playgtar
Well-known member
I have Sammy, shes a 17 y/o Beagle mix and Snowshoe a 3 y/o Jack Shit (jack russell/shih zu).
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Badcat
Well-known member
This is Moxie. She is a 5 yr old Russian Blue. Her eyes are vivid green but photgraph yellow.
And this is Quincy, a 4 1/2 yr old Russian Blue. The "Q" cat is very athletic and too smart for his own good.
Patriot
Isabella is Lazarus
time for a bump
TestPilot
Well-known member
Molly, our cross Cocker Spaniel/Minature Poodle (Spoodle):
and in one of her many favourite positions:
and in one of her many favourite positions:
Years ago, I had a cat named Snufalufagus (Gus for short.) He was a lazy cat, I mean lazy. He was an indoor/outdoor cat and I never saw him clean himself, ever. The other cats in the area would be seen cleaning him, but he never cleaned himself. Once a week or so he would get in the shower with me at sit at me feet and just get soaked.
I started working more and more and decided he needed a friend. I went to the animal shelter and found a nice black and white cat. I never named him, the vet listed him as “no-name kitty.” The vet diagnosed him with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, OCD. He would not touch the litter in box my Gus did. Gus did not even need to use the box, just touch it. No-name would back his butt over the edge of the box, image a trash truck backing up to empty his load, then scratch the wall beside the box, he was not going to touch the litter.
That is not all. If, he was lying down and he saw me look at his belly the little terd would take a dump in my bed. I am not making this up, if I did something wrong he would crap in my bed. If, I did not get him food at the same time everyday he would go weird and poop and piss somewhere in the house. I was “allowed” to pet him, if he came to me, but I was not allowed to look at him while petting him.
I wanted the little bastard gone, but could not handle the thought of him in a shelter again and possible put down. Then Michelle moved in. HOLY CRAP, it got much worse. Michelle not being a cat person, and No-name not liking her was not easy, I felt like a bomb was going to go off at any time when I was at home. He stopped dumping in the bed, and started messing with her. I vividly remember the morning she throw her purse across the room and nailed me in the head because no-name pooped in her purse. However, the flying shoe with poop in it missed me by a couple feet.
Gus was turning Michelle around. She was beginning to like cats. They bonded and played a lot. Gus had a way of leaping from the window at 2am and waking her up, almost every night. In return, she would tickle the hair on the bottom of his feet when he tried to sleep. The more Michelle tried to get along with, or ignore No-name the worse it got. I was somewhat happy he was not taking it out on me, but was getting tired of having stuff thrown at me.
It was also getting costly to keep buying pillows for Michelle as No-name pissed on her pillow. She would move the pillow from the bed while we were at work, he would find a way to get on the shelf in the closet to piss on it. If, the bedroom door was shut, he would save up his liquid and save it for her while she was asleep. Just in case, you are not aware of this, waking up in the middle of the night with a cat doing his business on you loved one is a not a pleasant experience.
In the end, No-name went to live with a friend that was retiring from work and he would be the only pet in the house. I hear his weirdness catches my co-worker off guard from time to time. I hear if she gets undressed to shower and leaves the bathroom door open, No-name will drag her underwear off and hide them under the bed. If, he see her picking them up after he put them under the bed he will hide and pout for days.
After No-name went away, Michelle wanted her own cat. Off to the shelter to get a cat. The cat is named Batty, his head looks like a bat head, no he does not walk around with his head upside down. For a couple years, we were a two animal household. By this time, Gus was getting older and much more lazy. Batty somehow thinks he is a dog. Michelle has taught him to play fetch with a small ball, shake, lay down, and a few others. I am amazed how much this cat is like a dog.
Not much later, I lost Gus to cancer. Huge loss for me. This cat shaped my life. My choices of where to live were based on allowing a cat as pet. I got No-name to give him company. At one point, I got a fairly large bump on my head from a flying purse, which I would not have gotten if I had not gotten No-name to give Gus a friend.
A year later, Michelle demanded I get a new kitty. After much pushing on her end, I broke and went to the animal shelter. None of the cats got my attention. Off to the pet stores that have adoptions of shelter animals on the weekend. At the third store, I found a cat that got my attention. I named her Lil-girl. Other then her sagging belly, she is still a little girl.
