I really don't make a habit of targeting housecats. Especially out of any form of anger, angst, or vindictiveness.

My grandfather has a couple down near his house, and as long as they stay reasonably healthy and don't cause any problems to speak of - I mind my business and let them mind theirs. If we get a sick one that risks infecting the others, I'll resolve the situation, but I look at it as an act of compassion for the overall health of them all, nothing personal.

However .....

I've been finding cat-prints on my truck of late - something that's never happened before, and something that I certainly object to and take very, very personal. But up until last night I didn't have a face to put with the paw prints.

Then last night I had to drive back into town after I'd been home for an hour or so, and as I went outside, I just happened to spot my feline antagonist (hereafter referred to as "the condemned") sitting on the hood of my truck, pretty as you please.

He sat right there as I walked up to my truck, and even calmly watched me as I picked him up, then politely drop-kicked him into the front yard in my best impression of an NFL field-goal kicker.

After that brief exchange last night I haven't seen "the condemned" around, but I'm sure he'll be back, and next time we meet, it's gonna be personal.

As of last night, I'm considering him volunteering to go coyote hunting with me.

Ben, do you have any dogs? Mine have always been the antidote to that disease known as the cat...... I was always fortunate growing up that a) nobody in my family ever liked/owned/suffered cats b) the aforementioned dogs made our property a cat-less environment, and c) I had a Daisy BB gun, a Crossman pump pellet gun, and a JC Higgins bolt action .22 that when loaded with CB caps was as quiet as a dead cat........ Where am I going with this? Glad you asked! All of the above contributed to a cat-free zone....... Sorry about that, but I'm feeling all of these emotions come out of me since I discovered this forum......

Ben, if you'd used pointy toed boots to kick that crat you coulda made a slipper out of it. Quite the fashion I understand.

Dan

Pres., TYHC

http://www.CalicoLeft.SiameseRight/BlueFortyTwoBlueFortyTwo

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There, there Whitworth. You can be honest with us here. We understand, WE HATE THEM TOO. Besides, as our Swedish friend says, cats are really a metaphor. N.S. Sherlock

NEVER kill the sick ones, they can infect the rest and help us on our mission!!

Good post Mr. Whitworth.
I want to echo N.S.s' sentiments.
We are here for ya cos we are you.
And speaking of getting yer shoes shined,a favorable rememberence swept over me,what with Mr. Bens' post?
I was at a new friends place,talkin',smokin',drinkin' and lyin' out by the trucks.Lo and behold, a yeller Tabby Tom shows up and is rubbing up against everyones legs.Right there in broad daylite.
It comes over to me and I guess it got a scent of my housecrat.I'm tryin' to listen to all the lies 'bout this guys wife has a cooter as big as a hatbox.(I wanted to mention that this all depended on the size hat ya wore,but I didn't know him well enuff.)
This friggin' Tom takes ta spraying my pants leg.
I lost it and hauled off and kicked Tommy. The Mofo only went about 12- 15 feet.I can spit that far.
The magic came about as this vile creature landed about 7 feet up into the side of a Quince bush.The Quinch ran along the property like a privacy fence. About 8 foot tall and 4 foot thick.Musta been 20 plants.
The guy that owned the hedge and the crat had just finished trimming em back with a 'lectric hedge trimmer.All the ends of the branches were 'punji' sticks now. If I had known that,I woulda spread feces onto the stubs.
The downside to this is I am a stranger to these people and all just stared at me, and at that buttlicking thing I wasn't quite done with.
The guy had a 8 or 10 year ole girl there and witnessed the retalitory strike.She was cryin' her ass off.Here comes Momma a'runnin'.Boobs a bouncin.Whatta Babe?
Mommy is pissed off as she could be.She was screamin' at yours truely 'til viens stood out on her neck and forehead.I got about half a chubbie. I like em like that, but this was my host' wife and the kid was there.And this is the first time I' hanging around these guys.I'm a big guy and don't worry about too many people,but all these guys were about the same attitude.
After the witch left,draggin the kid with her,I was thinking about how good my truck looked 25 feet distant.
The husband/dad/crat owner looked at me and and back at his ole lady,her stomping away.
I was watching his hands about the same time as I was backing toward my truck,and he starts jumping around with his arms in the air, saying "Touchdown".The others started doing the same thing,like I just won the game.Referees all around me.
These guys are some of my best friends now.
The crat had a buncha holes in him(but not deep 'nuff)and pulled thru.He left alot of blood where ever he laid,including Mommys arms.

