Weird things cats have done

This thread is inspired by a couple of things in the jokes thread, I think we need a whole thread of all the bizarre and creative things cats do to get into trouble. I'll copy the joke that started it, This WAS NOT ME OR MY CAT!!! It's just off the net.

-------------------------

This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.

My husband, Rich, and I had just returned from a vacation in the Cayman Islands, where I had been sick as a dog the whole time, trying to convince myself that if I had to feel lousy, it was better to do it in paradise. We had arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays, had not been able to prepare the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think and around ten o'clock I heard Rich hollering something indecipherable from the kitchen. As I raced out to see what was wrong, I saw Rich frantically rooting around under the kitchen sink and Rudy, or rather, Rudy's headless body scrambling around in the sink, his claws clicking in panic on the metal. Rich had just ground up the skin of some smoked salmon in the garbage disposal, and when he left the room, Rudy had gone in after it. It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink. This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for ten years, who burrows under the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked like a desperate, fur-covered turkey carcass set to defrost in the sink while still alive and kicking.

It was also disturbing to see Rich, Mr. Calm-in-an-Emergency, at his wits end, trying to soothe Rudy, trying to undo the garbage disposal, failing at both, and basically freaking out. Adding to the chaos was Rudy's twin brother Lowell, racing around in circles, jumping onto the kitchen counter and alternately licking Rudy's backside for comfort and biting it out of fear.

Clearly, I had to do something. First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his head and neck. We tried baby shampoo & Crisco: both failed, and a now-greasy Rudy kept struggling. Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a good idea, but he couldn't do it. The thing is constructed like a metal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy's head still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar.

My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy, trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he's part Siamese), and Rich clattering around with tools.

When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help. I called our regular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 pm. He talked Rich through further layers of disposal dismantling, but still we couldn't reach Rudy. I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no response), a pest removal service that advertises 24-hour service (no response), an all-night emergency veterinary clinic (who had no experience in this matter, so no advice), and finally, in desperation, 911. I could see that Rudy's normally pink paw pads were turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out of trees; maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal.

The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen. This suggestion gave me pause. I'm from the sixties, and even if I am currently a fine upstanding citizen, I had never considered calling the cops and asking them to come to my house, on purpose. I resisted the suggestion, but the dispatcher was adamant: "They'll help you out," he said.

The cops arrived close to midnight and turned out to be quite nice. More importantly, they were also able to think rationally, which we were not. They were, of course, quite astonished by the situation: "I've never seen anything like this," Officer Mike kept saying. (The unusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first-name basis with our cops.) Officer Tom expressed immediate sympathy. "I have had cats all my life," he said, comfortingly. Also he had an idea. Evidently we needed a certain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw that could cut through the heavy plastic flange encircling Rudy's neck without hurting Rudy, and Officer Tom happened to own one. "I live just five minutes from here," he said; "I'll go get it."

He soon returned, and the three of them, Rich and the two policemen got under the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on the counter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of the scene, with the weird middle-of-the-night lighting, the room's occasional spinning, Lowell's spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in my sink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it.

One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off the disposal, so we could now see Rudy's face and knew he could breathe. But they couldn't cut the flange without risking the cat. Stumped, Officer Tom had another idea. "You know,I think the reason we can't get him out is the angle of his head and body. If we could just get the sink out and lay it on its side, I'll bet we could slip him out." That sounded like a good idea at this point, ANYTHING would have sounded like a good idea and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a plumbing business on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink! Again they went to work, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the sink surrounded by an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts. They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines, unfastened the metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, viola! The sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding the garbage disposal (which contained Rudy's head) up close to the sink (which contained Rudy's body). We laid the sink on its side, but even at this more favorable removal angle, Rudy stayed stuck. Officer Tom's radio beeped, calling him away on some kind of real police business.

As he was leaving, though, he had another good idea: "You know," he said, "I don't think we can get him out while he's struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If he were limp, we could slide him out." And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover still worried about Rudy. The remaining three of us decided that getting Rudy sedated was a good idea, but Rich and I were new to the area. We knew that the overnight emergency veterinary clinic was only a few minutes away, but we didn't know exactly how to get there. "I know where it is!" declared Officer Mike. "Follow me!" So Mike got into his patrol car, Rich got into the drivers seat of our car, and I got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left of the garbage disposal, and Rudy. It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followed Officer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into the garbage disposal to pet Rudy's face, hoping I could comfort him. Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger, hard, really hard and wouldn't let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear, and I couldn't stop the noise. Rich slammed on the brakes, hollering "What? What happened? Should I stop?" checking us out in the rear view mirror. "No," I managed to get out between screams, "just keep driving. Rudy's biting me, but we've got to get to the vet. Just go!"

