By: Cormac Duncan
[2002-07-03]
Boris the Cat
has he eaten the wrong sort of cheese out of someone's dustbin?
I am asleep, dreaming I stand on a pier at night amid storm tossed seas. I hear a strange inhuman cry; "Myerrowp!" Eh? What the fuck? There it is again - "Myerrrrowp!" Nicely rolled guttural Rs. Pretty weird. The incongruity forces me into the halfway land between wake and slumber; I could fall either way.
"Myerrowp! Chirp! Wong! Myerrowp! Myerrowp!" It's that stupid bloody cat - what the hell does he want at this time of night? I look at the clock. Four in the morning. The continuing racket appears to be coming from downstairs, which can mean one of two things. He's either dying in horrible agonies or he's just murdered something and brought in the pathetic little furry (or feathery) headless corpse to show me.
"Myerp, myerrp myowerrp!" The insane cries continue. I know he'll shut up after a few minutes and bugger off outside again, wreaking havoc and terror on the rodent denizens of the night.
"Myerrowp! Chirp! Wong! Myerrowp!" another ten minutes' worth! Perhaps there really is something the matter. Has he eaten the wrong sort of cheese out of someone's dustbin? Well, I'm awake now anyway, so I decide to have a look.
I heave myself out of bed and turn on the light. I'm standing right in front of the mirror but I can't stop to admire my manly physique because IT'S FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING AND I'VE JUST TURNED ON HUNDRED WATT BULB AND I CAN'T SEE A BLOODY THING!(!!!) So I open the door and hear the sound that strikes fear into the heart of even the bravest mouse - the sound of Boris The Cat galloping up the stairs shouting "Fooled you, fooled you!"
Wanker!
So he gets to the top, anyway - shouting the house down all the while - and I scratch his head and tell him how clever he is, which is basically a lie. Crepuscular, that's what you are, retard beast, which means you go out and murder things in the crepusculations or gloaming, not at bloody four in the morning! He seems pleased with the attention and wanders off again, presumably to dispose of the evidence and I go back to bed.
The next, or rather same, day, I wake up again and think, "that was a weird dream, last night." I wander undressed toward the bathroom and feel an unsavoury squishiness underfoot. I don't want to know! BLOODY CAT!
That sounds exactly like one of my cats. The same story happens to me every second night. I have even stood in some unsavoury squishiness manufactured by my cat once, at 11 at night, in the dark. That story is all too familiar.
Every cat I've lived with has figuratively flipped me the bird in one way or another. Although a couple of them did bite their thumbs at me.
More fun is having a deaf cat wake you up at 0400 because she's awake and it's too dark for her to see. You can't yell at her, ok, well you can but there's no effect, other than waking up the other people in the house. (The ones who are pretending they can't hear her.) You can't throw something at her to shut her up because she's solid black and god knows where she is. If the thrown object doesn't make direct contact with her she oblivious to it. If you could see her, there'd be enough light for her to see and she wouldn't be yelling. If you turn the light on then you're teaching her to yell in the middle of the night. Suggestions?
I'd get rid of the cat but she's my sister in law.
Water pistols are supposedly effective for cat discipline. I've not tried to train cats to do anything because they are different than dogs. Cats have often liked to drink from the kitchen tap which I leave dribbling for them, I don't mind if they spring from the floor to the counter in one bound; in fact it reminds me of why I like cats. But one cat, for example, would walk over top of the silver drawer, then dismount, she misstepped falling into the silver with a crash, then quickly resumed her normal composure as if that didn't happen. A dog would have been embarassed at such clumsiness, hung its head and tucked tail. The above piece reminds me of Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats in that it is about a villianous cat. It also reminds me of a song by
R. Crumb and his Cheap Suit Serenaders about a cat.
I can sleep through anything. Really. Alarm clocks, 76 trombomes, what have you. So one measly little cat's meowing at 5 in the morning is not even in the leaque of things that would wake me up. Our latest dearly departed cat soon figured that desperate measures were required if she was going to get her tasty victuals when she wanted them. She started first by licking our ears. And then touching our noses with her paw. Then lightly scratching said noses. Then not-so-lightly. By the time she figured out how to pull my hair it was all out war. Way beyond being cute/frustrating it was just downright rude. Up I'd spring and toss her into the hallway, with no food for her efforts But the cat was not going to be made a monkey of. She went straight to vomiting. On the bed. On the pillow next to our heads. I blinked. I had no answer to that. She got fed when she wanted.
Either for you or the deaf cat.
So your brother married a cat? How did the family react? After all, she's black and deaf. I could imagine a lot of prejudices erupting.
I was looking over in my neighbor's yard, and their were Siamese cats; two cats joined together by some attachment!
my gran had two cats. the black and white one died of old age. the ginger one had its nose scratched off and chewed in a fight. She kept the cat for another 6 months with blood and snot and shit pouring out of its nose all day every day. it was in so much pain. i urged her on a daily basis to go to see the vet but she wouldn't. just wait until it's time to put her down the crusty old bint.
Is it me or is Boris the cat in the photo giving us all the paw?? What have i ever done to him or is it aimed at the human race more generally?
