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Cat Experts?

 

When I got home this evening, I found that my wife's cat had gotten into my wife's sliding door closet in the bedroom (this, as the cat has been told, is a "no no"). When the wife got home, I ratted out the cat, and my wife said "well, I've heard that cats, when they're going to die or give birth, tend to get into closets."

 

Is there any truth to this?

 

The cat's not pregnant.

 

Could the end be near? :w00t :rock

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so my brother wrote a story while he & my sister-in-law were in ukraine adopting my now neice & nephew, about what was happening there & how he felt becoming a new parent etc.

 

for one of my classes, i have to do an audio documentary & am going to use it!!! this is exciting for all sorts of reasons!!!

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In highschool,I had a cat that never left the basement,she evently showed up with a full coat of dreadlocks smelling like piss.We gave her away and cleaned out the basement and found she had pissed on almost everything............fucking hippies!

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In highschool,I had a cat that never left the basement,she evently showed up with a full coat of dreadlocks smelling like piss.We gave her away and cleaned out the basement and found she had pissed on almost everything............fucking hippies!

Did you ever find the stash of catnip?

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Last night I tried to crash & right outside the bedroom window,there was a cicada (or cricket,whatever) that was so fuckin' LOUD it was like there was an infinite loop of the end of IATTBYH goin' on. :stunned

I almost thought about goin' outside w/ a revolver & goin' HST on that fucker...

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I've always hated cats until we got our two, Turbo and Ollie, and since then, can't get enough of the little pussies.... :P

 

They love us too--almost every night they bring in a "trophy": a disembowled vole, rat, or bird of some kind.

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I think she was mental,kind of sad really. :ohwell

A cat that belonged to a housemate in college (3 buddies and myself) had her head accidently stepped on during a party (this is before I knew the cat) and consequently had to hug walls when crossing rooms and do several 360s to reach the food dish front-on. Her name was Shabby and she was quite the crabby little feline. She wouldn't let anybody touch her except the dude she belonged to. I guess I can't fault her for that, though.

 

He was out of town once and I had recently lost a 15 page research paper on the computer (I didn't know you had to hit "save" back in the 80s) and I was steaming mad. Shortly thereafter, I had put a pizza in the oven and when I went to take it out it fell cheese-side down on the kitchen floor. I furiously stomped that bitch of a pie and the cheese went flying everywhere. It landed on Shabby's head and back. None of us could help her get it off because she wouldn't let us touch her, so it had to remain on for several days until the dude she liked came home.

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