Thread: Tell me about your pet(s)

I wish I had a Pic of my Dog, Bandit ( Woohoo, Origiinal names.). =(

Hes a Black&White Pomeranian(?) His brother Sparky ( All Golden, with a Bit of white on his paws) Died A year ago. We think The doberman Killed him. o___o;. TOld my parents not to put him int hat damn cage with those dogs.

By the way, I don't care what anyone says, in My opinion, Most muts make MUCH better pets that Full breed. I think they look cuter too. ^_^

A pic of Jack.

seems like there are 14 pet threads already, but meh whatever

here are the 3 freeloaders that live with us

this is my cat Gandalf, as he prepares for Halloween. it's only photoshopped slightly (note the eyes and the teeth). he is a ham for the camera. i have tons of photos of him, but this is the only one i have at work.



in the original, before i PS'd it, he is laying flat on his back. that's his most favorite position, with all four legs spread-eagle. he's a weird cat.

I have a grey medium poodle, he is nine I have him since a kid, trained him when I was a kid so I'd think thats whats special about him, not like all the other dogs on this neighboorhood that keep barking all night , also when I take him out old people really like to pet him and ask me to mate him with theirs(lol) but it has got him more than 25 puppies, If I get a hold of a camera I'll post a pic later

Originally posted by kage23+--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE(kage23)</div>

this is my cat Gandalf, as he prepares for Halloween. it's only photoshopped slightly (note the eyes and the teeth). he is a ham for the camera. i have tons of photos of him, but this is the only one i have at work.

in the original, before i PS'd it, he is laying flat on his back. that's his most favorite position, with all four legs spread-eagle. he's a weird cat.[/b]

Your photo didn't come through for some reason... I like the name Gandalf for a cat, though! Try to get the pic working - I'd like to see him.

Originally posted by Forsaken Exposition+--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE(Forsaken Exposition)</div>

I wish I had a Pic of my Dog, Bandit ( Woohoo, Origiinal names.). =( *

Hes a Black&White Pomeranian(?) His brother Sparky ( All Golden, with a Bit of white on his paws) Died A year ago. We think The doberman Killed him. o___o;. TOld my parents not to put him int hat damn cage with those dogs. * *

By the way, I don't care what anyone says, in My opinion, Most muts make MUCH better pets that Full breed. I think they look cuter too. ^_^[/b]

Sorry to hear about Sparky - what happened to him? Why was he in a cage with a doberman?

I agree that most mutt-dogs have a more even temperment than most pure-breeds. Instead of all the good and bad characteristics of a pure-bred, with a mutt you get mostly all the positive characteristics of a variety of breeds rolled into one. They make the best pets usually, and it feels good to rescue a mutt.

<!--QuoteBegin-Sortilegio@
I have a grey medium poodle, he is nine I have him since a kid, trained him when I was a kid so I'd think thats whats special about him, not like all the other dogs on this neighboorhood that keep barking all night * *, also when I take him out old people really like to pet him and ask me to mate him with theirs(lol) but it has got him more than 25 puppies, If I get a hold of a camera I'll post a pic later *

Do you have him all groomed up like a traditional poodle? Usually their hair requires a lot of maintenence to keep it from matting. Post a picture later if you think about!

<!--QuoteBegin-OpheliaBlue
seems like there are 14 pet threads already, but meh whatever.

here are the 3 freeloaders that live with us.

They are so cute! I have a particular soft spot for kitties since I work at a cat-only hospital. From the picture, they all look like males - except maybe the flame point cat in the middle could be female... Let me know! I always like trying to guess the sex just by looking at them. Anyway, sorry to create another pet post - I must not have been around for the other ones, or missed them somehow. Thanks for posting that picture, anyway - very sweet.

Originally posted by burns91
Your photo didn't come through for some reason... I like the name Gandalf for a cat, though! Try to get the pic working - I'd like to see him.

that's weird, it worked fine on my machine. anyway, here's a link.

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f81/Zomb...mpire_kitty.jpg

let me know if the link won't work for you. maybe i can email it to you or something.

Originally posted by kage23


that's weird, it worked fine on my machine. anyway, here's a link.

http://img250.imageshack.us/img250/6325/va...rekitty26hg.jpg

let me know if the link won't work for you. maybe i can email it to you or something.

Nope, still won't work. That's really strange. It just comes up as a little box with a red X - I right-clicked to Show Picture, but it still wouldn't. Hmmm...

Originally posted by OpheliaBlue
seems like there are 14 pet threads already, but meh whatever

I thought this wouldn't be the first time this had been done. Someone should just sticky one like how the "pictures of yourself" thread was.

Originally posted by burns91
Nope, still won't work. That's really strange. It just comes up as a little box with a red X - I right-clicked to Show Picture, but it still wouldn't. Hmmm...