Rich turned his attention back to the road, where Officer Mike took a turn we hadn't expected, and we followed. After a few minutes Rudy let go, and as I stopped screaming, I looked up to discover that we were wandering aimlessly through an industrial park, in and out of empty parking lots, past little streets that didn't look at all familiar. "Where's he taking us?" I asked. "We should have been there ten minutes ago!" Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do was follow the police car until, finally, he pulled into a church parking lot and we pulled up next to him. As Rich rolled down the window to ask, Mike, "where are we going?" The cop, who was not Mike, rolled down his window and asked, "Why are you following me?"

Once Rich and I recovered from our shock at having tailed the wrong cop car and the policeman from his pique at being stalked, led us quickly to the emergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door, exclaiming, " Where were you guys???"

It was fortunate that Mike got to the vets ahead of us, because we hadn't thought to call and warn them about what was coming. (Clearly, by this time we weren't really thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sink containing Rudy and the garbage disposal containing his head, and the clinic staff was ready.

They took his temperature (which was down 10 degrees) and his oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vet declared: "This cat is in serious shock. We've got to sedate him and get him out of there immediately." When I asked if it was OK to sedate a cat in shock, the vet said grimly, "We don't have a choice." With that, he injected the cat; Rudy went limp; and the vet squeezed about half a tube of K-Y jelly onto the cat's neck and pulled him free.

Then the whole team jumped into code blue mode. (I know this from watching a lot of ER) They laid Rudy on a cart, where one person hooked up IV fluids, another put little socks on his paws ("You'd be amazed how much heat they lose through their pads," she said), one covered him with hot water bottles and a blanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up Rudy's now very gunky head. The fur on his head dried in stiff little spikes, making him look rather pathetically punk as he lay there, limp and motionless.

At this point they sent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in the waiting room while they tried to bring Rudy back to life. I told Mike he didn't have to stay, but he just stood there, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he said again. At about 3 am, the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good for a full recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re-hydrate him and give him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if all went well, we could take him home the following night. Just in time to hear the good news, Officer Tom rushed in, finished with his real police work and concerned about Rudy. I figured that once this ordeal was over and Rudy was home safely, I would have to re-think my position on the police.

Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We hadn't unpacked from our trip, I was still at times dizzy, and I still hadn't prepared my 8:40 class. "I need a vacation," I said, and while I called the office to leave a message canceling my class, Rich made us a pitcher of martinis. I slept late the next day and then badgered the vet about Rudy's condition until he said that Rudy could come home later that day.

I was working on the suitcases when the phone rang. "Hi, this is Steve Huskey from the Norristown Times-Herald," a voice told me. "Listen, I was just going through the police blotter from last night. Mostly it's the usual stuff: breaking and entering, petty theft but there's this one item. Um, do you have a cat?" So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him. A couple hours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too; did I have a picture of Rudy? The next day Rudy was front-page news, under the ridiculous headline Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot Water.

There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Even today, over a year later, people ask about Rudy, whom a 9-year-old neighbor had always called the Adventure Cat. I don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that this adventure cost me $1100 in emergency vet bills, follow-up vet care, new sink, new plumbing, new electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal, one with a cover.

The vet can no longer say he's seen everything but the kitchen sink. I wanted to thank Officers Tom and Mike by giving them gift certificates, but was told that they couldn't accept gifts, that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a letter to the Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent thank-you notes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of Rudy, so they could see what he looks like with his head on.

And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (so we thought), still sleeps with me under the covers on cold nights and unaccountably, he still sometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish...

Hi Pearl,

I had a cat go down our fireplace chimney.  No fire was going...fortunately.  I really thought I was going to have to go through the bricks to get it.  But I forced the draft open wider with a 2x4. It apparently saw the light and dropped down and crawled out.  No vet Bill's, but it did need a bath.

I had a headache one day that got bad enough I had to lie down on the couch for a while. My dad was doing some kind of maintenance in the basement, and had warned us that the smoke alarm might go off, but not to worry. So when it did, I just put a pillow over my ear and stayed put.

