Midnight.
I got Midnight when he was 9 months old, he is my eldest, he will be 5 on October 31st. We felt a Halloween birthday would be appropriate! Midders is a gorgeous, big, black, tom cat, (Ex Tom!!) with a serious attitude problem. He was rescued by the Cat Orphanage in Stockton (NE England) when he was found stray. Apparently his old Mum & Dad had moved & left him behind. How could anyone do that to a beautiful big tom like that??? He was roaming free for some 2 months before he was captured, and has probably sired many kittens! (Heaven help us!)
When I was looking for a cat to adopt he decided that I was the one for him, even though I was just looking at that time! He climbed into my cat basket & sung a "take me home" song. So I did!
Once home, I was left with the problem of naming my new beastie. I had a list of names & I had decided that I would award him one of them once I knew his character a little. He went mad, sniffing his new home, & kissing everything in an "I live here now" manner. This continued until the bells from the church at the end of the road struck midnight when he curled up, contentedly on my knee. It stuck! He chose me, he chose his name, and he's had rule of the roost since then!!!
He is quite a character. It all started when he was first allowed out. I had a cat flap installed, and after 5 days of intensive training (pushing through the flap from either side) he got the hang of it. There has been no stopping him since!
The first person he really annoyed was the butcher up the street. He had sneaked in, and managed to grab himself a string of sausages, about 30 in total, and ran for his little furry life! I was on my way out, and what a sight, I saw midders heading towards the house from the top of the street where the butchers was, with his string of sausages. He had one in his mouth, and the rest were trailing between his legs on the floor. As he ran, we wore out the links between them & was leaving batches of 2 or 3 sausages here, there & everywhere! Behind him ran the butcher with his cleaver! It was just like punch & Judy, The butcher had his stripy apron on & was waving his cleaver whilst shouting obscenities at my cat! I ran into the house & denied everything! When Midnight came in with about 4 sausages, (all he had left!) I cooked a couple for him to eat. He'd earned them. This happened several times, various neighbours commented that they had seen him & the butcher running about the street!
Next came the bird phase. It was fledgling season. Every Sunday morning for some 6 weeks he brought me a freshly killed fledgling & placed it on top of my just delivered, Sunday newspaper to bleed! (I only got a newspaper on Sundays, and Co-incidentally only got a bird on Sundays! Did he know?) I stopped ordering the Sunday paper, so he waited about 3 weeks, then started bring me daily birds, and placing them at the bottom of the stairs, with the beak pointing upwards, hidden just enough that when I came downstairs in my bare feet every morning I almost stood on it! Urgh!
Soon after this I moved house to be with my long distance boyfriend, some 350 miles away. Within days he became violent. The one & only time he was violent with me, Midnight attacked him, and ripped shreds out of his leg. We moved back up north that night. My hero.
I got myself a flat in Darlington, in the North East, and started again. Midnight was soon settled and was allowed out again. I had a lady who did some cleaning for myself & my flatmate & she commented that it was my cat she had seen in the town! My Midders! He had crossed 2 main roads, and walked several hundred meters of busy road to go to a pub! He had also been barred by the time I found out! (Whether it was because he was under age or he didn't have any money, I don't know!)
Midnight then found a new fish & chip shop. It started all over again. He brought me various fish remains from their bin, and even stole a whole side of cod whilst I was in the shop. He had sneaked round the back, over the 7ft high wall, and into the back of the shop. The lady cursed that there was a big cat in the back of the shop, and I knew it would be him. He moved over to the side of the shop where he could see me, gave me a look of "sorry but it has to be done" and off he went with his side of fish! I chased him down the street, but he went off to one of his hiding places & when he came in that night he was incredibly proud of himself & fishy. I had to go back to the shop & pay for the fish.
This kind of behaviour continued, and he became known as Mr Fishy Trousers with all of the locals. He was known by most of them, making himself a prominent member of just about everyone's family!
When my fiancée & I decided it was time to buy a house, we moved again. by this time I had 2 more cats, all rescue cases & much better behaved than Midders! Once settled, he was allowed out once more. He terrorised the new neighbourhood within a week. I had received complaints about a cat in pain, it turned out to be that Midnight was pleased with himself for some reason & was rolling about squealing! He had also let himself into 5 houses in the next street. In each one, he had helped himself to food, done his business & gone to sleep in the owners beds, just in time for them to come home from work & find him!
Just 3 weeks ago, Midnight came in with some painty-sticky-stuff on his back legs, from the "elbow" down. He had obviously sat in it. We still don't know what it was but we know it would have been bad for him if he had eaten it whilst washing. As it has a solvent smell to it, the vet said that it may have been highly toxic. We were advised to bath him. He hates baths!!! We did our best at the kitchen sink with the fairy liquid, but it wasn't shifting. We then took out my fiancée's beard trimmer & shaved his legs!!! He looks soooooooo silly!!! He has his big fluffy bottom, and then these tiny stick legs! He looks like he might snap!!! Co-incidentally, I'm covered in scratches, and I have a very interesting scratch-bruise on my collar bone where he really meant it. Little swine.
Recently he has taken to attacking parcel delivery men & post men. He sits up on his back legs, and waves his front legs about in a threatening way. I had to apologise to one yesterday. It was the second time this chappie had come back. we weren't in the other day so he was going to put a card through in the post box to let us know we had a parcel. Midnight wouldn't let him near! He had to come back with the parcel when I was in to control Midnight!
He has cost me hundreds of pounds in vet fees, he keeps fighting & getting himself injured one way or another, I have even set up a direct debit with the vet now, because he will cost me the money sooner or later, so I might as well pay monthly!
The good news is that in the last year he has calmed down considerably. He will sit on my knee of an evening, he like cuddles, and he has friends too. He calls for a cat down the street every morning, mewing until his friend comes out to play! He doesn't attack as many things/people/cats/etc now, he has really mellowed out with age. The only problem now is that I have a 1 year old little cat which Midnight has taken under his wing, and is training him to be a terror too! Just another 3 or 4 years to go with this one......hopefully!