Try it again. I uploaded the image to a different host and I edited my original post and the one where I posted the URL and put the new URL into both of them. So if it still doesn't work, I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you.

By the way, in case you don\'t want to go looking for my other posts, here\'s the URL: http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f81/Zomb...mpire_kitty.jpg

I have 4 dogs but my husband says that one doesn't count as a whole dog as she's only 5 pounds..

Brianna is a 13 year old Bichon Frise.
Bijoux is a 1 year old Bichon Frise.
Bishop is a 6 month old Bichon Frise.. notice a pattern here??
and..
Jasmine a 6 month old MaltiPoo... (hey they can't all be Bichons whose names begin with a "B").

Funny pet stories.. well, I got Bijoux as a companion for Brianna whose sister died last year and she can't stand him!!
After he continually tried to "ride" her around the room, she would look at me as if to say
"Look, I'm too old for this nonsense and I could have happily lived out the rest of my days ALONE!"

They are ALL fixed now and the one they fear most is Jasmine (she may be small but she don't take no sh*t!)! LOL!!

Something is wrong here.

The page runs off the side of the screen.

Just this page.

This is my 'Bloggie the Cat' Story. as an intro, Bloggie is a feral cat from one of my outdoor feral feeding stations. Bloggie and her daughter Kitcat are the first ferals that I have been able to socialize to the point where I can pick them up and kiss them without worrying of getting my lips ripped off. But that was well after the events of this following story:

Bloggie’s Story: Her Near Death Experience

I don’t know where they came from. Or maybe I do. Several years back there had been a small kink-tailed cross-eyed Siamese female, a real nervous thing, whom I called Tailtail. The last I saw of her was when she was pregnant. I had always assumed that she must have died while giving birth and that her litter died with her. But perhaps she just moved further down the road, and when things became crowded down there, some of her kittens wondered back in my direction.

They were mixed Siamese. One was almost white and so I called her Whitey, which after a few weeks came to be more like Whoggie, and the other was more blotchy and so I called her Blotchy but after a few weeks it was more like Bloggie.

Oh, they were mean kitties, very disruptive at the feeding stations. Charging in hissing and spitting and driving the other cats away… yes, a lot the same way as Tailtail had behaved. Anyway, I adjusted the feeding stations somewhat… moving around the piles of food and was able to soon accommodate everybody, including Whoggie and Bloggie.

They soon knew how important I was to the operation and they tracked me down to my apartment. Oh, this allows me to make this one observation. When one first makes the acquaintance of a Feral Cat they require a great deal of distance in order to feel safe. About a stone’s throw when one first meets a cat. But as the relationship continues and they are not harmed in any way, then they are comfortable in allowing you to get closer. One can use this phenomena in order to regulate the Feeding Stations, as one can block out the more recent arrivals by simply standing there, while the more established kitties can walk past to go to the feeding stations. But up on the Apartment Balconies the comfort distance can be problematic. Although the walkway is 4 feet wide, if the cats comfort distance is seven feet, then it can’t go around and needs to find another stairway at the other end of the building. So, here I often use communication and compromise. I tell them ‘okay, okay’ and then I face the wall and close my eyes, blocking them with my hands. Sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn’t. But both Bloggie and Whoggie were as smart as they were mean, and when I opened my eyes, I found they had darted past. You know, keeping such a great distance is as inconvenient for them as it is for me, and so as they find that I am no immediate threat to their life and limb, then they soon settle to the point where they only wish to keep out of my direct reach. Well, except for a few of the kitties that have know me all their lives and or a few Tomcats who are exceptionally brave who allow me to give them a welcoming thump or two.

Whoggie was actually meaner than Bloggie. There last days as mean little kittens went by quickly and they became mean little sexually active young female adults and became pregnant. Bloggie got a little bit bigger, but Whoggie became huge. Then one day Whoggie stopped coming around. They do go into hiding for awhile when they finally have their litters, but after a few days they come around for a much needed bite to eat. But Whoggie never re-appeared, like Tailtail before. But Bloggie continued to report to both Feeding Station One and Feeding Station Two, to eat a little something, but more it seemed to disrupt things. I actually started bringing a squirt bottle to control her, which worked for about a week before she realized that the water was not exactly killing her.

