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It is my sincere desire to provide readers of this site with the best unbiased information available, and a forum where it can be discussed openly, as our Founders intended. But it is not easy nor inexpensive to do so, especially when those who wish to prevent us from making the truth known, attack us without mercy on all fronts on a daily basis. So each time you visit the site, I would ask that you consider the value that you receive and have received from The Burning Platform and the community of which you are a vital part. I can't do it all alone, and I need your help and support to keep it alive. Please consider contributing an amount commensurate to the value that you receive from this site and community, or even by becoming a sustaining supporter through periodic contributions. [Burning Platform LLC - PO Box 1520 Kulpsville, PA 19443] or Paypal
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Use promo code ILMF2, and save up to 66% on all MyPillow purchases. (The Burning Platform benefits when you use this promo code.)
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My fucking mouser was sitting in the windowsill waiting to go outside. She ended up vomiting breakfast on the sill, down the wall, and *almost* into the HVAC duct. The price I pay, I guess, for a dead vole a day.
Schrodinger’s cat plots her revenge…
‘The smallest feline is a masterpiece” Leonardo da Vinci
Cats.
I’ve been around them for years and the ones I miss the most were the ones who lived up to their bad reputation and more. They decide in their own time whether or not someone is worth bothering with and will more or less choose their favorite people. Misplaced loyalty isn’t their strong suit.
I had a Little One who’d jealously hide her catches in my wife’s shoes and make me laugh like a fool. Another rather large guy would follow me like a shadow and sleep on me every chance he’d get. His rascally brother keeps me company now he’s gone and I know I’ll cry like a baby – again – when the time comes.
They’re quirky, naughty, cantankerous, and somewhat aloof small souls with severe attitude problems. If you can accept that and still love them despite it all, then you might’ve learned one of the small secrets of Life.
Kitty revenge dept: I assembled a metal shed a few years ago. The sexy mulatta had filled it up before I got home. Dammit! Last week, the cat got trapped overnight in there. Wife was cleaning out the place, she said the cat shit and vomited on everything. Ha!
We ended up with a mystery kitten, none of the queens would own up to some mistake. I could not pin it on either one. He grew to be nearly two feet long, very defined muscles. Like his dad, he liked the ladies. I found him on the side of the road one day, dead, presumably on his way to delight some slut across the way.
I didn’t recognize him at first but granny had noted he hadn’t been around to eat for a couple of days. I grabbed a shovel and went to bury him before he stunk up. I still stop by his burial site once in a while and remember a free spirit cat. Less that two years old, I wonder if the ladies miss him. Probably not, damn sluts.
I have this pic hanging on my tool box at work, as a warning of sorts.
I like both dogs and cats, but it’s true: Dogs have owners. Cats have staff.
Cats are f*cking disgusting … EEEEEEWWWW … Yucky!!!
Treat a dog nice, he thinks you are god.
Treat a cat nice, he thinks he is god.
Frickin’ cats. All right, I’ve got a cat story
Several years ago, while I was still away doing what I did far from the homefront, my dad had a couple of seriously hardcore dogs. These were about the smartest, most versatile dogs ever known. They went everywhere; hunting, horse chasing, moving cattle, killing coyotes (easy, EC; they’re gone now) – everything. Smarter than most hired hands, and extremely competent. Not to belabor, but the best and smartest dogs any of us have ever seen, before or since. Bear with me, folks.
Unfortunately, especially on a ranch, they were cat killers. The barns cats learned to lay low, and there were no house cats. My parents seriously tried to stop them, but finally the only answer was to shoot them. Oh, well, kitties, these dogs come first.
One day Dad was out in front of the barn, both dogs with him, of course. The house is about a hundred yards away. All of a sudden here comes a cat – big and fluffy with a crooked tail – strolling across the lot toward him. Had never seen it before. It gets about 20 yds away or so and the dogs see it. Immediate full speed to kill this interloper.
The cat watched for a moment and then charged for the dogs. When the dogs are about to jump on it, it leaps in the air and lands on Bonnie’s back. It settles them claws in hard and leans over and starts gnawing on her throat, while just reefing her hind claws like a windmill.
The dog starts yipping like crazy and heads for the house, with the cat riding her like a bad monkey. The other dog, Speck, is keeping up and trying to get to the cat on Bonnie’s back all the way. As soon as Bonnie streamlines under the pump house, the cat does a 180 and lands square on Speck. Same story all the way back to the barn, where Speck dives under the chute, through a hole she can barely get through.
Dad was laughing so hard, he could hardly breath.
For about the next week, it was full warfare. Every time that cat saw the dogs, it went straight for them. Ditto for them. They got their asses handed to them, every time.
About a week later, they finally kind of ignored each other. Fluff the cat could be sitting 10 feet away, licking itself and if Dad yelled “Cat!”, they would jump up and look all around like, ‘cat, where’s a cat, I don’t see any cat.” From then on, they chased cats, but never killed another one. Fluff ruled the roost for many years after that.
That is funnier than hell!