My cat, on the other hand, went absolutely NUTS!! Our house is arranged so it's possible to go in a circle from the hall, to the kitchen, to the living room, and back to the hall. She raced around in that circle at least 3 times at top speed. Then she saw me laying on the couch, and I swear you could hear her screech to a halt. She jumped up on the couch and started pawing at my face, meowing in a panic. I'm pretty sure that if you translated her meows into English, she was saying "You gotta get up! Gotta get up! Something's wrong! You gotta get up!!!"

Since I already knew there wasn't really a problem, I just patted her on the head and stayed put. She decided that if I wasn't worried, then everything must be ok. So she shrugged (did you know cats can shrug?) then curled herself up on the pillow beside me and went to sleep. With the smoke alarm still blaring!

This one was me:
What I was woken up by: A Siamese cat up on my loft bed at 2 AM, crying, choking and spitting....

What I figured out happened: I was leaving town for a week. Made a batch of tempura vegetables, ate some for dinner, decided to eat the rest while I was driving the 50 miles to the airport the next morning. They get tough if they are refrigerated, so I put them on a plate, and flipped a metal mixing bowl over them for a lid. and went to bed.

Knowing the personality of all the cats involved, I'd say Jascha jumped up on the counter, and shoved the bowl, plate, and all onto the floor. All of the cats started having a tempura vegetable party. The skunks came in the cat door, said "Hey! Veggies!" and joined the party. Kesha, the Siamese, was eating on something, a skunk came up to join her. Kesha was a bitchy cat, she whacked it's nose. Skunk turned around and did it's business. Kesha ended up on my bed, crying and spitting.

I got up, figured out the mess, went to bathe Kesha, and had no tomato juice.... so I used Prego with mushrooms :D  She was NOT a happy cat, baths weren't her thing at best, and being Siamese Parmigiana did NOT amuse her at 2 AM. I went back to bed, got a couple more hours of sleep. Got up in the morning, could still smell skunk in the kitchen, made sure the skylight windows were opened, told the cats "Y'all started this, you live with the smell, I'm out of here! Hope it's aired in a week!" And left them to it...

Jascha was a shover, Kesha was a nose whacker, and the skunks were friendly as long as they weren't messed with (this was the only time the house got sprayed, in many years of high skunk population.) And I suspect, with how much she fought, that Kesha ended up with mushrooms in her ears.
I left town :D

Cats are an endless bit of amusement. We had a siamese that was so prideful that when she fell down a trellis, she looked around with an attitude that implied "I meant to do that".

My cat WOKE ME UP when something out in the yard caught FIRE!!  I had left a fat candle lit under some plastic over tender potted plants on a cold night, figuring this would be less work than hauling them all in.  Sure enough in the middle of the night a wind came up, blew the plastic down onto the candle and started it burning.  My cat, who slept with me, started meowing loudly enough for me to wake up and see the light from the burning plastic.  I was able to run out quick and douse it, preventing it from spreading and even saving some of the plants!!

My wife and I were in our living room when our Burmese  dashed though it with a $20 bill in her mouth.  We quietly noted where she went with it. The next day, when the cat was outside, we searched and discovered her stash. There were various bills, missing earrings, and all sorts of "sparklies". After a brief discussion of possible consequences for our actions if we decided to steal her property, we replaced the bills with $1 bills. The sparklies of value we replaced with crumpled up aluminium foil.  It seemed to work.  She did not change the location of her stash, and we were able to inspect it on monthly basis.

John F Dean: That's hilarious! I had something not quite as classy go on....
Two kittens, abused badly, came to live with me. I fed them well (first time in their lives! They were skin and bone when I got them) and gave them things that were fun to do (unlike hiding from being killed) and they just blossomed. But they never forgot where they came from. I moved the couch one day and found their little kitty prepper stash, of everything they wanted to have if the world started sucking again. My wooden cooking spoons (out of the dishes pile, still bit of food on them,) cat food, cubes of very stale cheese, q tips, pens, bouncy balls, stuffed mice, half chewed crackers, dirty socks.... everything that mattered to them to have if they needed it.  

These were the same kittens who learned that in that house the bathroom was at the end of a long hall, and the toilet paper was on the far wall, which means if you get the end of it and run like a looney, you can TP quite a lot of the house, as long as you kept going.