Well, the condemned was out on the porch tonight when I drove up. He took off running into the woods when I stepped out. Guess he's still a might sore.

This might get a few laughs. My dog (actually, my daughters dog, the pup chose her so we are stuck with each other) was barking at the neighbours cat, which was pacing backwards and forwards on top of the fence, taunting the dog. As cats are prone to do.
The dog, stops barking, backs up and runs at the fence, hitting it hard! cat looses balance, falls down, (unfortunately for the cat), on our side of the fence. The dog even managed to catch it in the air!
Good dog!
Now all I need to do is find the shovel......


Merry Christmas.

Cheers, Dave.

How much do you want for the dog?

PT, that tail should go down in the AR annals, even turned into a sticky or something like that! That's what I like about the tortuous path fate takes sometimes, in this case bringing you the opportunity to bond with those fellas. Ya never know what will happen until you take the shot...

Dan

Pres., TYHC

http://www.PT.FuraPulitzer!

Good for you poletax. People like an honest man's reactions to the troubles of the world, It helps increase the human experience. Now about that cooter in your story.....

Dave, that dog is definitely a keeper!!!! LOL!! Damn that hurts it's so funny!

Marko

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Now about that cooter in your story

Them two are deevorced now.
I run around with him all the time,drinking,carousing,shootin'.Sometimes not in that order.
I've seen her out in bars and she is always trying to get me to tell her what is up with her Ex.
I've seen him clear the table, Pin Shootin',and I don't really want him asking me about kissing her bellybutton from the inside.
I try to distance myself from her.
Ya don't get old doing stupid stuff.

Hey there Whitworth! Got any good cat stories from Croatia? I just know they like them there like we do here.

Thanks pt. I always had a curiosity for nature. Why when I worked in Washington I used to go to the Smithsonian just to look at beavers but I never thought about looking at the cooters.

Damn I just finished plowing snow for a day and a half and was in a miserable mood until I read PT's post, it changed the whole day

Good work men!!!!Great posts!!!!!Kill'em ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!Clay

Mr. Poletax sir, Li sure not understand. You score touchdown with boy cat?

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You score touchdown with boy cat?

Hmmm....that thought never entered my mind.

Anyway,it wasn't a touchdown. More of a field goal.

Whitworth:

I grew up in the same environment as you. We were in quite isolated countryside (too rocky and hilly for regular crop farming) A couple of old ladies bought a few acres behind our property where they had a summer cabin. They had a large Persian cat. This critter was tended by them day and night.He was regularly brushed, combed, shampooed and turned out like a cat ready to go to a cat show. He also was a regular hunter. He and I recognized each other immediately as mortal enemies. One day I encountered him coming back with a quite large cock pheasant in his mouth. Worse! He was coming off our property! I hollered at him.He dropped the pheasant and actually snarled at me. I drew the the S&W, K-22 and shot him on the spot. (I had my permit at 18, legal in those days in NY) Like all killers I then covered my tracks and buried him under a stone wall by literally digging out the brush and some dirt. I lied for a long while and put on a long face to the old ladies (who really were nice people) about why he didn't come home. I never told anyone this story before. You know what? I STILL ain't sorry! What I regretted then was that I had to throw away the pheasant. I was quite good at lying to my parents - but I just couldn't figure out a story to explain how I found this dead pheasant!

In rual areas excuses aren't needed.

My favorite line is, "I heard some yotes yapping yesterday afternoon."