Cat

Weather Predicting Cat

We had a wonderful yellow cat for quite a few years. He was an indoor/ outdoor cat by choice. Nearly grown when he came to us, he made his own decisions. We fed him indoors, hoping he’d accommodate us into his plans. Though he was polite enough not to eat and run, after a good meal and nap, he made it clear he had business outdoors as evening approached. His habits didn’t alter

even when he did. He was quite a hunter, bringing us gifts of mice, moles, and other small critters regularly. Because he refused our efforts domesticity, I didn’t feel the big fe, nor wishing to aid and abet him in their slaughter. As h aged, he spent more and more time outdoors. We did come to rely on his weather reports. Without fail, he’d come in before storms and bitter weather. Taking his ease on a pillow near the fire, he’d visit for the duration, taking his leave when the weather improved. He was always polite and friendly, but always made it clear his visits were that and nothing more.

Very Best Cat Memes

Exploring Nature: Our Cat’s Hunting Tales

We live on a two acre tree-covered lot. It slopes down to a wet-weather creek. The creek flows much of the year. As a result, we are well-supplied with water-loving creatures: frogs, snakes, and mosquitoes. We keep it free of overgrowth, but we don’t hang around out there.

That brings me to our black cat, Socks. He was a sweetheart, regularly gifting us with mice, moles, and the occasional snake. We soon learned not to automatically open the door without d checking to see what gift he be bearing.

Socks particularly liked hunting snakes. He’d make for the creek, seeking them out, turning over, rocks, and branches, slapping at the water. His encounters weren’t happenstance. From a distance, you tell when he found his prey. He’d go from stalking to attack in seconds,

Most often, he’d fare well, bringing a floppy snake to play with. Twice he went missing for about three days, finally returning with a softball-sized head and healing fang -marks. He’d keep close to home for a few days before returning to to hunt.

Sadly, after a few years, Socks went missing, presumably suffering a fatal snake encounter.

How the Cat Taught Me to Make the Bed

Mother always stayed on me about making my bed.  I was a bonafide lazy kid, intent on getting loud without doing it.  It just wasn’t on my priority list.  Sadly, Mother usually caught me and sent me back to do it. I knew better than to lie. Despite her nagging,  I hadn’t internalized the need to make my bed at that point.

One morning, she had multiple catastrophes allowing me to slip out.  I sloppily pulled my covers up, pulled the door behind me and escaped, unaware I’d shut the cat in my room.  He snuggled into the warm spot I’d left and settled in for a nice nice nap.  I suppose he yowled later in the day and Mother let him out.

When I got in bed that night, I lifted the covers and slid between the sheets in one swift move, encountering a cold,slimy sensation from knee to thigh.  When I hopped out of bed, I found a soupy poop surprise the cat smeared on my leg.  It was horrible and felt like it couldn’t’ t be washed off.  It changed my attitude about bed making forever.  The cat knew how to motivate

Tough Cat

Ol’ Tom lived back in the good old days and had the run of the farm and only God knows how many wooded acres. Since he was intact, he often took leaves of absence to exercise his tom-catting. Sometimes he’d be gone as much as three months, then show up skinny, battered, and exhausted for some much needed rest and relaxation. With his tattered ears and many scars, he wasn’t handsome but it didn’t seem to effect his social life.

Tom and the dogs ignored each other except at feeding time. Daddy had several dogs and dispensed food in several receptacles to prevent fighting. I don’t mean dishes, I mean old hubcaps, old pots and pans, or bucket lids. Daddy made the dogs stand back till all the dishes were filled, then gave the signal “Ok!” The ravenous dogs fell to eating and never left a scrap.

Tom took command when he was home. Once the “ dog dishes” were filled, he took his pick. The older, wiser dogs stepped back till Ol’ Tom had his fill. A foolish dog might threaten him, once. Tom would calmly reach out and hook the dog’s tender nose, holding the poor animal captive at paw’s length till he ate his fill. At Tom’s convenience, he’d retract the claw and saunter off. It never took a dog but one lesson to respect Tom.