Liz Dunn.
At Home With Guinness And Murphy.
Monday 28th April 2003 dawned wet and chilly, but that didn`t matter because we were moving house.We had come into our foster home a couple of months previously, and were looking for kind new owners. Luckily, our foster mum had a friend who wanted to adopt a cat, and after meeting us, decided that two cats were far better than one.
Our new mummy arrived with a brand new cat basket to take us all the way up to Gateshead to live. However, first we had to endure flea spraying and worming tablets and a half hour car journey, which seemed to take forever.
We arrived at our new home and really enjoyed having the whole house to roam around and explore. There were lots of interesting new places to discover, like cupboards under the stairs and drawers under beds, as well as our own new feeding quarters, the conservatory.
It didn`t take long to settle in and soon we were sitting on the sofa with our new mummy and watching the Aristocats on video. Daddy arrived home around about six o`clock and we took to him straight away. he has a nice smell and tickles us under the chin. {Murphy likes him particularly}. There are lots of comfortable places to sleep in our new home, like big soft sofas and comfy chairs, but the most comfortable place is Mummy and Daddy`s bed, where we curl up. {Guiness on the duvet and Murphy underneath it!}.
Nearly Two Months Later.
Here we are completely settled in to our new home. Now we have microchips and have been vaccinated, {a bit of a trauma that} and so we are allowed outside now. The garden is a very interesting place too, full of plants to chew and frogs to play with, although Mummy doesn`t like us to. Mummy and Daddy spend a lot of time outside in the garden so we do too,making sure that they do the weeding properly and water the plants regularly, but not us.
Mummy and Daddy have lots of friends and family who visit, including our foster mum, and we get along with everybody, even visiting babies.
Time to get off and play hide and seek now for half an hour, before curling up on the couch and watching TV.
Four Months Later. An Update From Murphy.
Although the garden is an interesting place, it is full of hidden dangers too. In early September I went out into the garden and came back with a torn paw. So here was the start of many traumatic
trips to the vet, to have the toe amputated and then to have the dressing changed. I had a variety of fashionable bandages to wear in a myraid of colours, but the red christmas stocking ones were the best. I gave Mummy a real fright when I gnawed one off and left it whole in her bed. It looked like my leg had fallen off!!!.
Finally, my foot is alright now, healed up nicely and you can hardly tell that I have had any bother with it. Guinness has been really lucky and hasn`t had to go to the vet at all, but Daddy says she hid under the dinning room table whenever I was away.
We met my Mummy`s nephew and niece at the weekend
and we weren`t that keen. The little boy was noisy and kept chasing us around the house. The little girl was nicer and managed to stroke us for a little while. Perhaps we will get used to them?
Mummy is really looking forward to something called Christmas, and keeps threatening to make us wear tinsel and little hats!!!. Still, we get to get a stocking full og goodies and left over chicken, with all the bones removed, of course {we only accept the best!}. We will also get lots of attention from our grandparents and any people visiting. We love people coming round, although small children are best in small doses.
We are totally at home now, and have taken over certain areas of the house as our own {the bedroom the living room, dinning room, you get the picture}. Now that it is getting cold, we don`t go out so much and prefer to curl up with Mummy and Daddy, or in front of the fire, when it is on.
Guinness is still very fond of Mummy and I am definately a Daddy`s girl, but we like it best when both are in, and we can curl up with one each, although Guinness never sits on Mummy¬s lap, she just curls up next to her, whereas I prefer to spraw all over Daddy, or curl up on his lap. At night I sleep in between Mummy and Daddy, under the duvet, but Guinness likes to sleep on the floor, or at the bottom of the bed. Guinness
bites toes though, if they are left sticking out of the bed!. Of course,I would never do such a thing!!!.
Well, despite a brief bout of enteritis, I am well and even putting on a bit if weight, what with being fed tuna once a week and occasional bits of left over chicken or fish. Guinness isn`t getting any thinner either, but she seems happy enough, and we both now have lovely shiny coats for the winter.
Murphy and Guinness.
Cats From Outer Space
Have you ever suspected that your cat may be from another planet?
Do you sometimes wake in the night to find your cat standing ontop of you, peering into your face, as if poised to perform some diabolical
extraterrestrial experiment?.
When you feed your cat, does he, or she look up at you sceptically as if to say, "My rations in thw space pod were much better than this."
If so, your cat may be from outer space......
Many people live with cats from outer space. they may not realize it for years. Then one day, they`re reading the Weekly World News and they notice that the pictured space aliens bear remarkable similarity to the moony-eyed, pot-bellied feline enigma crunched on their lap.
Reading further, they begin to suspect that their own cat may be involved in the alien abductions. They consider bringing it up with the cat, but fear that they themselves may end up rocketing across the galaxy on a spaceship full of cats, an empty bag of kibble stuffed in their mouth.
How To Tell If Your Cat Is From Outer Space.
If you suspect that your cat may be from another planet, ask yourself these questions:
Do you sometimes wake in the night to find your cat fighting with extraterrestrial beings from another dimension that no one but the cat can see?
Does your cat often simulate life in an anti-
gravity environment by rolling on his back to look at you upside down, or stretch into peculiar ballet positions in your arms?
Does your cat pretzel into strange sleeping postures that suggest she has undergone extensive
astronaut training?
Does your cat try to communicate with extra terrestrials by meowing at the TV, sitting on short-wave radios, lying on the computor monitor, or in any way attempting to serve as an antenna for a piece of consumer electronics?
Does your cat stare at walls for hours as if receiving radio messages from the mother ship through the plasterboard?
Does your cat respond to the phrase "Beam me up!?"
Does your cat respond to anything in Klingon?
Does your cat meticulously push the litter around her litter box so that it looks crater-pocked like the lunar surface?
Does your cat`s style of communicating with your computer seem more advanced that your own? For instance, does the cat sit on the monitor and look at it upside-down, or lay on the keyboard until the computer won`t stop beeping?