Then one day I noticed that although she was following me from one Station to the other, she was eating at neither. I at first thought that she was taking a nibble but eating the bulk of the food throughout the day – not very likely for a girl that usually would eat like a little pig, but it was possible, as a few of the cats eat only a little at a time, being confident that the food won’t immediately disappear. But then, after a few days of this odd behavior I noticed that Bloggie, coming when she heard my Wild Animal Call, inadvertently fell over into a ditch. And I laughed. I didn’t like her and was happy to see her trip and fall. But then my brow creased and it occurred to me that she could not possibly be okay. A cat of her athleticism and intelligence – the same cat that would dash in front of me on a narrow balcony because I turned my back and closed my eyes, this same cat would never trip into a ditch. So I approached her and saw that her mouth was partially open and that her chin dripped with saliva. Oh my God, it was a haunting reminder of when the first family cat of my youth had come home with her jaw broken. I would have taken her to the Animal Hospital, but you need to remember, that these cats are Ferals. One cannot just reach down and pick them up. They are wild animals and they make it one of their most important priorities to stay out of human reach. So I didn’t even consider trying to catch Bloggie. Heck! Just the last week I was squirting her with a water bottle… she was not going to let me get close enough to grab her. And then, that mean little thing, well, she frightens me. She’d tear me apart!

Anyway, that particular predisposition probably blinded me somewhat to the actual details of the situation. First, she was beginning to follow me everywhere, even as she weakened from her inability to eat. And she was following closely. I simply didn’t notice that she had drastically closed in her comfort distance.

But though I was being particularly blunt in my capacity to observe, her proximity was doing a great deal to erode my dislike for her. It is hard to hate a cat that walks at your side.

Anyway, it had been a week since I noticed the problem, and it could have been longer, and she was getting emaciated and weak. I honestly thought she had only a day or two left to live. So it was late afternoon and I thought of her and decided to clear my schedule and go outside… she would be just outside the door and so she would not be hard to find… and I would sit with her and try to make her last hours a bit more pleasant. So I went out and she followed me to this nice secluded log in a peaceful little jungle arbor and I began to sing her a simple kitty song – the “I Love You, You’re So Good” song (you can guess the words). Then it occurred to me. I saw the light of the situation. There she was sitting at my feet. Close enough to touch. And she was so weak, it was a real possibility that she could die in the next five minutes. Of course, I could catch her. I looked at my watch and saw I could get her to the Animal Hospital before closing if I didn’t waste a moment. “Wait her”, I told her. And went back to my apartment and grabbed a Snake Stick I had fashioned out of a broom handle and a kitty leash, and the cage. I clumsily missed the first several passes but it seemed like Bloggie was as determined to be caught as I was to catch her and she almost forced her own little head into the noose so that we would not be late for Hospital Check In.

I had to leave her overnight, but I was there bright and early the next morning, and the Doctor saw me and called me over. She had already looked Bloggie over, and before I could begin conjecturing about broken jaws or poisonings, she reached into her lab-coat pocket and pulled out this little package and shock out this small object and said, “Maybe this bone caught in her teeth may have had something to do with her not being able to eat.” I was so happy! But the Doctor was puzzled that Bloggie hadn’t begun to eat yet. But Bloggie was being given intravenous fluids and she supposed Bloggie’s appetite would soon return. Well, I left to go shopping and told the Doctor I would be back later, when a thought occurred to me and I did a U-turn in traffic and was back in the Hospital Offices within a few minutes. I told the Doctor to “Watch this”. I let out my less loud version of my Wild Animal Call, and threw a handful of kibble on the floor of Bloggie’s cage and she jumped up and began wolfing it down. I told the Doctor that feral cats don’t know what food dishes are and so Bloggie didn’t even know food was in her cage, not with all of the hospital smells masking the odor of food she had never eaten before. I had volunteered with this Doctor before with socialization cases and quarantines which lends some context to what she said. She said, “Now I know why those cats like you so much.” I had been stupid throughout this entire situation, so I was glad that my brain had finally kicked in.

But Bloggie would stay in the Hospital for a few more days. While we had her, we would let her get some of her strength back, and then spay her. As I told about earlier, with Bloggie in the Hospital, her kittens that I had not even known about came out of the Jungle to find her, but that would be their story. Bloggie would recover, first into a healthy and svelte Siamese with a body quality almost worthy of a show cat (while nothing could ever be done for her ‘blotchy’ coat). But now, she is maturing to the point where she is actually a little on the side of being radiantly plump.

You know, looking back over the entire story of her Near Death Experience, it occurs to me to wonder how she seemed to know that I was in a position of being able to help her. I had been hostile to her, and she had been feeding at my stations not so much as a welcome guest but more with the consciousness of being a raider and a thief. But when she needed help, she camped out at my door and became my shadow. Have the Domestic Felines been symbiotically related to the Human Species for so long now, that it has become part of their instincts to go to People when they need help? It would seem so.

Pets eh? Well here on the farm we have:

26,000 Poll Merino sheep

3,000 head of Murray Grey cattle

2,500 head of Angus cattle

and five dogs


The sheep are outrageous, we shear em every year and produce wool so fine you could knit your underwear from it, recently won first prize in the ultra-fine wool section of the Australian Fleece competition. Sheep are simply they best, no arguments.

