The Accurate Reloading Forums
Walterhog posted this question over at his forum....
05 April 2005, 23:11
poletaxWalterhog posted this question over at his forum....
I been wondering how to find a way to know how many lives are left on cats!!??
Go over there and pour out buckets of wisdom.

My Strength Is That I Can Laugh At Myself,
My Weakness Is That I have No Choice.
06 April 2005, 02:04
Old Elk HunterLoad nine rounds in your magazine. Shoot slowly and when the cat stops moving count the rounds left in your magazine.
RELOAD - ITS FUN!
06 April 2005, 02:41
N. S. SherlockFor some reason all of the ones I have encountered were well into their ninth at the time of our meeting. All cats, as we know, do not have 10 lives. This has been proven beyond a doubt many times and is a scientific fact. I myself have observed this. N.S. Sherlock
"Make yourselves sheep and the wolves will eat you" G. ned ludd
06 April 2005, 03:03
DigitalDanNS, you live a charmed life, your crat targets obviously do not. By Grand Cosmic Coincidence I share the same luck and say with a straight face that I've never had to shoot one twice.

Still, I really do like OEH's approach to it!

I gotta check on the magazine capacity on that Rigby....
Dan
Pres., TYHC
www.Das.Katensplatzer
If yuro'e corseseyd and dsyelixc can you siltl raed oaky?
06 April 2005, 08:02
worriedmanI have not been blessed with the same luck in life regarding crats. The wife of 33 years and I had been married but two at the time. We had our first little starter house, (way too close to her parents), next door to one of the landed and wealthy gentry of the county. This guy had horses, Dobermans, and the biggest black crat you have ever seen. Large enough that he could turn my garbage can over all by himself, sort through the flotsam and jetsam, and stroll off without so much as look over his shoulder. Picky eater that he was, he left plenty for the possums and rats to show up for.
Being from far back in the country, and used to handling such occurrences with the tools at hand, I was reminded by my better half that I was no longer isolated and safe from numerous eyes. Not wishing to draw her ire, nor that of her parents, whose neighborhood I now lived in, I had to scheme.
I left him yellow liquid next to my garbage can to quench his thirst on his nightly raids, but he would have none of it. Sardines liberally sprinkled in the road in front of the house resulted in a 2 pound weight gain, no flat crat, and close scrutiny from the old bag across the street. Time for direct measures.
Saturday morning was a pink blush when the form of the marauder become finally visible as he slunk from his depraved feasting on leftover catfish. Almost to the brushy fence line that divided his safe haven from my more dangerous abode, the K4 crosshairs lined up with the back of his head, half a breath, slowly squeeze the trigger. He went down like a ton of brick in the tall grass, not so much as a ripple showed in the broom sedge. Amazed at how loud the CCI Minimag was, I jumped back in the house, (back door of course), set the T bolt down, grabbed my coffee cup and stepped out onto the front porch. The nosey neighbor from across the street was nearly to the blacktop, wanting to know if I had heard a shot. "Must have been a backfire" I opined, and at the sound of my voice that damned cat turned a somersault, throwing blood and squalling like he was being stuffed into a sausage mill, he tore into a wide circle, crossing the road headed right for the curlered and robed biddy, pouring blood and howling like a banshee. At about 10 feet, he recognized movement in front of him as the "lady" tried to turn and run. The cat skidded to a halt; chin down, dead as a mackerel.
By the time she got her face on, and came back out to reconnoiter the situation, said tabby was stashed a mile away, no body, no crime provable.
My story, that the cat had to have been hit by one of the speed demons that frequented our road, and had crawled away while the good lady across the street gathered her senses was at least plausible. The next-door neighbor and she searched for most of the morning but never did find the injured kitty.
Maybe not 10 lives, but for sure, 9.5!
"It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress." Mark Twain
06 April 2005, 08:15
poletaxquote:
I've never had to shoot one twice
never HAD to shoot one twice.
I seen em feel like shot filled beanbags.

My Strength Is That I Can Laugh At Myself,
My Weakness Is That I have No Choice.
06 April 2005, 08:17
poletaxquote:
worriedman
How can you have a name like that,with an outlook so bright, I gotta wear sunglasses?
My Strength Is That I Can Laugh At Myself,
My Weakness Is That I have No Choice.
06 April 2005, 08:24
worriedmanquote:
How can you have a name like that,with an outlook so bright, I gotta wear sunglasses?
Got as many daughters as I do, your a** will worry too!
"It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress." Mark Twain
06 April 2005, 08:27
poletax
My Strength Is That I Can Laugh At Myself,
My Weakness Is That I have No Choice.
quote:
Got as many daughters as I do, your a** will worry too
Only got one so far, but come October that might change...and yeah, I understand!
Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.
06 April 2005, 18:11
butchlocnever had to shoot one twice - man you are missing all the fun of an autoloader
06 April 2005, 20:08
worriedmanquote:
Only got one so far, but come October that might change...and yeah, I understand!
Bless their hearts, I love them with all my being! Nothing sweeter than a two year old little girl, and nothing with less sense than a 12 year old, unless you count chickens. From there to about the age of 35 they will tax your ability to believe what you see and hear.
"It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress." Mark Twain