She shares many of the traits Gus had. However, she is a clean freak. I hide my motorcycle gear from her. It is like nails on a chalkboard. The licking sound of her cleaning my MotoPort Mesh jacket just putts me over the edge. She cleans Batty, Michelle, me, my motorcycle stuff, the walls, Michelle’s shoes, and so much more. I cannot name all the stuff she hunts out to clean. I have no idea how she cleans so much and does not have hair balls.
Some how, she as picked up dog tricks from Batty. You have to keep an eye on her when she is on your lap, or you sitting on the pot. She will start playing tug-o-war with the string in your shorts, or she will just chew on the string until it is dripping with slobber.
Lil-girl and I have bonded. I sleep on my side, and wake up every morning with her asleep on top of my shoulder/arm. I am not kidding, every morning I wake up with her on top of me. As you may image, this does not go over so well with Michelle. Lil-Girl and Michelle in the same house are like high school girls. They both poke and prod at each other.
Last week, Michelle being in a romantic mood pushed Lil-girl off me in the morning. Lil-girl was not going to have it. Lil-girl climbed back on top of me and Michelle pushed her off again. That was enough for Lil-girl, she bit Michelle on the finger hard enough to draw blood. In return, Michelle start making fun of Lil-girl’s pudgy belly and the name calling starts. Romantic mood was over.
Michelle won’t feed her unless Batty is hungry also, Michelle locks Lil-girl out of the room when possible, will give Batty treats but not Lil-girl, and so on. That was last week, this week things are good. Lil-girl is on Michelle’s lap getting attention as I type this.
Two Christmas ago, we ended up with a solid white, blue eyed, Siberian Husky, named Avalanche. At the time we got him, he was about six months old. He has grown up a normal dog. Other then the Lil-girl cleaning station we have. At any time, if he feels dirty or needs his hear chewed on he has the Lil-girl cleaning station to handle the needs.
He learned at a very young age he could get Michelle fired up if he tried you push his nose up her butt. Now, she does not care for this, or the wet snot spot it leaves on slacks when she is heading out to work. However, he enjoys it so I encourage his behavior with treats after he does a good job.
A year ago, he had a seizer and has since been diagnose epilepsy. Living with a dog with epilepsy can be a chore, but can be managed with some effort.
That is the long story; I have two cats and a dog. I am sad to say, the dog now gives Michelle a excuse to fart in the same room as me since she can blame it on him.
I started working more and more and decided he needed a friend. I went to the animal shelter and found a nice black and white cat. I never named him, the vet listed him as “no-name kitty.” The vet diagnosed him with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, OCD. He would not touch the litter in box my Gus did. Gus did not even need to use the box, just touch it. No-name would back his butt over the edge of the box, image a trash truck backing up to empty his load, then scratch the wall beside the box, he was not going to touch the litter.
That is not all. If, he was lying down and he saw me look at his belly the little terd would take a dump in my bed. I am not making this up, if I did something wrong he would crap in my bed. If, I did not get him food at the same time everyday he would go weird and poop and piss somewhere in the house. I was “allowed” to pet him, if he came to me, but I was not allowed to look at him while petting him.
I wanted the little bastard gone, but could not handle the thought of him in a shelter again and possible put down. Then Michelle moved in. HOLY CRAP, it got much worse. Michelle not being a cat person, and No-name not liking her was not easy, I felt like a bomb was going to go off at any time when I was at home. He stopped dumping in the bed, and started messing with her. I vividly remember the morning she throw her purse across the room and nailed me in the head because no-name pooped in her purse. However, the flying shoe with poop in it missed me by a couple feet.
Gus was turning Michelle around. She was beginning to like cats. They bonded and played a lot. Gus had a way of leaping from the window at 2am and waking her up, almost every night. In return, she would tickle the hair on the bottom of his feet when he tried to sleep. The more Michelle tried to get along with, or ignore No-name the worse it got. I was somewhat happy he was not taking it out on me, but was getting tired of having stuff thrown at me.
It was also getting costly to keep buying pillows for Michelle as No-name pissed on her pillow. She would move the pillow from the bed while we were at work, he would find a way to get on the shelf in the closet to piss on it. If, the bedroom door was shut, he would save up his liquid and save it for her while she was asleep. Just in case, you are not aware of this, waking up in the middle of the night with a cat doing his business on you loved one is a not a pleasant experience.
