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<blockquote data-quote="notned" data-source="post: 1216814" data-attributes="member: 89583"><p>I have just two stories about cats. Both true..</p><p></p><p>We had a fierce tom called Timmy. Incredibly sharp claws and teeth. Every morning (the wife would let him in) he'd wait for me on the stairs and as I passed him, in thin pjs, he launch himself at my back with all his claws out. The number of hot days at the office that one of the girls would tell me I had a lot of blood specks on the back of my shirt. Yet many times I saw my son, then just a toddler, polishing the dining room floor with the stupid cat over on his back..</p><p>One evening I noticed he was outside the back door. I opened the door to let him in and realised he was collapsed. He looked flat at the back end - I feared he had been clipped by a vehicle on the nearby main road. I picked him up and gently put him on the sofa, where, for a couple of hours he got more attention from the girls than anyone else ever got. The next morning he was still there, half covered by my daughter's favourite blanket as we'd left him the night before. I decided to take him to the vet. I got the car out and my wife passed him in, laying him across my lap. He hated cars, first time we'd got him in there without him being locked in a box. I drove the mile to the vets. He never moved. Got out, went into the waiting room which was full to bursting. Dogs, cats - he would normally have gone berserk. Stayed still on my lap - not a movement. When our number came up I picked him up and carried him very carefully into the vets 'surgery'. I swear, the moment he touched the vets table he was off like a rocket straight under a large chest of drawers - a bit like the plan chests we had at the office. Imagine the spectacle of the vet and I on hands and knees trying to get him out. Eventually the vet managed to push him my way with a brush handle and we got him out. From there on I wished I'd taken him in the box. The vet gave him a shot, on principle. You would never believe the performance I had with him in the car.</p><p></p><p>The other concerns my aunt's cat Monty. Big black thing. On one occasion when Uncle Charlie visited from Liverpool, he picked Monty up, stuck him under his left armpit rear end forwards with his left hand holding the cat's rear feet, put the tail up to his mouth with his right hand and went round the room making a noise like bagpipes while pumping the cat with his left elbow. The noise from the cat and the imitation bagpipes was something I'll never forget. Real cat lover, Charlie!</p><p></p><p>J.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="notned, post: 1216814, member: 89583"] I have just two stories about cats. Both true.. We had a fierce tom called Timmy. Incredibly sharp claws and teeth. Every morning (the wife would let him in) he'd wait for me on the stairs and as I passed him, in thin pjs, he launch himself at my back with all his claws out. The number of hot days at the office that one of the girls would tell me I had a lot of blood specks on the back of my shirt. Yet many times I saw my son, then just a toddler, polishing the dining room floor with the stupid cat over on his back.. One evening I noticed he was outside the back door. I opened the door to let him in and realised he was collapsed. He looked flat at the back end - I feared he had been clipped by a vehicle on the nearby main road. I picked him up and gently put him on the sofa, where, for a couple of hours he got more attention from the girls than anyone else ever got. The next morning he was still there, half covered by my daughter's favourite blanket as we'd left him the night before. I decided to take him to the vet. I got the car out and my wife passed him in, laying him across my lap. He hated cars, first time we'd got him in there without him being locked in a box. I drove the mile to the vets. He never moved. Got out, went into the waiting room which was full to bursting. Dogs, cats - he would normally have gone berserk. Stayed still on my lap - not a movement. When our number came up I picked him up and carried him very carefully into the vets 'surgery'. I swear, the moment he touched the vets table he was off like a rocket straight under a large chest of drawers - a bit like the plan chests we had at the office. Imagine the spectacle of the vet and I on hands and knees trying to get him out. Eventually the vet managed to push him my way with a brush handle and we got him out. From there on I wished I'd taken him in the box. The vet gave him a shot, on principle. You would never believe the performance I had with him in the car. The other concerns my aunt's cat Monty. Big black thing. On one occasion when Uncle Charlie visited from Liverpool, he picked Monty up, stuck him under his left armpit rear end forwards with his left hand holding the cat's rear feet, put the tail up to his mouth with his right hand and went round the room making a noise like bagpipes while pumping the cat with his left elbow. The noise from the cat and the imitation bagpipes was something I'll never forget. Real cat lover, Charlie! J. [/QUOTE]
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