Also the same cats that realized our next house had touch lamps in the living room. They'd turn them on at night to play in there. Would never shut them back off though. My bedroom stereo also was touch activated, and one of them didn't like my taste in music in the morning, and as soon as I went to the bathroom in the morning, turned off the Pink Floyd. He'd leave anything else on, and didn't mind Pink Floyd in the evening, but Echoes in the morning bugged him.

Bizarre little cats :D

Many years ago, I was reading aloud about strange things cats do. Particularly, a story of a cat chewing on its human's hair while they were sleeping. We laughed and thought little more of it. Until I woke up that night to one of my cats chewing on my hair! I guess she was inspired? So I will have to restrain myself from reading these aloud to my partner, lest the cat get any ideas...

My cat loved ladders.

He transitioned from being an apartment cat to a farm cat at about 12 years old, and never got into climbing trees, but he could not resist a ladder. If he heard me setting one up, in a couple minutes he would be directly below me, trying with more enthusiam than good sense to work his way past me to sit on the very top. A very chancy enterprise when I had my hands full of tools.

I worried about it at first, but once it was clear he could get down unharmed, I would leave the 10ft orchard ladder set up and he would perch up there for an hour or two at a time, surveying his domain and sniffing the high breezes.


I still reflexively glance down to make sure there is no cat on the rung below me when I climb down, though he's been dead for several months.

That was a great story.

My previous cat used to deliberately put his paws in an ants nest, wait until the ants had covered his legs, and then lick them off. He would do that repeatedly for several minutes until he was satisfied.
These are the kind of ants that sting when disturbed.
I used to see him do it most days.
Anyone seen a cat do this, or knows why he did it?

Anna McIntyre wrote:
My previous cat used to deliberately put his paws in an ants nest, wait until the ants had covered his legs, and then lick them off. He would do that repeatedly for several minutes until he was satisfied.
These are the kind of ants that sting when disturbed.
I used to see him do it most days.
Anyone seen a cat do this, or knows why he did it?

Makes me wonder if those ants gather nectar. Some cats really like sweet things.

Hi Anna,

I had a Maine Coon Cat who used to fish for crayfish by sticking her arm as far as she could down the hole. When one latcked on to her, she would pull it out and eat it. In her case, she was clearly after food.

Pearl Sutton wrote:

Anna McIntyre wrote:
My previous cat used to deliberately put his paws in an ants nest, wait until the ants had covered his legs, and then lick them off. He would do that repeatedly for several minutes until he was satisfied.
These are the kind of ants that sting when disturbed.
I used to see him do it most days.
Anyone seen a cat do this, or knows why he did it?

Makes me wonder if those ants gather nectar. Some cats really like sweet things.

These are the same ants who farm aphids, so you might be right

John F Dean wrote:Hi Anna,

I had a Maine Coon Cat who used to fish for crayfish by sticking her arm as far as she could down the hole. When one latcked on to her, she would pull it out and eat it. In her case, she was clearly after food.

I wondered if he needed the extra protein, but he ate geckos and mice by the dozen so probably not.
Maine Coons are pretty cool cats.

I was going to post a "this story contains poop" warning, but then I remembered that this is Permies and I've seen very robust threads on humanure, so just gonna tell the story.

I'll start by saying that no cats suffered any permanent damage. Pretty much, everyone turns out fine except me. Our alpha cat, Ducati, has a penchant for eating things he really oughtn't. Years before reusable bags became A Thing, I'd banned plastic grocery store bags from entering the house because Ducati would somehow use his extra cat senses to discover that one was in the house. Within 30 seconds, he'd be there munching on it. It was far easier to avoid the situation than to try to dissuade him; no matter where you hid them, he would find them!

One day I come home from work to find Ducati sitting, uncharacteristically, in the middle of the floor and looking very thoughtful. A Pooh-stuck-in-Rabbit's-hole kind of thoughtful. An I-probably-shouldn't-have-eaten-that thoughtful. I still had my mind wrapped around work, so I figured it was a Cat Thing and moved on about my business.

A few minutes later, there was unhappy yowling. And then a lot of racing noises of both cats Nascaring it down the hardwood floor of the hallway, skidding around corners. And Ducati is still yowling. I step out in the hall and see Ducati running back down the hall, but there's something apparently stuck to him and the kitten is chasing whatever it is that is stuck to him. Yowl is full bore and sounding frantic now, so I grabbed Ducati as he tries to make the corner and get past me. As I swoop him up, the kitten is now jumping up and swatting at whatever it is that's stuck to Ducati.