In the end, No-name went to live with a friend that was retiring from work and he would be the only pet in the house. I hear his weirdness catches my co-worker off guard from time to time. I hear if she gets undressed to shower and leaves the bathroom door open, No-name will drag her underwear off and hide them under the bed. If, he see her picking them up after he put them under the bed he will hide and pout for days.
After No-name went away, Michelle wanted her own cat. Off to the shelter to get a cat. The cat is named Batty, his head looks like a bat head, no he does not walk around with his head upside down. For a couple years, we were a two animal household. By this time, Gus was getting older and much more lazy. Batty somehow thinks he is a dog. Michelle has taught him to play fetch with a small ball, shake, lay down, and a few others. I am amazed how much this cat is like a dog.
Not much later, I lost Gus to cancer. Huge loss for me. This cat shaped my life. My choices of where to live were based on allowing a cat as pet. I got No-name to give him company. At one point, I got a fairly large bump on my head from a flying purse, which I would not have gotten if I had not gotten No-name to give Gus a friend.
A year later, Michelle demanded I get a new kitty. After much pushing on her end, I broke and went to the animal shelter. None of the cats got my attention. Off to the pet stores that have adoptions of shelter animals on the weekend. At the third store, I found a cat that got my attention. I named her Lil-girl. Other then her sagging belly, she is still a little girl.
She shares many of the traits Gus had. However, she is a clean freak. I hide my motorcycle gear from her. It is like nails on a chalkboard. The licking sound of her cleaning my MotoPort Mesh jacket just putts me over the edge. She cleans Batty, Michelle, me, my motorcycle stuff, the walls, Michelle’s shoes, and so much more. I cannot name all the stuff she hunts out to clean. I have no idea how she cleans so much and does not have hair balls.
Some how, she as picked up dog tricks from Batty. You have to keep an eye on her when she is on your lap, or you sitting on the pot. She will start playing tug-o-war with the string in your shorts, or she will just chew on the string until it is dripping with slobber.
Lil-girl and I have bonded. I sleep on my side, and wake up every morning with her asleep on top of my shoulder/arm. I am not kidding, every morning I wake up with her on top of me. As you may image, this does not go over so well with Michelle. Lil-Girl and Michelle in the same house are like high school girls. They both poke and prod at each other.
Last week, Michelle being in a romantic mood pushed Lil-girl off me in the morning. Lil-girl was not going to have it. Lil-girl climbed back on top of me and Michelle pushed her off again. That was enough for Lil-girl, she bit Michelle on the finger hard enough to draw blood. In return, Michelle start making fun of Lil-girl’s pudgy belly and the name calling starts. Romantic mood was over.
Michelle won’t feed her unless Batty is hungry also, Michelle locks Lil-girl out of the room when possible, will give Batty treats but not Lil-girl, and so on. That was last week, this week things are good. Lil-girl is on Michelle’s lap getting attention as I type this.
Two Christmas ago, we ended up with a solid white, blue eyed, Siberian Husky, named Avalanche. At the time we got him, he was about six months old. He has grown up a normal dog. Other then the Lil-girl cleaning station we have. At any time, if he feels dirty or needs his hear chewed on he has the Lil-girl cleaning station to handle the needs.
He learned at a very young age he could get Michelle fired up if he tried you push his nose up her butt. Now, she does not care for this, or the wet snot spot it leaves on slacks when she is heading out to work. However, he enjoys it so I encourage his behavior with treats after he does a good job.
A year ago, he had a seizer and has since been diagnose epilepsy. Living with a dog with epilepsy can be a chore, but can be managed with some effort.
That is the long story; I have two cats and a dog. I am sad to say, the dog now gives Michelle a excuse to fart in the same room as me since she can blame it on him.
Here is Lupo. She passed away two years ago at age 16. She was a tiny barn kitten I caught a few days before the barn was torn down. She shared the last 8 years of her life with me living aboard my sailboat and wandering up and down the east coast from Maine to the Bahamas. She never left the boat. Never fell overboard. In rough weather she wanted to be on deck atop the bimini. RIP Lupo.
This is Rocky. She was a feral kitten rescued from the streets of Baltimore, MD, and now shares her life with me here in the weirdness of Arkansas.
This is Rocky. She was a feral kitten rescued from the streets of Baltimore, MD, and now shares her life with me here in the weirdness of Arkansas.
