quote:

Originally posted by N. S. Sherlock:
Well, I mave been goofing off lately and a couple of cats have been scoping out my cat attractor, er, bird feeder. I saw the paw prints on the F-150 one morning a few days ago and caught a glimpse of tabby as I drove into the yard. It just so happens that I've been thinking about really clobbering a fat orange tom with a bowling ball ever since I smushed one with a big rock a while back. I got a section of chute from a cement mixer truck and mounted it on the edge of the garage roof with a 4 foot drop in 8 foot run. Smoothed out the plant bed underneath and drop tested a gently released sixteen pound bowling for impact. Actually scored a 77, 2X on a SR-1 laying on the ground underneath the end of the chute. The ball would smush a gallon if industrial pack green beans pretty darn good too. Then I rigged up an electric remote control door lock solenoid with the plunger sticking up in the middle of the shute holding the ball from dropping and tested until I had the trigger length just right to silently release the ball. More testing on impact targeting too. Then I cuisinartly finely chopped a can of sardines in oil with a pound of rotten tuna from my buddy Jim at the meat dept. of the food store and smeared it all over the shute and ball. The sneaky cats soon adapted to the equipment and to the automatically triggered yard light I installed to observe their deperdations in the yard. I poured a 24" square pad of ready-mix using my secret catnip/stinky salmon additive right at the 10X place in the plant bed and did the sardine/tuna confidence building test again. I was ready to go bowling for cats from the comfort of my den with a couple of cat hating hunting buddies for witnesses. We were soon betting on which of the three crats would buy the dirt nap. About halfway into a bottle of Bacardi Gold, the yard light popped on and sure enough we watched three suburban cougars sneak in to the pad and start growling and pawing as they fought for position at the little cast-in bowl on the pad. I gave Jim the honor of triggering the solenoid in recognition of his support in the bait department over the years. Just then he hit the remote, the ball dropped, and STRIKE!!!!!. No spare to worry about for Jim. By the time the rum was gone they even dug the hole for me. What a pleasant winter of bowling. N.S. Sherlock