Talk about your day thread

[Higgs]

first time dog owner here

the potty training is a huge pain in the ass and very frustrating at times but i have never owned or been around a cat that gave 1/100th the affection that bogey gives day in and day out. the greetings i get when i get home work are amazing. our walks around the neighbor hood are fun filled and the fact that he follows me to bed and snuggles at my feet and throughout the night works his way up to cuddling my chest when i wake up is more than anything a cat does.

Glad for you but my cat does all that stuff too

Do you have fun filled walks around the neighbourhood with your cat trag?

[Jorge]

Cats were not genetically bred to adore humans like dogs were, but they can be extremely affectionate. My cat is an absolute sweetheart.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Like, on a leash?

[Higgs]

first time dog owner here

the potty training is a huge pain in the ass and very frustrating at times but i have never owned or been around a cat that gave 1/100th the affection that bogey gives day in and day out. the greetings i get when i get home work are amazing. our walks around the neighbor hood are fun filled and the fact that he follows me to bed and snuggles at my feet and throughout the night works his way up to cuddling my chest when i wake up is more than anything a cat does.

Glad for you but my cat does all that stuff too

Do you have fun filled walks around the neighbourhood with your cat trag?

Literally every morning (so long as it's not snowing)

Like with a leash?

[Jorge]

Like, with the use of a leash?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[The Argonaut]

Do you worry that your cat will be hurt out there in the big cruel world, or that your cat is killing too many birds? I'm not saying cats shouldn't be free to roam, but I do know that we had a ton of cats growing up that came and went as they pleased and the ratio of cats that died in old age to the cats that died young is not a feel-good story.
If I go through the cats of my childhood:

Maui, female, died of old age.

Lulu, female, died of old age.

Fosdick, male, hit by a car once and his legs shattered, later died of cancer, relatively young.

Hiji, male, bled to death after being caught in an illegal bear trap in our neighbor's woods (the bear trap really angered my neighbor, someone was trying to catch rabbits or something).

Fog, female, disappeared one day, suspected of having jumped onto a maple truck.

Vanilla, female, disappeared with Fog.

Baby, female, ate one of the parakeets and we ended up giving her to a farmer in another town.

Tuey, female, decided to go live with the hermit guy down the street instead of with us. She never really liked us or the other cats or the farm cats next door, so when the hermit guy came and asked my parents if it was OK if Tuey came and lived with him, even if it meant she'd become a full-time indoor cat, they assented.

Lookout, male, hit by multiple cars. His favorite pastime was to wait by the side of the road and then run out when a car came. So it was no surprise when our vet called and said that someone had brought in Lookout, dead, after they hit him with their car. The surprise came at Lookout's funeral when my father insisted on opening the funeral shroud despite my mother's protestations that a dead cat hit by a car was sure to be a gruesome sight, inappropriate for children. The dead cat was not Lookout, who returned home alive a few days later. Died in old age, fat and kind of sad, of bladder cancer.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[The Argonaut]

What's wrong with the name Fosdick. Fearless Fosdick, of comic fame.

[Jorge]

I did not enjoy reading that detailed account of dead cats

[The Argonaut]

It's hard out there for country cats. Lookout lost half his ear once in a fight with a farm cat

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[The Argonaut]

Maui was named that because she meowed. She was adopted by my parents after her prior owners stuffed her in our mailbox with a note: "If you love her so much, why don't you keep her?"

Lulu, her daughter, is short for Honolulu, another Hawaiian name.

Fosdick, Lulu's son, named for Fearless Fosdick of comic fame. We had a Fearless Fosdick ad for Wildroot Cream Oil hung in our bathroom when I was a kid.

Vanilla, farm cat, started hanging out with us and having litters at our house, named for Vanilla Ice of nineties fame. My sister and I agreed on the name. The others are (IIRC) all her children.

Fog, named for her grey color.

Baby, named because she was a baby when she was born.

Hiji, named for the Japanese word for 'elbow'. My sister and I were taking Aikido lessons at the time.

Tuey, short for Talkatoo, named for a character in the children's television show Zoobilee Zoo.

Lookout, named for another character from Zoobilee Zoo. I chose his name.

[E.H. Ruddock]

I had a cat named Maui!

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[BurtReynolds]

I crazy hick shot my dog when I was a teenager. He later murdered a guy. Hopefully he's still rotting in prison. He deserves it for shooting my dog.

[The Argonaut]

I had a cat named Maui!

woot. Cute name for a cat

[Jorge]

I crazy hick shot my dog when I was a teenager. He later murdered a guy. Hopefully he's still rotting in prison.

Because of the typo, up until this point I thought this was a story about how you (as a crazy teenage hick) shot your dog, who survived the ordeal and went on to murder a guy and get arrested

[The Argonaut]

I crazy hick shot my dog when I was a teenager. He later murdered a guy. Hopefully he's still rotting in prison.

Because of the typo, up until this point I thought this was a story about how you (as a crazy teenage hick) shot your dog, who survived the ordeal and went on to murder a guy and get arrested

I was also troubled by this story at first