Does your cat seem more intelligent than you are sometimes--and superior to you as well?
If you`ve answered "yes" to any of the above, your cat may be a visitor on earth, sneakily gathering reconnaissance information to aid his race in their path to conquer human civilization and blanket the earth with carpet-covered kitty condos. Whatever you do, don`t give him directions to the carpet store.
What Cats From Outer Space Look Like.
Cats frpm outer space look very much like ordinary cats. They have four feet, a tail, whiskers, ears that swivel side to side to pick up sounds from deep space, and eyes that look at you as if they can`t believe how dumb you are. In
addition, they are remarkably adept at getting you to do things that you wouldn`t ordinarily do:
like pulling yourself out of bed at 3 a.m. to freshen the bowl of liver bits, or opening the back door a dozen times in less than an hour to let the cat in and out.
What To Feed Cats From Outer Space.
Nothing that you feed your cat from outer space will be as good as what they ate on their home planet-and they will remind you of this frequently So don`t even try to placate them.
Special Care Tips For Cats From Outer Space.
Remember that sometimes your cat will slip into an alternate universe in which he will confuse you for a giant spaceship vending machine-one that he needs merely to stand in front of meowing
in order to elicit bowls of tuna and bits of cheese. Depending upon what corner of the galaxy your cat harkens from, he may confuse you for a robot instead-one that he must repeatedly trip in order to procure treats and transport from.
How Cats From Outer Space Differ From Cats Who`ve
Been Abducted By Aliens.
Finally, you should not confuse cats from outer space with those who`ve been abducted by aliens. While the two kinds of cats are similare in many ways, cats who`ve been abducted by aliens like to run thriugh the house crazily at night, jumping over furniture and scooting behind potted plants, re-enacting their escape from green men in saucer-shaped ships.
If You Suspect Your Cat-Call The Alien Hotline Now
Unknown.
A Cat's Diary
Day 751: My captors continue to torment me with bizarre dangling objects. They eat lavish meals in my presence while I am forced to subsist on dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of eventual escape -- that, and the satisfaction I get from occasionally ruining some piece of their furniture.
I fear I may be going insane. Yesterday, I ate a houseplant. Tomorrow I may eat another.
Unknown.
Someone Remind Me Again Why I Have All These Damn Cats.
2:30 a.m. Wake up and groggily try to get my bearings. Someone is sleeping on my head. Someone else is sleeping in my face. Sensing movement he stretches luxuriously, extending one paw into my right eye, the other into the corner of my mouth. I spit fur and jockey for position on the pillow. I'm fully awake now. A second too late, I realize my mistake. I try to feign sleep again, but it's too late. Sensing the return of a human consciousness, the downstairs cat starts wailing for her breakfast. I sense I have failed to impress upon her the meaning of the end of daylight savings time. Perhaps if I lie here quietly for a few minutes, she will go back to sleep. However, this just gives me time to reflect on the fact that I have to use the bathroom and I really want something to drink. Decision time. If I get up, I will wake EVERYBODY up. With the exception of my human companion, who can seemingly sleep through anything...thunder storms, earthquakes, six hungry cats impatient for their breakfast...
Resignedly, I get up. Stumble to the bathroom. The word goes out. "She's up! She's up!" A flurry of activity. The bathroom door crashes open. Two of the boys swagger in to see if I am doing anything interesting in there with the door closed. I spend a moment longing for a place of my own, where I can wake up thirsty, get a drink and be back in bed in thirty seconds. Or pee in privacy, for that matter. Not in this lifetime.
I creep down the stairs, still labouring under the delusion that I can put off the breakfast ordeal until a more reasonable hour. The house is dark. Outside it is peaceful and quiet. I would like to enjoy the silence and solitude for a few minutes. I sit on the couch and light a smoke. "Just give me a minute to wake up, okay? It's not breakfast time yet!", I say, with what I hope is authoritative firmness and resolve. The darkness envelops me. I sink into the couch and relax. Suddenly, a dark shape slithers along the floor. It launches itself onto one of the other dark lumps on the carpet. A vicious sneak attack! Miscellanous thumps and bumps. Body slams and slapping tails. A wrestling match in progress. At last a plaintive cry. "Whoever that is, let whoever else that is out of that headlock!", I shout. The shapes scatter. The downstairs cat starts whining again.
Something nudges my foot. A cat toy? I lean over, trying to distinguish whether it is a tinfoil ball or a spongeball..."Arrrrghhh!! That's my foot, dammit! Your ball's over there!" Teeth and nails are extracted painfully as a three cat freight train goes rumbling by at high speed, heading from upstairs to the basement. The frenzy has only just begun.
Suddenly, I hear a rustling, crunching sound. "Is someone eating my plants?", I shout, an edge of hysteria creeping into my voice now. "That better not be someone eating my plants!" The sound stops, temporarily. Growling now in the kitchen, from the girl cat. Translation: "Mom, Buttley's staring at me!" Me, "Buttley, stop staring at your sister." More growling. "Mom! Buttley's MAKING FACES AT ME!!" "Buttley! STOP MAKING FACES AT YOUR SISTER!!" More wrestling, thumping, fat paw pads slapping on the linoleum. Whining from the dining room. Growling in the kitchen. And the plant noise is back.
"All right! That's it! You guys are in trouble now!" I shout, losing it entirely. I grab for the squirt bottle and start firing blindly, blanketing the room with water fire. At least some of my shots find their targets and the dark shapes scatter. Nothing for it now but to feed the monsters.
Collateral damage. I slog through damp puddles to the kitchen and hit the lights, muttering something about spoiled cats and it being only 3:00 in the morning, after all. I gather plates and tins of cat food. This takes some effort. Six cats equals six plates of wet food, four bowls of dry kibble and a communal water bowl. We used to have a communal kibble bowl too until we got Fat Merlin who has to be watched like a hawk lest he eat everything in sight.