The cattle... welll... they're nice. They make me hungry when I look at them, they're curious but seem to take great delight in smashing things to pieces... "oh look, here's a water trough with no water in it, maybe if we wreck it it might give us some water". I don't have much to do with the cattle, prefer working with sheep but I had to help out calf-marking a while ago. The Murray Grey cattle aren't too much trouble, a little stubborn but the Angus... well the only way to describe em is Mad Bastards... try being in a five metre square pen with an Angus mother while you try and seperate her calf NOT FUN. I was in the race trying to hunt up all the calves and they took great delight in kicking the shit out of me, makes you wonder why you bother somtimes, but we were cutting off their balls so I guess they were getting their own back.

As for the dogs we've got four work-dogs and one fat black lab house dog that does nothing but catch mice. One of the work dogs is retired now which is kinda sad cuz she still wants to go to work and chase sheep around all day (a dog's paradise) but she's getting too old and we're gunna have to shoot her soon. In the meantime she gets to sleep inside by the fire hehe.

Best bit about the farm is the sheep, I love working with em and helping out with shearing and the smell of wool etc... growing up on the farm with so many animals gives you a different perspective of life though, you see animals being born and animals dying which kind of grounds you I guess. We eat mutton from the farm which means we kill and cut up the sheep etc all ourselves which is much different from just buying it from the supermarket in gladwrap, but I'm glad for it.

As for the names of the sheep and cattle, I couldn't honestly tell you off the top of my head haha. 8)

Originally posted by Leo Volont
This is my 'Bloggie the Cat' Story. as an intro, Bloggie is a feral cat from one of my outdoor feral feeding stations. Bloggie and her daughter Kitcat are the first ferals that I have been able to socialize to the point where I can pick them up and kiss them without worrying of getting my lips ripped off. But that was well after the events of this following story:

Bloggie’s Story: Her Near Death Experience

I don’t know where they came from. Or maybe I do. Several years back there had been a small kink-tailed cross-eyed Siamese female, a real nervous thing, whom I called Tailtail. The last I saw of her was when she was pregnant. I had always assumed that she must have died while giving birth and that her litter died with her. But perhaps she just moved further down the road, and when things became crowded down there, some of her kittens wondered back in my direction.

They were mixed Siamese. One was almost white and so I called her Whitey, which after a few weeks came to be more like Whoggie, and the other was more blotchy and so I called her Blotchy but after a few weeks it was more like Bloggie.

Oh, they were mean kitties, very disruptive at the feeding stations. Charging in hissing and spitting and driving the other cats away… yes, a lot the same way as Tailtail had behaved. Anyway, I adjusted the feeding stations somewhat… moving around the piles of food and was able to soon accommodate everybody, including Whoggie and Bloggie.

They soon knew how important I was to the operation and they tracked me down to my apartment. Oh, this allows me to make this one observation. When one first makes the acquaintance of a Feral Cat they require a great deal of distance in order to feel safe. About a stone’s throw when one first meets a cat. But as the relationship continues and they are not harmed in any way, then they are comfortable in allowing you to get closer. One can use this phenomena in order to regulate the Feeding Stations, as one can block out the more recent arrivals by simply standing there, while the more established kitties can walk past to go to the feeding stations. But up on the Apartment Balconies the comfort distance can be problematic. Although the walkway is 4 feet wide, if the cats comfort distance is seven feet, then it can’t go around and needs to find another stairway at the other end of the building. So, here I often use communication and compromise. I tell them ‘okay, okay’ and then I face the wall and close my eyes, blocking them with my hands. Sometimes this works, and sometimes it doesn’t. But both Bloggie and Whoggie were as smart as they were mean, and when I opened my eyes, I found they had darted past. You know, keeping such a great distance is as inconvenient for them as it is for me, and so as they find that I am no immediate threat to their life and limb, then they soon settle to the point where they only wish to keep out of my direct reach. Well, except for a few of the kitties that have know me all their lives and or a few Tomcats who are exceptionally brave who allow me to give them a welcoming thump or two.

Whoggie was actually meaner than Bloggie. There last days as mean little kittens went by quickly and they became mean little sexually active young female adults and became pregnant. Bloggie got a little bit bigger, but Whoggie became huge. Then one day Whoggie stopped coming around. They do go into hiding for awhile when they finally have their litters, but after a few days they come around for a much needed bite to eat. But Whoggie never re-appeared, like Tailtail before. But Bloggie continued to report to both Feeding Station One and Feeding Station Two, to eat a little something, but more it seemed to disrupt things. I actually started bringing a squirt bottle to control her, which worked for about a week before she realized that the water was not exactly killing her.

