Small cat invents golf...

[desperance]

...which in his case involves knocking all the little soaps into the bathtub (The Drive), batting them down to the tap end (The Approach Shot) and then trying to get them into the plug-hole (The Putt).

Is genius. Is small furry genius.

Is small furry slightly-damp genius with soap on his paws, but hey.

Comments

[hawkwing-lb.livejournal.com]

...Is small crazy furry genius, no?

Sounds incredibly cute. And possibly very annoying. :)

Cats in tubs

[barbara-hambly.livejournal.com]

I am not a soaky-bath person. My beautiful long-haired smoke-calico, Jasmine, had never seen the tub with water in it, and was indeed under the impression that it was a games court of some kind. A couple of years ago I sprained my back (I forget how) but took a soaky-bath. Jasmine hopped up on the edge of the tub to check it out, missed her footing (there are less clumsy animals pulling the Budweiser wagon) and dropped her whole rear end into the water.
Of course she levitated out in shock and horror... but then, she couldn't figure out why her butt was wet. Or, rather, she'd never BEEN that wet, and didn't understand the sensation. So she tried to run around behind herself and get a look at what was going on with that weird feeling all over her butt... And of course, her butt retreated when she chased it. So she kept chasing it for quite a while before she gave up and went to take a nap.
Not the sharpest knife in the box.

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

Ah, clever cat.

Back in the day ... Iver (getting slightly stiff, slightly cranky), ping pong ball, bath ... happy cat who could scoot around on her back and side, playing ball of death round the walls of the bath.

(The daily solemn ten-minute ceremony of 'hey, where did that tail come from, I must kill it' is another matter.)

Re: Cats in tubs

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Hee. Is it the prejudice of a man who's always lived with shorthairs, d'you think, or do longhairs actually have a genetic predisposition towards being, um, less intellectually well-endowed?

PS - mmm, smoky calico. She does sound gorgeous...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

There is, clearly, something about baths. Misha used to jump into mine and chase her tail frantically as soon as the evil water had all drained away; I guess warm damp steaminess was an attraction, where your actual splish-splosh was obviously not.

And, yes, tails. Even in the last year of her life, when she was already ill, I found her chasing it: in a very slow, methodical kind of way, and needing to lean against the wall after 'cos she was all dizzy, but still...

[wishwords.livejournal.com]

That's adorable. I keep trying to tell L that cats have imaginations.

Re: Cats in tubs

[barbara-hambly.livejournal.com]

Well, God knows Little Nemo - my marmalade shorthair tom - is dumb as a brick as well as being the biggest sissy in the county, but I've certainly never met a longhair who I would trust to program my space-capsule. I suspect they're all so beautiful, they can get away with their intellectual shortfall (my favorite and most-beloved Pekinese was the same way).

That's your tail, dummy...

[barbara-hambly.livejournal.com]

The Wicked Rocket still does that, and she's over 10.

[pennski.livejournal.com]

Happy sigh!

Ours are nothing like so inventive.

Snowy decided to help me write my review today, confirming that I can still just about touch-type when I *really* can't see the keys.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I, on the other hand, cannot edit when I cannot see the text I'm meant to be editing, that I have scribbled usefully all over.

*moves Barry* (again)

Re: That's your tail, dummy...

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

Iver was a very earnest little cat when I first had her (she and her sister had had a rather tough start in life, and it took them a number of years to become fully socialised), and I think she found 'playing' a bit of a problem.

As she got older she developed a number of quite peculiar quirks and habits, including the 'playing with my tail' ceremony. And it was a ceremony in some ways. You could practically set your watch by her – 10 a.m. sharp, on the landing, outside the bathroom, thump, thump, thump as Iver chased her tail for a while (it always won) and then went off to do other Iverish things.

During the last couple of years (she was 18 when her kidneys failed, but had been as daft as a brush, in a good way, for years) she became a kind of feline sundial, wandering round the house to curl up in patches of sunshine as the sun moved round the house. She had no concept of being in the way, so if the patch of sunlight was outside the bathroom door, and the door was closed, too bad for the human requiring a visit of sudden necessity. In this household we have been rigorously trained in perfect bladder control by our cats.

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

Yep, that's how Iver chased her tail, slowly, precisely. Her brain was melting a bit but she was so sweetly doo-lally, like a favourite very vague granny it was always utterly charming. In many ways it was a great way to fade out; she loved everyone, they loved her, she adored the vet, the house was clearly run specifically for her every whim.