I busy myself with my role of short order cook. Let's see. That's four bowls of liver & bacon, two with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top and two without. Two bowls of senior's beef, one for the elderly cat and one for the boy who doesn't like liver. Except when he does. Okay, I'll put some of each on your plate and you can choose. A bowl of kibble for each of the boys, none for the elderly cat who finds kibble beneath her dignity and none for the fat girl who is on a diet. Feed the elderly one in the dining room where she currently lives (she's old, she does what she wants - hey, she spent three months living on our kitchen table this summer - whatever). The girl eats on the dining room table. Won't eat anywhere else. The skinny boy eats on the kitchen table so Fat Merlin can't steal his food. Fat Merlin eats in the kitchen where I can keep an eye on him. The other boy has to have his wet food and kibble in the dining room next to the water bowl, although he will not drink from it. The last boy eats on the stairs. Okay, one particular stair. I hover, picking up bowls as soon as they are finished eating, on account of Fat Merlin.
Next, it is time for drinks. Two boys will only drink from the bathtub faucet, except for when Tigger wants to drink from the kitchen faucet. Fat Merlin prefers the bathroom sink. Two cats will actually drink from the water dish, but only if their brother has not dropped kibble into it. So I make the rounds turning on the taps, and a few minutes later have to go around again turning them off.
The downstairs cat is crying again. She's ready for a refill. Then I have to carry her to the cat pan, since she won't go there on her own anymore. So I stand there, a grown woman, saying "Come on, Garfie, make a pee so Mommy can go back to bed, okay?" Usually she obliges. I will wait fifteen minutes and then take her back down again so she can poo.
After they have been fed, of course, they want to play again. I spend some time surrounded by the four boys, trying to convince them that between the four of them they should be able to come up with some sort of game to play that doesn't involve ME. No matter. We get the toys out. Only an hour now until I have to get up for work. Maybe a quick game.
Finally they start to wind down. I'm back on the couch for another smoke. Ten dirty plates are stacked in the sink. The cat pan has been well used and scooped out. The house is silent and dark. Outside it is peaceful and quiet. I lie down on the couch, thinking to catch a quick nap before work. No sooner do I close my eyes than I hear the alarm go off upstairs. I struggle up again. The dining room cat, sensing the return of a human consciousness, starts whining for her breakfast...
I step carefully around the cat toys and leftover damp patches on the carpet from the water cannon, making my way to the kitchen for orange juice. The boys come running, hoping for breakfast. Expectant faces. I yell upstairs that it is my spouse's turn to feed them. Struggle into the shower, hoping the blasting water will wake me up enough to make it through the day at work. The bathroom door crashes open, and two of the boys swagger in to see if I am doing anything interesting in there with the door closed. A few minutes later the door crashes open again. "Can't you just go away!", I shout, "Leave me alone for a minute, would you? I'm busy!!" Muttering under his breath about incomprehensible mood swings, my spouse slinks from the bathroom. I spend a moment longing for a place of my own where I could shower in peace.
Exhausted, I descend the stairs. Ten more dirty plates in the sink. Thank God for the dishwasher. I look around the livingroom. The carpet is littered with toys, clumps of fur and kibble crumbs. Fat Merlin is asleep in the wing chair, on his back with his feet in the air, drooling. The dining room cat is curled up asleep by the baseboard heater. The skinny boy is cuddled up asleep on his blanket on the couch. The two other boys are snoozing on the other couch, snuggled up one at each end. The fat girl is sleeping on the dining room table. No one even wakes up to say goodbye as I head off to work.
Melissa Todd.
Going South For The Winter.
There was an outdoor cat in New York who would come home every night and sleep inside. Except, one October, the cat never came home. The owners thought it was dead.
In the spring it returned and looked great! He was healthy, shiny and well fed. This happened three times- three years in a row.
Finally, the owners were carrying the cat outside to go to the vet. An elderly couple came walking by and said "there's our cat!" The real cat owners said, "no. This is our cat, not yours. We've had him for 12 years now". "Oh". said the elderly couple. " We didn't know he was owned by anyone and coudn't stand to think of him roughing it through the severe winters so we took him with us to Florida every winter!".
Annon.
Cat And The Sink.
This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.
My husband Rich and I had just returned from a 5 day vacation in the Cayman Islands--where I had been sick as a dog the whole time. We arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays, had not been able to prepare for the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think about William Carlos Williams, and around ten o'clock I heard Rich hollering from the kitchen.
I raced over to see what was wrong and spied Rich frantically rooting around under the kitchen sink and Rudy--or, rather, Rudy's headless body--scrambling around in the sink, his claws clicking in panic on the metal and his head stuck in the garbage disposal. Rich had just ground up the skin of some smoked salmon in the disposal, and when he left the room; Rudy (who always was a pinhead) had gone in after it.
It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink. This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for ten years, who burrows under the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked like a fur-covered turkey carcass, defrosting in the sink while it's still alive and kicking. It was also disturbing to see Rich, Mr. Calm-in-any-Emergency, at his wit's end, trying to simultaneously soothe Rudy and undo the garbage disposal, and failing at both, and basically freaking out.
Adding to the chaos was Rudy's twin brother Lowell, also upset, racing around in circles, jumping onto the kitchen counter and alternately licking Rudy's butt for comfort and biting it out of fear. Clearly, I had to do something.
First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his head and neck with Johnson's baby shampoo (kept on hand for my nieces' visits) and butter-flavored Crisco. Both failed, and a now-greasy Rudy kept struggling. Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a good idea, but he couldn't do it. Turns out, the thing is constructed like a metal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy's head still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar.
My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy, trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he's part Siamese), and Rich clattering around under the sink with his tools. When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help. I called our regular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 o'clock at night (thanks, Dave). He talked Rich through further layers of disposal dismantling, but still we couldn't reach Rudy. I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no response), a pest removal service that advertises 24-hour service (no response), an all-night emergency veterinary clinic (who had no experience in this matter), and finally, in desperation, 9-1-1. I could see that Rudy's normally pink paw pads were turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out of trees; maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal. The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen. The cops arrived close to midnight and turned out to be quite nice. More importantly, they were also able to think rationally, which we were not.