Then one day I noticed that although she was following me from one Station to the other, she was eating at neither. I at first thought that she was taking a nibble but eating the bulk of the food throughout the day – not very likely for a girl that usually would eat like a little pig, but it was possible, as a few of the cats eat only a little at a time, being confident that the food won’t immediately disappear. But then, after a few days of this odd behavior I noticed that Bloggie, coming when she heard my Wild Animal Call, inadvertently fell over into a ditch. And I laughed. I didn’t like her and was happy to see her trip and fall. But then my brow creased and it occurred to me that she could not possibly be okay. A cat of her athleticism and intelligence – the same cat that would dash in front of me on a narrow balcony because I turned my back and closed my eyes, this same cat would never trip into a ditch. So I approached her and saw that her mouth was partially open and that her chin dripped with saliva. Oh my God, it was a haunting reminder of when the first family cat of my youth had come home with her jaw broken. I would have taken her to the Animal Hospital, but you need to remember, that these cats are Ferals. One cannot just reach down and pick them up. They are wild animals and they make it one of their most important priorities to stay out of human reach. So I didn’t even consider trying to catch Bloggie. Heck! Just the last week I was squirting her with a water bottle… she was not going to let me get close enough to grab her. And then, that mean little thing, well, she frightens me. She’d tear me apart!

Anyway, that particular predisposition probably blinded me somewhat to the actual details of the situation. First, she was beginning to follow me everywhere, even as she weakened from her inability to eat. And she was following closely. I simply didn’t notice that she had drastically closed in her comfort distance.

But though I was being particularly blunt in my capacity to observe, her proximity was doing a great deal to erode my dislike for her. It is hard to hate a cat that walks at your side.

Anyway, it had been a week since I noticed the problem, and it could have been longer, and she was getting emaciated and weak. I honestly thought she had only a day or two left to live. So it was late afternoon and I thought of her and decided to clear my schedule and go outside… she would be just outside the door and so she would not be hard to find… and I would sit with her and try to make her last hours a bit more pleasant. So I went out and she followed me to this nice secluded log in a peaceful little jungle arbor and I began to sing her a simple kitty song – the “I Love You, You’re So Good” song (you can guess the words). Then it occurred to me. I saw the light of the situation. There she was sitting at my feet. Close enough to touch. And she was so weak, it was a real possibility that she could die in the next five minutes. Of course, I could catch her. I looked at my watch and saw I could get her to the Animal Hospital before closing if I didn’t waste a moment. “Wait her”, I told her. And went back to my apartment and grabbed a Snake Stick I had fashioned out of a broom handle and a kitty leash, and the cage. I clumsily missed the first several passes but it seemed like Bloggie was as determined to be caught as I was to catch her and she almost forced her own little head into the noose so that we would not be late for Hospital Check In.

I had to leave her overnight, but I was there bright and early the next morning, and the Doctor saw me and called me over. She had already looked Bloggie over, and before I could begin conjecturing about broken jaws or poisonings, she reached into her lab-coat pocket and pulled out this little package and shock out this small object and said, “Maybe this bone caught in her teeth may have had something to do with her not being able to eat.” I was so happy! But the Doctor was puzzled that Bloggie hadn’t begun to eat yet. But Bloggie was being given intravenous fluids and she supposed Bloggie’s appetite would soon return. Well, I left to go shopping and told the Doctor I would be back later, when a thought occurred to me and I did a U-turn in traffic and was back in the Hospital Offices within a few minutes. I told the Doctor to “Watch this”. I let out my less loud version of my Wild Animal Call, and threw a handful of kibble on the floor of Bloggie’s cage and she jumped up and began wolfing it down. I told the Doctor that feral cats don’t know what food dishes are and so Bloggie didn’t even know food was in her cage, not with all of the hospital smells masking the odor of food she had never eaten before. I had volunteered with this Doctor before with socialization cases and quarantines which lends some context to what she said. She said, “Now I know why those cats like you so much.” I had been stupid throughout this entire situation, so I was glad that my brain had finally kicked in.

But Bloggie would stay in the Hospital for a few more days. While we had her, we would let her get some of her strength back, and then spay her. As I told about earlier, with Bloggie in the Hospital, her kittens that I had not even known about came out of the Jungle to find her, but that would be their story. Bloggie would recover, first into a healthy and svelte Siamese with a body quality almost worthy of a show cat (while nothing could ever be done for her ‘blotchy’ coat). But now, she is maturing to the point where she is actually a little on the side of being radiantly plump.

You know, looking back over the entire story of her Near Death Experience, it occurs to me to wonder how she seemed to know that I was in a position of being able to help her. I had been hostile to her, and she had been feeding at my stations not so much as a welcome guest but more with the consciousness of being a raider and a thief. But when she needed help, she camped out at my door and became my shadow. Have the Domestic Felines been symbiotically related to the Human Species for so long now, that it has become part of their instincts to go to People when they need help? It would seem so.

