alexanderino
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 p.8 #5 · Post 85 1.2 versus 1.8 cat photos. | |
Thanks for the compliment, Luke. Must say your own entry stands out for all the right reasons.
Plenty of Caturday candidates in here. If you like cats, or cats with amusing captions, visit fark.com on Saturdays. A cat thread initiates Caturday, and is now a weekend tradition, one of those rare moments when the customary snark is laid to rest. Plenty of clever works to be relished.
Be prepared to go through the entire gamut of human emotions, though. Amongst the numerous images lie stories, and they're not always uplifting. From the latest Caturday comes this tale by 3felines:
My orange tabby cat, Barbie, lived to be 19. In the last year of her life, the only thing she could eat was London broil, hand-minced by me. I lived with my dad, who was almost 80, because he had bad emphysema, and needed someone around the house, although he could really do quite a bit for himself. Dad was raised on a farm during the Depression, and every time he saw me mincing Barbie's steak, he'd grumble, "Can't BELIEVE you're giving STEAK to a d****d CAT!"
I worked the night shift so I could be there during the day for dad, and one day I came downstairs at 2 p.m. and heard the food processor going in the kitchen. Dad liked to get big beef roasts from the supermarket on sale and grind up his own hamburger. I peeked around the door of the kitchen, and what did I see? Dad was standing there, with Barbie at his feet, and she yowled at him. He said, "What? You want some more? Well, all right, I guess you are kind of thin. Here you go," and he dropped a hunk of fresh-ground hamburger on the floor in front of her, which she gobbled up.
Neither of them heard me, because they were both pretty deaf by that point, but this performance repeated itself about 3 or 4 times before I walked into the kitchen and said to my dad, "So! Shouldn't give good beef to a cat, huh? You are SO busted!" He cleared his throat and acted all gruff, and said, "Well, the d****d cat was bugging me. Kept meowing at me. I just did it to shut her up."
Dad used to also take a lot of naps, and when he didn't know I could hear him, I'd catch him patting the bed or the sofa and saying to Barbie, "Well, come in if you're coming in. Need help getting up? All right, here you are. Good girl. Lie down now." I'd come in 30 minutes later and find them totally sacked out, with Barbie nestled against his stomach.
On her last day of life, I heard her howling at 5 a.m. She often did that, so I ignored her and went back to sleep. I got up at 8 a.m., and found her in the laundry room. She'd had a stroke, and was all messed up. I washed her, and told dad we'd have to go to the vet. It was Sunday, so the vet didn't open until 10. I wrapped my baby up in a towel and held her against my chest. She purred the whole time. Dad drove me over to the vet, and I reclined the passenger seat so she could lie down on my chest. She purred more loudly than she had ever purred in her life, and never stopped until the vet eased her off over the Rainbow Bridge.
I caught dad crying that night. Said he had something in his eyes ......Show more →
Edited on Jul 14, 2008 at 07:57 AM
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85 1.2
