molter@eosp1.UUCP (Larry Molter) (03/12/84)
- Our male cat, when the food in his dish isn't up to his specifications, paws at the side of the washing machine in what looks like an effort to 'bury' the 'crap' in the dish. Of course, my wife immediately changes his food to something that he loves. Works every time. "Boy, do they have US trained". Larry
wetcw@pyuxa.UUCP (T C Wheeler) (03/12/84)
Well now, since we are into nutty cat stories, let me tell you about Ludwig, my half Russian Blue and American shorthair (alley-cat). The crazy cat must have had a streak of Indian Fishing Cat in him as he loved water. His favorite sport was to sneak into the bathroom while the tub was filling for a bath and jump in. When you came in, he would be sitting there washing himself in your bathwater. If you managed to keep him out while you filled the tub, he would wait by the door, and if someone opened it, he would take a flying leap and land in the tub with you. On rainy days, he would go outside and find the deepest puddle he could and sit in it, happy as a clam. I have often found him in a deep puddle with just his head sticking out of the water. No amount of coaxing will get him out either. Another favorite trick was to climb into the bathroom sink, scrunch down enough to block the drain, and wait until the ever-leaking faucet filled the bowl around him and ran out the overflow. He would finally tire of this, jump down, and race into the living room looking like a drowned rat, and plop himself on the couch, or me, to dry himself. Ludwig had a wicker bed with a pillow in the living room where he never slept, but kept his collection of toys. The damn crazy cat would go over and pick out a toy, play with it awhile, then when he was finished with the toy, PUT IT BACK IN THE BED. Honest folks, we never had to pick up after the cat. His best friend in the world was a huge Dalmation dog who lived in the next Apartment building. The dog would be let out and it would come over to our side and bark until the cat came out. As soon as the cat would hear the dog, he would put up a fuss to get out. They would hang around the neighborhood like a couple of kids, playing chase and hide-and-go seek, and other nutty things. They would even chase other cats or dogs that strayed into their little empire. I think old Ludwig had a sadistic streak in him though. He would hide in the bushes or under parked cars and wait until some poor little old lady would walk by with one of those little dogs like a Peakenise or Hairless. As soon as they got by where he was hiding, he would jump out with a great growl and pounce on the poor unsuspecting pooch, terrorizing it into heart failure, then tear off before the lady could swat him. After awhile, all of the little old ladies took to carrying their dogs past our apartment building for fear of that mean gray cat that always lurked there. One final story. Ludwig was very proud of his voice and loved to sit in the tiled bathroom and give voice to his voice. He would sit in the bathtub and howl and growl in 20 different voices. We had to keep throwing him out of there on some days. I thought it was funny as hell, but the neighbors weren't too appreciative of his talents. I could go on with dozens of Ludwig stories, all true, but I better get out of here. I sure miss Ludwig. He was 9 when he died. T. C. Wheeler