I loved reading your feral cat story. It was really good, and really well written. Anyway, there used to be a few feral cats that came around our place when my Grandmother lived here. There was a big lady cat that my Grandma named Baby. Eventually, she became pregnant and her kittens would come up with her to eat the food my grandmother sat out for them. She always sat food out for a number of creatures, including a skunk family, a momma and baby raccoon amoung other things. Eventually, these cats became acclimated to my Grandmother through a tedious coaxing process much like the one you described. One day, Baby dissapeared, along with her kittens, except one. The kitten, who was used to my grandmother, continued to come up without her mother and siblings, and eventually it occured to my Grandma that perhaps the cat would do better with a home. Though the kitten was used to being around my Grandmother, it was apparently not used to being caught and kept. Eventually, though it turned out to be a good housecat for my Uncle, who named her Buzz. She has beautiful long multi-colored fur, is one of the smartest cats that I have ever seen and is actually a good housecat.

Anyway, thank you for your story Leo. It was very interesting.

Originally posted by Leo Volont
This is my 'Bloggie the Cat' Story. as an intro, Bloggie is a feral cat from one of my outdoor feral feeding stations. Bloggie and her daughter Kitcat are the first ferals that I have been able to socialize to the point where I can pick them up and kiss them without worrying of getting my lips ripped off. But that was well after the events of this following story: Bloggie’s Story: Her Near Death Experience

Leo, I'm so impressed. First off, most people don't even know what "feral" means. Secondly, most people would never take a feral cat to the hospital for treatment (well, some do, but expect not to have to pay for it). Your story was so touching. I love how Bloggie knew she could trust you and you could help her, even though she was feral. People need to give cats more credit - they think they're stupid, but cats are so intuitive - I hear so many incrediable stories where I work.

So does Bloggie live with you now? Is she still feral? Thanks again for posting that story, Leo.

I miss my cat. In the summer of 2004 we moved to a new house in a different part of town and could not keep our pets. Our dog, Amy, we put down, but she was a black lab mutt and was having hip problems anyway, so we thought it wouldn't be fair to her to have her continue living on in pain.

My cat, however, Monica, lives at my former boyfriend's house, so I can still see her when I come home on vacation. As with all cats, she has a very defined personality and I love her to death! She can be relatively tempramental, though. When she wants to be pet she'll stick with you until you pick her up and pet her, but when she's done, she's done and will walk away. She makes me smile and I really need to scan a more recent photo of her. Here's one from several years ago, though, and she hasn't changed too much.

Originally posted by Amethyst Star
I miss my cat. In the summer of 2004 we moved to a new house in a different part of town and could not keep our pets. Our dog, Amy, we put down, but she was a black lab mutt and was having hip problems anyway, so we thought it wouldn't be fair to her to have her continue living on in pain.

My cat, however, Monica, lives at my former boyfriend's house, so I can still see her when I come home on vacation. As with all cats, she has a very defined personality and I love her to death! She can be relatively tempramental, though. When she wants to be pet she'll stick with you until you pick her up and pet her, but when she's done, she's done and will walk away. She makes me smile and I really need to scan a more recent photo of her. Here's one from several years ago, though, and she hasn't changed too much.

She's very pretty. Unique tortie-point coloring. Sorry you don't get to see her very much - it's very sad to have to give up a pet. About 5 years ago, I had a black cat that I adopted from the humane society that I had to give to a friend because the apartment I was moving into wouldn't allow pets. I tried to sneak her in, but the maintenance men came into the apartment when I wasn't home one day and found her. They told the manager and I had to get rid of her. I don't understand why some places won't allow pets. Small kids do more damage to houses than pets do!

Originally posted by burns91


Leo, I'm so impressed. First off, most people don't even know what "feral" means. Secondly, most people would never take a feral cat to the hospital for treatment (well, some do, but expect not to have to pay for it). Your story was so touching. I love how Bloggie knew she could trust you and you could help her, even though she was feral. People need to give cats more credit - they think they're stupid, but cats are so intuitive - I hear so many incrediable stories where I work.

So does Bloggie live with you now? Is she still feral? Thanks again for posting that story, Leo.

You know, since I told that story, I've been think about how it was that Bloggie knew she could trust me and that I might be able to help her.

It might be because, of all the creatures in the Jungle, I was the only one that was standing up to her and doing things. She really was a mean and nasty, overly aggressive thing, and I was the only one trying to impress her otherwise. And I was the guy bringing the food. I was the guy who would call out in the morning with the Wild Animal Call that would even wake up the roosters and the cocks, and bring all of the other ferals running. I was the Jungle Alpha. I was the only being in her World that could possibly help.

Her real intuition was that she could change me from Enemy to Friend simply by appealing to me. Afterall, I am no Saint Francis. I quite treated her like an intruder... though I did add to the rations once she became a regular.

