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Post by Sleepy on Apr 12, 2009 21:30:32 GMT -5
We actually got my cat when we moved into this house about 14 years ago. The people we bought the house from left their pets behind (how anyone could so cruelly do that is beyond me) and we ended up adopting the poor cat in the end. There was also a dog, but the realtor kept him as her own. The cat did have some issues for awhile; he refused to enter the house and was terrified of brooms (I can only assume they beat him with the broom). He did recover though and was wonderful to have around. We eventually had to put him to sleep after medical problems, but he was about 20 years old when that happened. Good memories of him...  My sister has also adopted a few stray kittens who were abandoned in the city. |
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Post by Angel Kaida on Apr 13, 2009 13:19:34 GMT -5
I don't know where we got my first cat (I was three when we got her), but she was amazing. She put up with my childish antics and was actually quite protective of me; whenever I got in trouble she would climb into my lap and purr until I felt better. She ran away after we moved, and my mom thinks she was poisoned, as we moved into a very small town where people were pretty malicious toward outsiders  My second cat (barring one of the kittens Ashley had, who had some kind of tumor in her throat and was put down while I was visiting my grandparents; thanks a lot, Steve!) was a pet store kitty, and possibly the most maladjusted animal I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. What a little monster. We ultimately had to give him away because he kept attacking my little brother (at the time, Andrew was three or four) for no reason; he basically just waited around to find a time when he could leap on you, all claws and teeth. My puppy now was purchased from an elderly couple, and he is a lovely little boy (he is not actually a puppy, but he is a Maltese, and I can't think of him as an adult). He has a few issues, like occasional fits of really loud barking and thinking he's a very BIG dog, but he's usually really sweet and well behaved. |
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Post by antichrist on Apr 13, 2009 13:24:55 GMT -5
When I worked at a pet store I would actually find boxes of puppies, kittens, bunnies, and hamsters outside the door when I came to open up in the morning. Store policy was to call the owner, who would take them to the vet, get them checked out, then put them up for sale.
I gave one cat to my sister because he wouldn't take to being an apartment cat. He was so funny, my sisters pitbull tried to get him to run by barking at him. Hoss (his name) just looked up, gave a half-hearted hiss, and went back to cleaning himself. The pitt had no idea what to do. Another time my niece (I think she was about 4) was rubbing his fur backwards. He stood up on his hind legs, and bitch-slapped her about 5 times across the face. Claws were in, he didn't hurt her, but it got his point across. I really think he was happier at her house, even though going out was what killed him early.
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