They were, of course, astonished by the situation. "I've never seen anything like this," Officer Mike kept saying. (The unusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first- name basis with our cops.) Officer Tom, who expressed immediate sympathy for our plight
("I've had cats all my life," he said), also had an idea. Evidently we needed a certain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw, that could cut through the heavy plastic flange encircling Rudy's neck without hurting Rudy. Officer Tom happened to own one. "I live just five minutes from here," he said. "I'll go get it."
He soon returned, and the three of them--Rich and the two policemen--got under the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on the counter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of the scene, with the weird middle-of-the-night lighting, the room's occasional spinning, Lowell's spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in my sink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it. One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off the disposal, so we could now see Rudy's face and knew he could breathe. But they couldn't cut the flange without risking the cat. Stumped. Officer Tom had another idea. "You know," he said, "I think the reason we can't get him out is the angle of his head and body. (you can see where this is going, can't you?) "If we could just get the sink out," he continued, "and lay it on its side, I'll bet we could slip him out."
That sounded like a good idea--at this point, ANYTHING would have sounded like a good idea--and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a plumbing business on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink! Again they went to work, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the sink, surrounded by an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts.
They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines, unfastened the metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, voila! The sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding the garbage disposal which contained Rudy's head) up close to the sink (which contained Rudy's body). We laid the sink on its side, but even at this more favorable angle, Rudy stayed stuck. Officer Tom's radio beeped, calling him away on some kind of real police business. As he was leaving, though, he had another good idea. "You know," he said, "I don't think we can get him out while he's struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If he were limp, we could slide him out." And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover still worried about Rudy. The remaining three of us decided that getting Rudy sedated was a good idea, but Rich and I were new to the area. We knew that the overnight emergency veterinary clinic was only a few minutes away, but we didn't know exactly how to get there. "I know where it is!" declared Officer Mike. "Follow me!"
So Mike got into his patrol car, Rich got into the driver's seat of our car, and I got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left of the garbage disposal, and Rudy. It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followed Officer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into the garbage disposal to pet Rudy's face, hoping I could comfort him. Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger really hard and wouldn't let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear. Rich slammed on the brakes, hollering "What? What happened? Should I stop?" "No," I managed to get out between screams, "just keep driving. Rudy's biting me, but we've got to get to the vet. Just go!" Rich turned his attention back to the road, where Officer Mike took a turn we hadn't expected, and we followed. After a few minutes Rudy let go, and as I stopped screaming, I looked up to discover that we were wandering aimlessly through an industrial park, in and out of empty parking lots, past little streets that didn't look at all familiar.
"Where's he taking us?" I asked. "We should have been there ten minutes ago!" Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do was follow the police car until, finally, he pulled into a church parking lot and we pulled up next to him. As Rich rolled down the window to ask Officer Mike, where are we going, the cop, who was not Mike, rolled down his window and asked, "Why are you following me?"
Once Rich and I recovered from our shock at having tailed the wrong cop car and the policeman from his pique at being stalked, he led us quickly to the emergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door, exclaiming "Where were you guys???"
It was lucky that Mike got to the vet's ahead of us, because we hadn't thought to call and warn them about what was coming. (Clearly, by this time we weren't really thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sink containing Rudy, and the garbage disposal containing his head, and the clinic staff was ready. They took his temperature (which was down 10 degrees) and his oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vet declared, "This cat is in serious shock. We've got to sedate him and get him out of there immediately." When I asked if it was OK to sedate a cat in shock, the vet said grimly, "We don't have a choice."
With that, he injected the cat. Rudy went limp and the vet squeezed about half a tube of K-Y jelly onto the cat's neck and pulled him free. Then the whole team jumped into "code blue" mode. (I know this from watching a lot of ER.) They laid Rudy on a cart where one person hooked up IV fluids, another put little socks on his paws ("You'd be amazed how much heat they lose through their footpads," she said), one covered him with hot water bottles and a blanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up Rudy's now very gunky head. The fur on his head dried in stiff little spikes, making him look pathetically punk as he lay there, limp and motionless. At this point they sent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in the waiting room while they tried to bring Rudy back to life. I told Mike he didn't have to stay, but he just stood there, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he said again and again.
At about 3 a.m., the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good for a full recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re-hydrate him and give him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if all went well, we could take him home the following night. Just in time to hear the good news, Officer Tom rushed in, finished with his real police work and concerned about Rudy.
Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We hadn't unpacked from our trip, I was still intermittently dizzy, and I still hadn't prepared for my 8:40 class. "I need a vacation," I said, and while I called the office to leave a message canceling my class, Rich made us a pitcher of martinis. I slept late the next day and then badgered the vet about Rudy's condition until he said that Rudy could come home later that day. I was working on the suitcases when the phone rang. "Hi, this is Steve Huskey from the Norristown Times-Herald," a voice said. "Listen, I was just going through the police blotter from last night. Um, do you have a cat?" So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him immensely. A couple hours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too; did I have a picture of Rudy?
The next day Rudy was front-page news, under the ridiculous headline "Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot Water."
There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Mr. Huskey had somehow inferred that I called 9-1-1 because I thought Rich, my husband, was going into shock, although how he concluded this from my comment that "his pads were turning blue," I don't quite understand. So the first thing I had to do was call Rich at work--Rich, who had worked tirelessly to free Rudy--and swear that I had been misquoted. When I arrived at work myself, I was famous; people had been calling my secretary all morning to inquire about Rudy's health. When I called our regular vet (whom I had met only once) to make a follow-up appointment for Rudy, the receptionist asked, "Is this the famous Rudy's mother?" When I took my car in for routine maintenance a few days later, Dave, my mechanic, said, "We read about your cat. Is he OK?" When I called a tree surgeon about my dying red oak, he asked if I knew the person on that street whose cat had been in the garbage disposal. And when I went to get my hair cut, the shampoo person told me the funny story her grandma had read in the paper, about a cat that got stuck in the garbage disposal.
