Cats and other pets that are cats

[Ello Sailor]

Once at our old house he threw a mouse like a football and I managed to get a pic.

I'm sorry mouse lovers, but this shit is hilarious.

[B]

I have a foster cat, and I hate it.

[LoathedVermin72]

I love cats very, very much. My cat is named Ozma and I’ve had her for about 15 years. She’s lived with my wife and I in every home we’ve ever lived in since we’ve been on our own. To be brutally honest I think I love her more than my parents or siblings.

When she dies, it’s going to be deeply devastating to me. I’ve had cats my whole life but I doubt I’ll ever get another after her. She’s irreplaceable.

[Jorge]

Cats are great!

[spike]

I guess I just assumed trag kept a tidy house and lawn, but nope.

[coptheriotact]

I love cats very, very much. My cat is named Ozma and I’ve had her for about 15 years. She’s lived with my wife and I in every home we’ve ever lived in since we’ve been on our own. To be brutally honest I think I love her more than my parents or siblings.

When she dies, it’s going to be deeply devastating to me. I’ve had cats my whole life but I doubt I’ll ever get another after her. She’s irreplaceable.

I feel similar, but I will always get new cats as we spoil them, and more cats deserve to live in our cat resort (aka my house)

[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]

I guess I just assumed trag kept a tidy house and lawn, but nope.

My house is immaculate for about four hours after our cleaning girl leaves every other Friday

I feel seen.

[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]

I guess I just assumed trag kept a tidy house and lawn, but nope.

My house is immaculate for about four hours after our cleaning girl leaves every other Friday

I feel seen.

That four-hour rush of order and power is something else though

So good. I’m gonna run the Roomba now.

[wease]

My new executive assistant.

[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.

[Jorge]

Aww. Very cute

[knee tunes]

I know a cat named Greg?

[Higgs]

[washing machine]

Happy National Cat Day, everyone

[wease]

Hell yes wease. What’s her name and how are the dogs taking to her ?

Faye

One dog, the oldest, could care less about her. The youngest wants her to play! But he’s still 3-4 times her size. The biggest doesn’t seem to have any feeling one way or the other.

Neither of the other 2 cats like her but one of them will at least let us bring her around her so they can sniff each other out. The other cat hisses and moves on.

[wease]

Check this out. After 12 years, Penny has decided to be a mouser



Apparently she doesn’t like the head or tail, tho.

[Rangi Guy]

Oh hey - we got two new kittens on Saturday. So far they just spend there days chasing each other around and beating the shit out of each other. Our dog is still scared of them

[spike]

Check this out. After 12 years, Penny has decided to be a mouser



Apparently she doesn’t like the head or tail, tho.

Weren’t you one of the guys giving me shit about posting a frozen fox?