She is still mean. Her behavior toward her daughter is atrocious. When I brought Kitcat home from the Vet, Bloggie smelled the scent of Medicine on her and refused to recognize her as her own. But I wouldn't stand for it. Every time I caught Bloggie aggressing against her own daughter, I've give her a 'yowl' myself and thump her hard enough to know she's been thumped. She is so mean herself that she accepts a degree of meaness from me without thinking twice. I can swat Bloggie for being mean, and then 10 seconds later pick her up and kiss her -- to her it is all in a day's work. Indeed, as I have consistently stepped in to defend the other cats at the feeding station, Bloggie has become something less aggressive. And regarding her own daughter, now though Bloggie may push and shove, she keeps her claws in and Kitcat doesn't even bother to avoid her Mother -- they are always side by side. They look nothing alike. Bloggie is a blotchie Siamese, and Kitcat is a Red Oriental Spotted Tabby. At the feeding station they have their own 'table' -- I set them up a cinder block which I pour their food on and they eat shoulder to shoulder.

When I wake in the morning, I am met at my door by either Bloggie or Kitcat, but most the time by both of them. Today I gave them a special looking over, and it occurred to me that they are both now about the same size. Bloggie did only have one litter of kittens before I had her 'fixed'... so the mother is not much older than the daughter, and will grow old together being an odd pair of 'best friends'. Bloggie may appear to be aggressive, but now I suspect it isn't much more than 'play'. It even make me laugh sometimes. The other week, Bloggie jumped on her daughters back and put a 'headlock' on her and rode her into the jungle, up on her back... only putting a foot down now and then to maintain balance. Indeed, the interactions have probably been more for Kitcat's benefit. Since she is so accustomed to fielding her own Mean Mother's constant attacks, she is quite at ease with any other Cat in the Jungle. Bloggie the mother is so mean, that if Kitcat is not afraid of her own Mother, well, she is not afraid of anything. And they are both superbly athletic -- a joy to behold.

I would bring Kitcat indoors, but I already have a full house. 4 Cats indoors, and the Politics has only just stabilized. Bringing in a new cat would only set the Politics boiling over again.

A few years ago I had brought in a Feral. Sweeeepeeee -- a silver grey spotted Oriental Tabby. A very gentle and sweet breed (high pitch voice) they love other cats and other cats love them. A mother Spotted Tabby is always willing to adopt motherless kittens, where many of the other breeds are loath to becoming surrogates. But Spotted Tabbies are simply sweet and caring. So, as troublesome as Cat Politics can be in a Multi-cat Household, all the cats get along with Sweeeepeeee the Spotted Oriental Tabby who had once been a Feral.

It was sort of love at first sight with that Sweeeepeeee. I had owned Oriental Spotted Tabbies before and loved the Breed. Then one day I saw this Spotted Kitten up on the dumpster. She was a little Spotted Vision of Loveliness. I never suspected she would ever become one of my indoor cats.

Watching her maturing into a Domestic has been interesting. Picking her up, kissing her, watching her get closer and closer to me while we just sit around. Seeing her ask for more frequent 'quality times' -- it goes slowly, but every month, every year, she is more domestic.

I took her in, with misgivings about her being a Feral, because she was so sweet... and because it was obvious that she was in love with me. She worshipped me. Not only would she wait at my door, but she would follow me around, even if it meant leaving her food behind. She would try to imitate my 'Wild Animal Call', even with her thin high spotted tabby voice. And she was so beautiful a specimen. I had lost a few ferals, and didn't want to lose her, and at the time, there was still room in my house for another cat. She got along well with the other ferals, and the other ferals got along with her, and I suspected my Calico would have the same attitude. It did surprise me that she choose to stay indoors. Some Ferals will plant themselves at the door and demand to go out. She did, once. I let her out. But the next morning she came back in and never wanted out again.

I had gotten her fixed only after she had gone into HEAT. Oh... this was how much the other cats liked her. The Toms that she knew from the Feeding Station when she was a kitten growing up all liked her. Ordinarily, when a dominant and aggressive Tom comes into the territory, the other Toms will let them have their way. Well, that was what they were doing when this one big powerful Tom, I called him 'Languor' came and grabbed hold of Sweeeepeeee by her scruff. Well, all of her friends had been gentle with her, and had let her eat food and drink during the feeding times. But Languor was ignoring the feeding station and was dragging Sweeeepeeee off very roughly. Well, unlike anything I had ever read about in any of the books or seen with my own eyes, all of Sweeeepeeee's Tomcat Friends together interceded for Sweeeepeeee so she could come and eat during feeding time. I had never seen consideration before from Tomcats during a Time in Heat, but there it was -- Tomcats being Gentlemen for Sweeeepeeee.

Well, I was concerned about her having kittens. You know, if an areas gets too many 'boony cats' as the natives call them, and if they are perceived as a nuisance, then there can be a purge with outsiders coming in to 'thin the population'. Well, Sweeeepeeee loved me so much, she was always within reach. So it occurred to me to throw a towel over her head, grab her and put her in a cage. Then when I got her home, I had a choice.... let her go in the house, or let her go outside. I choose the House. She wanted to make the choice herself, and so after insisting I let her go ... to exercise her Free Will, the next morning she came back in.