Correction. Whatever it is that's trailing from Ducati's butt.

Ducati's amazingly calm with any kind of health procedure (pills, trimming his nails, baths, whatever). He's quite trusting and usually just puts up with whatever you're doing, so, fortunately, he stopped yowling once I got hold of him and didn't fight me. Kitten still jumping and swatting at... Oh.

Apparently, Ducati ate some of my yarn. And now there's about six inches of poop-covered yarn, with a nice poop tassel on the end, that he's passed, but he apparently couldn't get the rest out. So I turn him around and start very gently and slowly (because if it's impacted, I want to be able to tell before I'm pulling intestines!) pulling yarn from the wrong end of my cat like he's the world's worst party favor. There's...quite a lot of it. Yards. He's not best pleased with this procedure and starts in again with the weird throaty yowling. And as I'm pulling, the kitten continues to jump up and try to grab it, because kitten. She's determined, she's fast, and in the end she's successful, grabbing a loop of crap-covered yarn. This is where things really went downhill.

I'm still in the hall. Kitten seizes on her excremental prize and starts racing away with it. And I really can't do much because the whole scenario has kind of overwhelmed my senses. Before I know it, she reaches the end of the slack and is now pulling more yarn from Ducati The Feline Yarn Ball at a frightening speed. The last bit releases (thankfully, no impaction or other intestinal damage and he was ok) and now she's blazing around the entire house with about five yards of Satan Brand Fecal Yarn trailing behind her. Ducati, now blessedly yarn-free, wants to know why I'm still holding him and starts the usual efforts that cats make to free themselves of unwanted human clutches. I'm bleeding, the house smells like a catbox, the alpha cat is pissed off, the kitten is now merrily playing with her prize on what was a clean kitchen floor, and there are suspicious brown smears all. over. everything. EVERYTHING.

At that point, my husband walks in the front door with a hearty, "Hi! So, how was the day?"

I don't remember anything after that.

Shawn Foster:
I laughed until I cried, oh my.....
:D

My wife has a Maine Coon cat who is up in years. She has made it clear that she is my wife's cat and NOT my cat.  Yesterday evening, my wife and the cat had gotten into some kind of dispute.  Anyway,  as the cat entered the room, my wife commented to her, "Oh, you have come to apologize."  The cat jumped up on the sofa on the far side of my wife ...walked across her ....claws out enough that my wife knew it, but not damaging. Walked across the end table ....onto my chair....and crawled into my lap.  She then turned to my wife and clearly said, "There is more than one fish in the sea!"

This goes back maybe 30 years.  I am a morning person. My wife is a night person.  On a homestead, that often works out well.  Late one night, my wife crawls into bed, and I realize the TV in the living room is still on.  I asked my wife if she forgot to turn the TV off. She responded that the cats were still watching it.  Not seeing a point in an argument, I got up to turn off the TV.  When I got to the LR, there they were ....all 6 of them...side by side on the coffee table ...watching a "Wild Kingdom" type show with a lioness chasing a gazelle.....no doubt, cheering for the home team.  I left the TV on and went back to bed.

I think I did a terrible thing.  With the heat and humidity so high, I got my best mouser into the house where she discovered the ceiling fan and air conditioning.

This is triggered by an exchange Pearl and I had in the jokes thread regarding cat tricks.  The cat, pictured above, was found half grown and huddled under a shopping cart in a shopping center in another state while I was on a business trip.  I rescued her.  And, she was old enough to know what I did for her.  She has owned me ever since. She has a large "cat tree" placed by our living room door.  When I have been gone on a multi day trip and enter the house, she will scamper up to the top of the tree , lean over, and give me a kiss on the cheek as I enter the door.

John F Dean: And your tale reminds me of my favorite cat (I miss her terribly!) who always rode around on my shoulders any time she could get away with it. I'd be walking to my my parents RV in the yard, she'd hop on and ride me. Dad would always greet her first, then say "And hello to your steed!" :D

I had people come over one time to look at something they were going to buy. They had a kid with them, maybe 5 years old, and my cat was thrilled! Someone to play with! She got on a piece of furniture, and as the kid walked by, tagged him on the head! Then leapt off, ran to another spot, when he passed her, tagged him again! She tagged him 7 or 8 times through the house and at all the same spots going back. She looked very proud, the kid looked totally bewildered. She wins!