Even today, over a year later, people ask about Rudy, which a 9-year-old neighbor had always called "the Adventure Cat" because he used to climb on the roof of her house and peer in the second-story window at her. I don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that this "adventure" cost me $1,100 in emergency vet bills, follow- up vet care, new sink, new plumbing, new electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal--one with a cover. The vet can no longer say he's seen everything but the kitchen sink.
I wanted to thank Officers Tom and Mike by giving them gift certificates to the local hardware store, but was told that they couldn't accept gifts, that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a letter to the Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent individual thank you notes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of Rudy, so they could see what he looks like with his head on.
And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (or so we thought), still sleeps with me-under the covers on cold nights, and, unaccountably, still sometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish.
Mags.C
Basic Rules For Cats - Who Have Households To Run
DOORS: Do not allow closed doors in any room. To get door opened, stand on hind legs and hammer with forepaws. Once door is opened, it is not necessary to use it. After you have ordered an "outside" door opened, stand halfway in and out and think about several things. This is particularly important during very cold weather, rain, snow, or mosquito season. Swinging doors are to be avoided at all costs.
CHAIRS and RUGS: If you have to throw up, get to a chair quickly. If you cannot manage in time, get to an Oriental rug. If there is no Oriental rug, shag is good. When throwing up on the carpet, make sure you back up so that it is as long as the human's bare foot.
GUESTS: Quickly determine which guest hates cats the most, and sit on that lap. If you can manage to have Friskies fish-n-glop on your breath, so much the better. For sitting on laps or rubbing against trouser legs, select fabric colors which contrast the most with your own fur. For example, white furred cats go to black wool clothing. For guest who claim to love cats, be aloof. Disdainfully apply claws to stockings, or use a quick nip on the ankle for emphasis. When walking among dishes on the dining table, be prepared to look surprised and hurt when you are scolded. The goal is to imply that you are always allowed on the table when there are no guests present.
BATHROOMS: Always accompany guests to the bathroom. It is not necessary to do anything -- just sit and stare.
HELPING: If one of your humans is engaged in some close activity and the other is idle, stay with the busy one. This is called "helping", otherwise known as "hampering." Following are the rules for "helping"
When supervising cooking, sit just behind the left heel of the cook. You cannot be seen and thereby stand a better chance of being stepped on and then picked up and comforted.
For book readers, get in close under the chin, between eyes and book, unless you can lie across the book itself.
For knitting projects or paperwork, lie on the work in the most appropriate manner so as to obscure as much of the work as possible or at least the most important part. Pretend to doze, but every so often reach out and slap the pen or knitting needles. This can cause a jagged line or a dropped stitch. The worker may try to distract you; ignore it. Remember, your aim is to help your human. Embroidery and needlepoint projects make great hammocks in spite of what the humans may tell you.
For people paying bills (monthly activity) or working on income taxes or Christmas cards (annual activity), keep in mind the aim! First, sit on the paper being worked on. When dislodged, watch sadly from the side of the table. When activity proceeds nicely, roll around on the papers, scattering them to the best of your ability. After being removed for the second time, push pens, pencils, and erasers off the table, one at a time.
When a human is holding the newspaper in front of him/her, be sure to jump on the back of the paper. They love to jump.
When a human is talking on the telephone, be sure to walk/jump on the instrument, causing a disconnection.
When a human is using the computer:
join in - paws on keyboards have exactly the same effect as fingers.
drape attractively on top of the monitor with tail dangling over the screen.
settle down to sleep on top of the printer - this is huge fun: causes paper feeds, ink cleaning, hair in the works, and so on.
PLAY: This is an important part of your life. Get enough sleep in the daytime so you are fresh for your nocturnal games. Below are listed several favorite cat games that you can play. It is important though to maintain one's Dignity at all times. If you should have an accident during play, such as falling off a chair, immediately wash a part of your body as if to say "I meant to do that!" It fools those humans every time.
CAT GAMES: "Catch Mouse": The humans would have you believe that those lumps under the covers are their feet and hands. They are lying. They are actually Bed Mice, rumored to be the most delicious of all the mice in the world, though no cat has ever been able to catch one. Rumor also has it that only the most ferocious attack can stun them long enough for you to dive under the covers to get them. Maybe you can be the first to taste the Bed Mouse!
"King of the Hill": This game must be played with at least one other cat. The more, the merrier! One or both of the sleeping humans is Hill 303 which must be defended at all costs from the other cat(s). Anything goes. This game allows for the development of unusual tactics as one must take the unstable playing theater into account.
Warning: Playing either of these games to excess will result in expulsion from the bed and possibly from the bedroom. Should the humans grow restless, immediately begin purring and cuddle up to them. This should buy you some time until they fall asleep again. If one happens to be on a human when this occurs, this cat wins the round of King of the Hill.
TOYS: Any small item is a potential toy. If a human tries to confiscate it, this means that it is a Good Toy. Run with it under the bed. Look suitably outraged when the human grabs you and takes it away. Always watch where it is put so you can steal it later. Two reliable sources of toys are dresser tops and wastebaskets. There are several types of cat toys. Bright shiny things like keys, brooches, or coins should be hidden so that the other cat(s) or humans can't play with them. They are generally good for playing hockey with on uncarpeted floors. Dangly and/or string-like things such as shoelaces, cords, gold chains, and dental floss also make excellent toys. They are favorites of humans who like to drag them across the floor for us to pounce on. When a string is dragged under a newspaper or throw rug, it magically becomes the Paper/Rug Mouse and should be killed at all costs. Take care, though. Humans are sneaky and will try to make you lose your Dignity.
