Not THAT time, get yer head outta the gutter.

I honestly can't remember how old I was, but it was in the pre-Benjamin air rifle days. I got that when I was 12, so I would say I was about 10 or 11.

The neighbors had a tabby tom that liked to wander over and help itself to our cat's food on a regular basis. That was when my aunt was a nurse and I had a regular supply of surgical rubber tubing....for my wrist rocket. I managed to make some that were longer than the average ones.

My dad told me that if I seen the old tom in our cat's food, to run it off. He never told me how to do it.

My weapon of choice was green pine cones. However, I had accidently found another way that worked even better. I had an old bucket laying around that got filled up with rainwater, then a couple of pine cones fell into it from the pine tree. The pine cone stays closed-up and needle sharp. Plus being water logged made it even heavier. The neighborhood sissy got to know them well...so did the toms.

I missed the tom because the cone was not aerodynamic. It wasn't by much, but it was a miss. He split under the neighbor's trailer.

I went and got the wrist rocket and a good limerock or two from the road and waited. Sure enough, he came out from under the trailer then under a fig tree and looked at me...

I pulled the slingshot pouch back to behind my right ear and I let her fly. The limerock went true to form and right upside his head where it busted into a few pieces.

The tom just layed over on his side...out cold. I got a bit scared and ran. Then I went back to see the results. The cat was stretched out. I had seen my dad off some toms before and they all did the acrobatics, not this one.

He must have been out for 30 minutes then he came to. It took him about 5 attempts to sit up, then he saw me and left the area...not very steadily I might add.

I didn't see him around for quite a while after that.

Next year or so, Dad got me a .22 cal Benjamin for Christmas. I was hooked from the beginning. The squirrels got mighty thin around the place as well as the rabbits. The toms didn't last long either if Dad decided his time was up.

Ah...the memories of my youth.

Thanks for sharing your first ..... cat. Camp Pendleton rifle range Calfornia. Father was teaching me to shoot for the first time using an M1. After about an hour I got the hang of it and could keep the shots within a foot circle at a hundred. Not bad for a small kid. A resident tom was sighted near a freshly painted Jeep brought back from the Pacific. The tom made the mistake of pissing on the jeep's newly painted wheel. Olive drap is not pretty except to a Marine officer. The tom wandered out on the firing line and I heard an order barked "Shoot the f....g thing!" "Yes sir I" replied mechanically and proceded to put eight rounds downrange in the vicinity of the cat. With luck one of them connected. I felt a slap on the back and heard "See Gunney, I told you the kid could handle an M1". I accepted the 5 cent Coke that was my reward and
joined the ranks of crat whackers.

OEH,

Now we know how come you are good with a Rifle. What a first time story.

Hog Killer

As a young Bloke I enjoied Trapping Rabbits for pocket money!First cat.Cuaght in a trap & down a Burrow.It was to late as I pulled the trap out to realize there was a cat in the trap! I still have the scars on my arm to prove why I hate cats.But the Learning curve was Trapping Tools have more than the use of knocking in & digging in traps!!!

OEH, ain't it odd the creatures that come out to play on the range during live fire? I've seen a lot of turkeys do that(not pissin' on the jeep) and a few deer and hogs too. Just damn peculiar is all I can say. Never had the pleasure of a crat doin' that but hope springs eternal!

Dan

Pres., TYHC

www.ReadyOn.TheRight!

My first pussy was Christmas day, 1976. My dad made the error of buying me a Ruger 10/22, which nearly destroyed my marksmanship. The very first thing I did with it was play "kick the can" with a ten round magazine, and the very next thing I did was play "kick the cat" with the next ten round magazine. I was an automatic weapons man from then on.

DD,

Yes, it is strange. I related another story in another post but I'll give a brief version of it here. 12 years after that incident with the cat I was in boot camp for the US Navy and we were taken to the same range at Pendleton to shoot for qualification with 1911's and M1's. One of the gunneys that had worked for my father was the range officer that day. He recognized me and luck would have it during the qualifications a coyote wandered out on the same range where I had shot the cat. The gunney called a cease fire when the coyote appeared. I then asked permission to fire and it was quickly granted. This time I was shooting a lot tighter groups and ventilated that poor coyote after making him dance across the range a bit. It was cat inspired Deja Vu. When we got back to quarters the city kids in our group treated me with a bit more respect.
The country kids didn't say anything, they knew it was no big deal.