And she still does love me. The other more domestic cats sit in my lap and crowd me when I am watching TV. But they have all conceded to Sweeeepeeee the Cardboard Box Bed that I have put up on my bed for the Cat that gets to sleep with me -- and that is Sweeeepeeee. At night, when I get up and brush my teeth and get in my bedcloths, she begins to run and dance around -- thrilled with the onset of her favorite evening ritual, she'll jump up on her Quality Time Box on the Bed and rub her mouth on the box's corners -- those subtle scent glands -- and expect her five minutes of being petted, stroked and thumped. the other cats come in to watch, but they never interrupt -- it is her quality time. When I pretend to fall asleep, they come up and begin to groom her too. Everyone loves Sweeeepeeee.

So, where I would say that it is not advisable to ever bring in a Feral from the Wild... this is one of those cases where the Particular over-rules the General .... with an especially sweet feral like Sweeeeepeeee, it worked out.

Here are my other pets - a 16 gallon bow front freshwater aquarium. My current tropical fish include:
3 Red-eye Tetras
2 Bloodfin Tetras
2 Blue Dwarf Gouramis
2 Albino Corydoras
1 Burmese Loach
1 Rubberlip Pleco
1 Ramshorn Snail



Anyone else have a tank?

Man, I wish I had a digital camera. My kitties are so cute. I have two, Molly and Princess. Well actually, it's Miss Molly Mitten Kitten and Princess Meow Meow Sugarbaby. But anyway. Oh, and I used to have a Bichon Poodle named Chester. Chester the Molester. Who took a crap in the backyard one day, turned around, sniffed what he had just crapped out and then proceeded to eat it.

Molly likes q-tips, magazines and anything sticky. Princess likes to be inside plastic bags and acts like she's high on ecstacy when she's cuddling with someone. She will drool all over you if she's content enough.

Oh, and my boyfriend made a balloon costume for Princess and we made her wear it while she ran around the house chasing a laser pointer. I almost peed myself.

And they both refuse to let me do my business in the bathroom unaccompanied. I think they feel it's rude or something.

I've three cats and one dog. The cats' names are Fingus, Vinni, Villi and my dog's is Laser. I live in a village, so it's perfect for animals. Before the cats and the dog lived in the house, but now the cats live in our stable with two horses; the dog live in one room in the house. The reason is that my sister is asthmatic (sp?).

This doesn't make their lives bad, though. The dog is allowed to be outside every day and run; the cats are mostly in the stable sleeping and eating during the winter, but during the summer I let them be outside as long as they wish, so they can hunt birds, mice or whatever they want to do.

That's basicly how they live.


Here's what they are like:
Fingus (my favorite) - very friendly all the time and is always hugging me - on the cat's way - when I visit them; is a bit greedy when it comes to tasty food (and is a bit fat, altough not much); likes to be carried, altough not as much as before; is about 10-12 years and is the other cats' father (not biological) and he is always coming when I call for him - eventually.

Vinni - very friendly but very shy; retarded, even though he's about 6-8 years (this makes me love him even more, and I definately don't want it to change) and afraid and very peaceful (birds scare him and he's friend with our rabbits [in fact, I've heard that he tried to breed with them - or them with him]).

Villi - is friendly but can be pissed off easily; hates to be carried (I always tell him to come instead, instead of carrying him). He isn't tamed yet, since he's only one year old after all.

Laser - very friendly all the time; is unsecure (he gets nervous easily and tries to avoid eye-contact [this is because his previous owner was kicking and hitting him alot]) and he's about 7 years.


Me and my family have had a few cats and dogs before aswell, and I will probably post facts about them later.

Originally posted by burns91
1 Burmese Loach
1 Rubberlip Pleco

Nice, I really want those two fish! Ive seen them before and really liked 'em.

Saddly guys, Jack the turtle died a few days ago. Im not sure why he died but yeah, he's gone. He started becoming really lazy at first. He used to eat anything that moved but when we put food infront of him last time, he just wouldnt eat. Then it looked like he was trying to cough up something and he kept his neck streched out (not normal). When I left that night, he was laying on his log, head up and out of the water with his eyes closed. I asumed he was sleeping or something. The next day my friend calls me and says the turtle is laying on the bottom of the tank, upside down. We dont know exactly what happened but in any case, we put him in a plastic bag and placed him outside to freeze. We'd (I'd) like to keep the shell, maybe bleech it or something. Poor little guy, we gave him a good life though.

Originally posted by will.i.am
Saddly guys, Jack the turtle died a few days ago. Im not sure why he died but yeah, he's gone.

I'm so sorry to hear that.