PAPER BAGS: Within paperbags dwell the Bag Mice. They are small and camouflaged to be the same color as the bag, so they are hard to see. But you can easily hear the crinkling noises they make as they scurry around the bag. Anything, up to and including shredding the bag, can be done to kill them.
Note: any other cat you may find in a bag hunting for Bag Mice is fair game for a Sneak Attack, which will usually result in a great Tag match.
FOOD: In order to get the energy to sleep, play, and hamper, a cat must eat. Eating, however, is only half the fun. The other half is getting the food. Cats have two ways to obtain food: convincing a human you are starving to death and must be fed NOW; and hunting for it oneself. The following are guidelines for getting fed.
When the humans are eating, make sure you leave the tip of your tail in their dishes when they are not looking.
Never eat food from your own bowl if you can steal some from the table.
Never drink from your own water bowl if a human's glass is full enough to drink from.
Should you catch something of your own outside, it is only polite to attempt to get to know it. Be insistent -- your food will usually not be so polite and try to leave.
Table scraps are delicacies with which the humans are unfortunately unwilling to readily part. It is beneath the Dignity of a cat to beg outright for food as lower forms of life such as dogs will, but several techniques exist for ensuring that the humans don't forget you exist. These include, but are not limited to: jumping onto the lap of the "softest" human and purring loudly; lying down in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, the Direct Stare, and twining around people's legs as they sit and eat while meowing plaintively.
SLEEPING: As mentioned above, in order to have enough energy for playing, a cat must get plenty of sleep. It is generally not difficult to find a comfortable place to curl up. Any place a human likes to sit is good, especially if it contrasts with your fur color. If it's in a sunbeam or near a heating duct or radiator, so much the better. Of course, good places also exist outdoors, but have the disadvantages of being seasonal and dependent on current and previous weather conditions such as rain. Open windows are a good compromise.
WALKING: As often as possible, dart quickly and as close as possible in front of the human, especially: on stairs
when they have something in their arms
in the dark when they first get up in the morning
This will help their coordination skills.
SCRATCHING POSTS: It is advised that cats use any scratching post the humans may provide. They are very protective of what they think is their property and will object strongly if they catch you sharpening your claws on it. Being sneaky and doing it when they aren't around won't help, as they are very observant. If you are an outdoor kitty, trees are good. Sharpening your claws on a human is a definite no-no!
HUMANS: Humans have three primary functions:
to feed us
to play with and give attention to us
to clean the litter box
It is important to maintain one's Dignity when around humans so that they will not forget who is the master of the house. Humans need to know basic rules. They can be taught if you start early and are consistent. You will then have a smooth-running household.
BEDTIME: Always sleep on the human at night so he cannot move around.
Annon.
Rules For Daisy To Live By.
Below is a list that I made my cat sign by putting her paw print on it.
1.A new flea collar is not an excuse for a six-hour sulk. If Mommy thinks that neon pink with rhinestones is "my" color, I will wear it proudly, even though she usually gets me a nice mild cornflower blue color.
2.Even though I don't like it when my Mommy is on the telephone, it is rude for me to put my paw on her mouth to get her to be quiet.
3.Mommy does not find it funny when my sister and I are sliding across the freshly waxed floor and crashing into the closed bedroom door at 3:00 a.m., and I should not do that.
4.I am a cat, not a groundhog. I do not need to burrow under the blankies and attack my Mommy's legs. Or worse yet, make a moving target for my sister to attack under the blanket causing one of us to dig our nails into Mommy's butt.
5.I am not a big-horned sheep. I do not need to harm anyone or knock food out of their hands in the process of head butting.
6.I am not required to shed the newspaper to save my Mommy from it.
7.I do not necessarily have to be on the other side of a closed door, especially if I was just there.
8.I do not desperately need to be somewhere else in the house right this instance. Running full speed through the house will only cause me to run into things and make it likely that I will knock something over. Whatever is in the other room will wait thirty seconds for me to get there.
9.I have no reason to do the high jump every time someone speaks to me or tries to pet me.
10.I should not reach out and grab my Mommy's foot from under the bed, especially when she is home alone. She screams REALLY loud.
11.I will learn that when I do not respond to my name when I am called, that I am running the risk of being locked out of the house. My Mommy is a good person and makes sure I have food and water so I won't be traumatized into thinking I am a stray once again. I do not have to put on a royally miffed attitude when she finally comes home.
12.I will not "wall surf" if my Mommy is not paying enough attention to me.
13.I will not act like it is the end of the world because someone touched my food dish.
14.I will not bat loose change, glasses, alarm clocks, etc. from the top of the headboard onto my Mommy's head to get her to wake up.
15.I will not crawl into the dishwasher when it is full of clean dishes.
16.I will not do my famous high-wire act across the curtain rods.
17.I will not do anything (else) that warrants having the police called on me.
18.I will not drag dirty socks out of the laundry basket and bury them in the litter box.
19.I will not drool on my Mommy's friends.
20.I will not drop my catnip mouse into my Mommy's mouth because she's snoring.
21.I will not hook a claw into Mommy's nostril to wake her up on the weekends.
22.I will not lick the glue off of all the envelopes I can find.
23.I will not lick Mommy's armpits while she is sleeping.
24.I will not puff my entire body to twice it's size for no reason after Mommy's just finished a horror movie.
25.I will not sit on top of the refrigerator and swat people on the head when they walk by.
26.I will not sniff at Daddy's feet after he takes his shoes off, freeze my mouth open in disgust and then sniff my private parts to compare odors. Mommy might find it amusing, but Daddy does not appreciate it, especially in front of company.
27.I will not stare at the door for ten minutes, then refuse to go out because the weather is not what I wanted it to be. I also understand that the weather will be the same at the back door.
28.If Mommy puts a paper sack on the floor for me to play with, I will NOT pee on it when it gets stomped flat.
29.It's not nice to walk on the back of the sofa behind Mommy's friends and lick their hair. They don't need grooming.
30.Mommy returns home from work every day - she always has. I do not have to act as though every trip out the door is her last.