Our first cat was an abused Maine Coon Cat....20lbs.  We had a game we called "Mongolian Hordsman".   It was a pun because he lived on the "steps".  Any way we would take turns chasing one another through the house.  Even in my 20s I would tire out before he did.

I have held off a couple of days on this post until I was certain. I got confirmation from a neighbor.  A few evenings ago, just before I was heading to bed, the cat pictured above strolled out of our bedroom  with a snake and dropped it on the living room floor in front of me. It was a Cottonmouth .  It was also quite dead.  I checked her over for bites, but she seemed ok. I kept a close watch on her for the next couple of hours, not that I could have done much.

We have had a huge amount of rain,  and I am seeing all sorts of things I have not seen on our property before.  What amazes me us that I searched around the house carefully, I cannot figure out how it got in.

We had a cat that would catch cicadas alive, bring them into the house, and let them go. A lot of fun for her, a lot of noise for us.

I had an Orange tabby a few years ago by name of Alexander, as in Alexander the Great. Caught him as a kitten outside in a rainstorm.  Well as he grew he discovered quite a talent. A talent for hunting Bats. I dont know where or how but he would catch them and bring them inside to share his awesome squeaky toy with the other boys.  His record was 15 in less then a month.  I'll try to track down a picture of him with one of his prizes.

I have a cat, and her favorite food is corn, I recently discovered that she also likes peas, but not as much as corn. She also loves chewing plastic bags (no plastic bags at home without at least few holes from her teeth, sometimes I found really big holes)

My cat did something non-weird once.  It really freaked me out.

I used to have a cat that would do almost anything, for lima beans... We discovered her love of them, when she ripped apart a trash bag for them, leaving the meat scraps that had been on the same plate!

I have raised many kittens on bottles, two of them I kept, and they were the smartest two cats I have had. (The female in this story is the one that rode on me and tagged a kid in a story above.)
The male was found a few hours old, his mom had her babies in a nest she had made in the ivy way up by the roof of a 2 story building downtown, unfortunately, the nest was sturdy enough to hold her, but the gaps were big enough for kittens to fall through. We heard crying, went and got a ladder, and fished dead and dying kittens out of the ivy. Two survived the night, one didn't last the week though, so only one grew up. And grow up he did, 22 pound tom cat, product of generations of fighting alley cats in the downtown area. I had him neutered as soon as it was wise, and he grew up to be a gentle, tough cat, wouldn't start a fight, but would finish if pressed to, and defended our house from any problems.

When he was 6 months old, a friend called me "there's something in my yard, don't know if it's a cat or a rat, come get it?" 1 day old female kitten, who grew up to be a lovely, sweet, headstrong, smart, cat, who supervised everything I did, because without cat supervision I get in trouble (just ask her!)

So the two of them were close in age, and he was delighted to have a playmate, but much bigger than her. She learned to be fast and sneaky, because he was powerful. I did not teach them what happens from here on....

They would go out in the driveway and spar, like martial artists. They'd pick a good spot, then touch noses, back up, and start circling. She was fast, could get in 10 hits in the time it took him to get one, but his one would throw her 6 feet or more. If she got up slow, he'd run over, lick her, wait till she was ready again, then they'd touch noses, and start again. When they had had enough, they'd touch noses, and come see if I'd give them tuna before they napped. They sparred every few weeks for the whole 15+ years I had them both.

He was, as I said, my watchcat, nothing got on the property without him noticing. Every once in a while he'd get backed into a corner, and he'd yell in a weird way, and she'd go flying out the cat door to help him. As far as I know, they never lost a fight, and I never had to provide backup.

I miss them terribly.

I used to be spend 9 nights a month in motel rooms.  One of my cats hated that. She knew what the suitcase meant. From the moment I started packing, she would crawl inside and complain each time i approached it.  So one morning in the motel room i get ready to shower and open my travel kit with the shampoo and shaving supplies ..... it was full of cat toys with all the supplies missing.  I did have a pink mouse and a sparkling red ball to play with though.

When I got home, I checked the area on the sofa where the suitcase had last been. All the supplies were hid under the cushions.