What a dorkie thread. :huh:
But since I'm here.... Here's a picture of my jack ass...
Stubborn as a buzzard and doesn't smell much better.
But since I'm here.... Here's a picture of my jack ass...
Stubborn as a buzzard and doesn't smell much better.
Last edited by a moderator:
buf2phx
Well-known member
Two male Keeshonden(that's the plural of Keeshond) here. They are brothers, born exactly one year apart.
Mike
Me, Yukon, and Alpine
Mike
Me, Yukon, and Alpine
Last edited by a moderator:
Roadstar
Well-known member
What a dorkie thread. :huh:
But since I'm here.... Here's a picture of my jack ass...
Stubborn as a buzzard and doesn't smell much better.
Enough about yourself , how about the donky :yahoo:
Mizz Bustanut
Well-known member
Wow Bluesy, I have a jack ass that looks just like that.What a dorkie thread. :huh:
But since I'm here.... Here's a picture of my jack ass...
Stubborn as a buzzard and doesn't smell much better.
Here's a picture of him with our dogs . . . .
:lol:
odot
CC member # 17,----- DUP member # 7, mensa club m
Thanks Mizz Bust!! I was lookin's for a picture of your... errr..... hhhmmhhhmm..... other half... and could find no pix. Seems they wuz all deleatsed. I had to use the old avatar.Wow Bluesy, I have a jack ass that looks just like that.What a dorkie thread. :huh: But since I'm here.... Here's a picture of my jack ass...
Stubborn as a buzzard and doesn't smell much better.
Here's a picture of him with our dogs . . . .
:lol:
Cdogman
Bad Boy
No Shit,, really.. LMAO J/K
CHICKEN DOG
And I am Cdogman = Chicken Dogs Man
Patriot
Isabella is Lazarus
periodic shameless bump
thlh2007
Active member
I have 4 dogs, 3 cats, 5 crested geckos and a 24 gal. salt water aquarium.
Dogs:
Rajah - 6 year old Siberian Husky
Kiara - 5 year old American Eskimo - She's my alpha dog very bossy and grouchy
Lexi - 2 year old Blue Merle Shetland Sheepdog
Dakota - 2 month old Collie (Lassie)
Cats:
Mieka - 3 year old Ragdoll Cat
Kyan - 2 year old Bengal Cat
Zeke - 1 year old Bengal Cat
Love them all, wouldn't trade them for anything!!
Dogs:
Rajah - 6 year old Siberian Husky
Kiara - 5 year old American Eskimo - She's my alpha dog very bossy and grouchy
Lexi - 2 year old Blue Merle Shetland Sheepdog
Dakota - 2 month old Collie (Lassie)
Cats:
Mieka - 3 year old Ragdoll Cat
Kyan - 2 year old Bengal Cat
Zeke - 1 year old Bengal Cat
Love them all, wouldn't trade them for anything!!
Last edited by a moderator:
Silver Penguin
Silver Penguin
So what's the secret of domestic harmony, with dogs and cats in the same house? We have three cats, who have ruled the roost forever. Last fall, we brought a rather boisterous puppy home. He's calming down a bit now but he's a big guy. Dog and cats cannot be in the same room at the same time.
Suggestions from any of the multi-pet households out there?
jmdaniel
Has A Well Known Member
Cdogman
Bad Boy
Bungie
FrostBack #2 - IBA # 44620
+1+1Get rid of the cats, get a couple more dogs.
I've always been a dog person though I don't have any pets at the moment.
That being said I'm quite allergic to cats. My most recent 'ex' (were still great friends) had two cats. Whenever I spent the night at her place their was about 50/50 chance I'd have to bail out around 3am because I couldn't breath. Eventually, the bedroom became a no-cat-zone. This worked out much better, but I would still on occasion have a problem breathing in the the middle of the night.
One day I go over and she goes.. "Guess what I got!"
I'm think to myself.... please don't say Herpes...
She goes.. "I got another kitty!"
Greeeeat... Though I will admit to actually liking this cat. It instinctively knew I was allergic to it and would pounce and dig its claws into me, triggering ENORMOUS welts.
My last dog, a 125lb Siberian named Tuk. BEST. DOG. EVER. When she passed away, I cried like a little kid. Shit. Now I'm bummed.
Patriot
Isabella is Lazarus
bumpidy bump bump