Water guns, in my experience (or rather, the experiences of others I've been around), are no good for training kittens: they think it's a game. "Let's see for how long I can fuck up your shit before you squirt me." *Squirt* "Run away!!" And repeat.
Mom: I'd get some earplugs and leave a night light on in a far corner of the house that he has access to.
Amaninlove: This picture's been used here before and is kind of famous otherwise if you work in an office (FWD: KITTY LOL).
In my early 20's when I was in school at Virginia Commonwealth University and got an "A" in Social Psychology, I had a black kitty named Piewacket, and a white kitty named Madeleine F. Murry (the "F" is for furry). They both died within a couple of days of eachother. I couldn't figure if it was kitty leukemia, or the neighbors poisened them because they were both females, and caused a lot of boy cats to spray stinky pee on the front door. Anyway, I found some good
toonz!
Boris the...
I don't even really like The Who, excepting that song. John Entwistle just died, and it was his.
I think that's all I had to say.
or are tabby cats more likely to be hunters? Of all the cats my parents have owned, the tabbies are the only ones who've ever shown any interest in killing things. I read somewhere that because of the way the genetic information for the cat's coat color is stored, tabby is the "primal" color from which all other colors variations are formed.
I named my cat after that atheist lady, it was a white cat and so pure that I figured that she'd never even heard of Him. My brother went to hear John Entwistle at the 9:30 Club and one of the guys took a bass guitar along and got Entwistle to sign it. Entwistle also did a lot of drawings which he had in a gallery here selling for $5k, now I bet they are $10k! So much for atheistic cats.
I turned on the night light in Jessie's room last night and I didn't hear her yell at all. However, her new trick is knocking down the computer keyboard. She likes the computer screen to light up.
She likes the feel of the keys under her feet. She used to walk back and forth across the piano keys, back and forth, until we closed the keyboard up.
My brother didn't marry her. She is my husband's sister. Or rather, she was his mother's youngest child. Mom loved her cats. When she was dying of metastatic cancer she wouldn't move in with us until one of us thought to tell her she could bring her two cats (after all, we only had 4 of our own). Mom died but the cats remain. Jessie and Daisy. They were named by old ladies (Mom and her mother). Mom would feed them off her fork. She'd share her oatmeal with them, her using a spoon, them lapping it up....while she was still eating it. They've had some adjusting to do.
///////oh, great, now Jessie is hitting keys. I'm tired of deleting what she's typing. Here's her message:
85////////////////////l0o[']-
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=============l;.p;[frtgpl;;dyuhh-=====
==========io
Since she's deef, barking wouldn't work. But maybe a screen saver with a big dog might give her pause. Or another cat on the screen.
I should break up with staniel for many reasons, most of all because he doesn't like the who.
I think that you should send Staniel to the Virgin Islands for recycling.
It's very smokey here; they say there are lots of forest fires in Canada, but I think it' on account of the nuclear war.
.. this whole kind of retro phase all the "trendys" are going through its too Mod, you may as well grow a mullet, drive a scooter, own a space hopper, watch only the italian job, drink cheap watery lager, (is there any other kind). But don't blame them after all with the kinds of music thats released these days its only natural to look back when things where new and fresh.
Unless your talking about the World Health Organisation and they really ROCK!
welp since i have liked the who since i was a small wee child and also i dont get out much i am not too bothered by stupid kids liking them and driving scooters and being fags, just as long as they don't like stupid shit at the same time.
I've battled cats often and it really depends on what breed you have when it comes to the squirt gun/spray bottle technique. I have a skittish black cat who responds w/ little effort. While spraying my blue-point siamese just earns you looks of irritation and probably the paw if he were able to. Even if you spank him he just gets really pissed off and will try to keep doing what he was doing before. Smug little bastard kitty!
One thing that does help is to make some obnoxious noise while wetting the cat like hissing or yelling a specific word. It adds to the startle factor and helps them associate bad actions w/ bad sound. Eventually you'll wont even have to use the spray bottle because the obnoxious noise works just as well.
Why have you illustrated Dunc's rant about Boris the cat with a picture of Tigger the cat - Boris's companion? She is even worse than Boris. She doesn't bring in dead things, but makes as much fuss as if she had. Scratches at the bedroom door at 4 am, digs up the landing carpet, scratches some more, shouts a bit, starts all over again. I think she can't remember what's on the other side of a door when it's closed, so she has to get it opened to find out - so she finds out it's the same boring old bedroom and has to start the scratching business again from the other side to get out again. When there are visitors in the house, she spends ages gazing up at them and "looking pretty" i.e. putting her head on one side and sticking her tongue out, but if anyone presumes to pick her up or even touch her, she thumps them and stumps off looking indignant. She doesn't eat the wrong cheese out of dustbins, she eats your cheese off your biscuit if you leave it unattended.
Funny, she was so sweet when she was a kitten. Can it be living with Boris or Cormac has soured her character?
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Wow, my cat is called Boris and also runs up the stairs to greet me in the dead of the night. I, however, tend to trip over him!!!!
And I thought that I was the only one with a striped purry hunter!
I also have a boris. He doesn't like the screen or the mouse pointer on the screen, and is trying to claw the screen. But, I think that your Boris is more of a handful than mine.
