipe. His words. I think it was just using him to get from the seat to the dash and back. This is where the trouble, and the funny come in. Remeber, it's a '70s truck. The windows roll down. With an actual winder on the door. Think about it.

Every time you go to roll the window up or down in a vigorous fshion, like, say if a flying cuisinart is attacking you and you want it to fly away, you have to lean forward, putting your head/face closer to the dash/door junction, that very,very soon will have an apparently demonically possesed cat will be zipping by, knives out.

So, here he is, trying to roll down the window and getting turned into Julienne fries every time he tries. Finally, he grabs the cat, gets ahold of the scruff of the neck, opens the window and jettisons his murderous passenger, freeing him to go on about his search for a higher consciousness. Just kidding, he went to the strip club, and was provided first aid. By the bouncer. Name of Ugly Tom.

The cat apparently decided to move on to better climes and better classes of people, because it was never seen again. And I think it was best for all involved. Breakups can be so messy.

I hope you enjoyed this tale of the Painful and the Restless. What funny stories about animals do you have to share?

Also, no, I don't know what happened to "Bob" much after that. He got fired soon after. Not because of this, but because he wasn't......... you get the point.

 

[TX-Dennis]

When I was pretty young we had a house cat, a Siamese named Sampson. Also a barn cat named Delilah, but that's not really relevant to the story.

One night during a thunderstorm Sampson disappeared. My sister and I were quite distraught, but eventually we got over our upset. Then one night about six months later Dad opened the back door to let the dog out. Something zoomed into the house at about half the speed of light, entering between his feet. The mystery creature vanished somewhere into the dim recesses of the house. Eventually it was found. It turned out to be Sampson, much the worse for wear. He was skin and bones and his feet were rubbed raw apparently from a long journey.

Mom took him to the vet the next day, and was told that he had obviously traveled a great distance to get back home. The poor cat barfed up corn cobs. Evidently he'd tried eating anything that even remotely smelled like food.

Well, Sampson slowly recovered and gained his weight back. He lived to a ripe old age (for a cat) of about 18 years.

Delilah? Well, let's just say that barn cats didn't usually live long lives despite reputedly having nine of them.

 

[LVSteve]

When I was a teenager one of my aunts had a grey female striped tabby with a Siamese voice. She was called Sammy. Unbeknownst to me, this cat had particular tastes when it came to sleeping with people. So, one New Year's Eve when I was about 16 my aunt threw a major league party and I went to bed with a large skinful of "booze, various, for the drinking of". Recall that in England age limits on booze apply to licensed premises, not private residences. Take that, temperance fiends.

At some oh-dark-thirtyish hour, we all finally went to bed. I was in a regular twin bed while two of my younger cousins "topped and tailed" in another bed in the room. I'm just dozing off in an alcoholic haze when loud purring starts up in my face. I open my eyes and there is Sammy. "Hello puss, whatcha doing?" I probably slurred and get on arm out to give her some fuss. This leaves a pathway under the covers, and she quickly pushes herself into the bed with me, but I'm too drunk to get all that excited and go to sleep...or pass out. (Tick box you think applies)

Sometime late morning I wake up. I open my eyes and there is Sammy's head on the pillow. OK, my still alcohol addled brain has another go and reassesses the image being sent by my eyes. I am fervently wishing at this point that I have not somehow become involved in a feline version of the horse's head in the bed scene in the Godfather. Ah, the cat's head is attached to a bulge in the bedclothes no doubt created by the rest of Sammy. PHEW!!! There she was, lying in the bed like a little person with her head on the pillow. Different, but preferable to my initial thoughts. I carefully climbed out of bed so as not to disturb her and went in search of breakfast.

My aunt laughed like a drain when I told her of my initial shock at seeing Sammy's head on the pillow. Apparently she did it quite often to certain members of the family, but not all wanted to share their bed with her. It was a surprise that she did it to me given that I was an infrequent visitor to the household. However, Sammy and their other cat quickly worked out I am a cat lover, to the point that near fights broke out when I visited as to who got to sit on my lap.

 

[Buford57]

During my misspent youth I worked in a feed and grain operation. The boss kept a black female cat called, appropriately, Cat to control the rat population. It was a job for 10 cats. One cold winter day the boss decided Cat wasn't pulling her weight and, oiled by several shots of blackberry brandy, picked her up by the front and hind legs. Holding her face to face like an IJ Enforcer he delivered an ultimatum: you are a cat; cats kill rats; I've got rats; I don't need a cat won't kill rats sleeping by the stove while rats eat me out of business. Kill a rat. He pitched her out the door, slammed it behind her and warned me not to let her back in the office until the rat problem abated. I opened up the next morning and found 3 large rats, heads chewed off, lined up on the boss' desk. Cat spent the winter in the office. When she finally cashed in her replacement was a huge blue-gray baritone tomcat named Old Blue. But that's another story.

 

[Greyman50]

Our best Grey was a large male. He would get in bed with us, plop his head on his pillow ,fold his long legs up and go to sleep. Never be another. Miss him every day.

 

[TX-Dennis]

When I was a kid a large black domestic longhair showed up at my grandparents house. He wound up staying. My grandmother named him Lonesome since he was a stray.

Ol' Lonesome may have had some brain damage, or maybe he was just weird. He would climb trees like most cats will, but Lonesome was just a bit clumsy which most cats aren't. Numerous times we watched as he fell out of trees while attempting to climb them.

Then some how Lonesome learned to jump up and ring the doorbell when he wanted in. I really don't know how he figured that out. Maybe from watching people ring the bell and be let inside? However it happened, for the rest of his life Lonesome would jump up and ring the doorbell to be let in.

 

[YeshuaIsa53]

My wife had a lot of cats when we married. I took one each paycheck to be neutered.

One furry grey cat came along and she named it Stormy. Had an old Dodge D100 pickup truck and Stormy would hop up on the breather and hang out with me while leaning under the hood working. She would always stay and keep me company until I was done.

Stormy outlived all the other cats, and I liked the friendship we had. I had never had a cat friend before, being a dog man.

We were with two friends at Olive Garden dining and they were talking cats. I joined in with stories from here and there. I was asked if Stormy was still alive, and said "No, Stormy finally died."

A lady leaned over to her friend at the next table and said to her friend, "He said finally."