31.When my Mommy is baking, she can handle the stirring just fine with a spoon. I really don't need to use my paws so her arms can rest.
32.I do not need to sit on Mommy's lap everytime she uses the potty.
33.I will not go screaming into the bathroom and swat my 15-lb sister on the butt while she is sitting on the edge of the full bathtub, causing her to fall into the water and lacerate Mommy's ribs in her panicked attempt to climb out.
34.I must not help myself to Q-Tips and I most certainly must not stuff them down the sink's drain.
35.I will not blame my Mommy when I fall into a tub full of water. She warns me and I just don't listen.
36.I will not lean way over to drink out of the tub, fall in, and then pelt right for the box of clumping cat litter.
37.I will not try to lick the toothpaste from the inside of Mommy's mouth.
38.I will not lick and then bite Mommy's legs when she comes out of the shower.
39.I will not play "hockey" with a shampoo cap in the bathtub at 4:00 a.m.
40.I will not play in the toilet and get the seat wet so that Mommy will yell at Daddy.
41.I will not stuff my favorite toy down the toilet and meow at Mommy when she flushes and water runs all over the bathroom.
Annon.
The Way To A Woman`s Heart....Is Through Her Cat.
So, you're dating a girl who shares her residence with a cat. If your relationship is going to get anywhere, I encourage you to follow each of these suggestions:
Never, ever mention that you can (or can't) smell the litter box.
If the kitten wants to spend an hour untying your shoelace, let him. When he gets it untied, retie it so he can continue playing.
Never make a big show of brushing the cat fur from your trousers.
Get in the habit of putting a couple of sardines in your pocket.
Slip them to the cat when she isn't watching. (Note: you may have to do this through the entire dating period, because the cat will likely go for your pocket each time you visit.)
Don't push the cat off the sofa if he's inserted himself between the two of you. If he's still sitting between the two of you when you get amorous, reassure him (mental telepathy is fine) that you have no harmful intentions against his companion, and move him gently to your lap. Try to keep one hand stroking the cat at all times in this situation.
If you're spending the night, do yourself a favour, and don't even TRY to sleep in the cat's favorite spot on the bed.
When you phone her, ask about her cat.
When she leaves the room to fix cocktails or check on dinner, ask her if she's got a cat toy handy so you can keep the cat entertained.
If you're taking her out to dinner, ask her if it's okay to bring home a "cat bag" of leftovers for the cat.
Unknown
Why You Should Suspect Your Cat Has Your E-Mail Password.
E-Mail flames from some guy named "Fluffy."
Traces of kitty litter in your keyboard.
You find you've been subscribed to strange newsgroups like alt.recreational.catnip.
Your web browser has a new home page <http://www.feline.com>.
Your mouse has teeth marks in it... and a strange aroma of tuna.
Hate-mail messages to Apple Computer Corp. about their release of "CyberDog."
Your new ergonomic keyboard has a strange territorial scent to it.
You keep finding new software around your house like CatinTax and WarCat II.
On IRC you're known as the IronMouser.
Little kitty carpal-tunnel braces near the scratching post.
Unknown.
The Long Journey Of A Homesick Cat.
A homesick cat named after British explorer Ranulph Fiennes traveled 300 miles to return home after his owner gave him away.
Ranulph, a black tomcat, was given to new owners in the north of England 18 months ago but last week turned up on the doorstep of Gil Bray in Archiestown, Scotland.
"I'm totally amazed but delighted he's back," Bray told a Glasgow newspaper. "He certainly lived up to his namesake's reputation as an adventurous traveller."
Bray's wife gave the cat to a friend in the north of England because her work kept her away from home for long periods. When the cat turned up last week, the Brays called their friends and found out it had disappeared in June.
"He is half the weight he was when he left and the local vet reckons he has honed up his hunting skills during the trek, probably living off mice, small birds and scraps," Bray said.
In a lucky twist, the cat showed up only days before the Brays were due to move to Glasgow, the Herald said.
Reuters. Scotland 1999.
Cat Lover`s Guide To Using A Computer.
Step One
Feed kitty
Step Two
Pat kitty till kitty purrs itself to sleep.
Step Three
Very carefully, deposit sleeping kitty in chair nearest the bathroom.
Step Four
Open Back door.
Step Five
Start bath and be sure to rub a little cat shampoo into your hands.
Step Six
Go find your cat.
Step Seven
Cat should have exited post haste by this stage, double check and then close door.
Step Eight
Start your computer.
If Cat appears out of nowhere and starts walking across your key board, deposit cat outside, and check your windows are secure. Restart your computer.
If Cat reappears and you have a cat flap, block cat flap and deposit kitty outside. You can now restart your computer.
If your Cat reappears again, you have a Schrodinger Cat and you must learn to do your computing around your kitty. Suggestion, disable keyboard and purchase a voice activation kit.
Annon.
Where Do Pets Come From?
A newly discovered chapter in the Book of Genesis has provided the answer to, "Where do pets come from?"
Adam said, "Lord, when I was in the garden, you walked with me everyday. Now I do not see you anymore. I am lonesome here & it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me."
And God said, "No problem! I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever & who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are & will love you as I do, in spite of yourself."
And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And it was a good animal. And God was pleased. And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam & he wagged his tail.
And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom & I cannot think of a name for this new animal."
And God said, "No problem! Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG."
And Dog lived with Adam & was a companion to him & loved him. And Adam was comforted. And God was pleased. And Dog was content & wagged his tail.
After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to the Lord & said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts & preens like a peacock & he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well."
And the Lord said, "No problem! I will create for him a companion who will be with him forever & who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he is not always worthy of adoration."
And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not obey Adam. And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Adam learned humility.
And God was pleased. And Adam was greatly improved. And Dog was happy.
And Cat didn't care one way or the other.
Annon.
Instructions For Cats.
When playing games with your own kittens, let them get the better of you.
When playing games with someone else`s kittens, beat them up.
Climb the living room curtains to develop upper-
body strength.
Unknown |
