My favorite, at least right now...

Smokie (whose name I use in my signature) is a somewhat spoiled brat.
Periodically, Paw will take me away for a few days.  You know since I
don't get out much (ha).

So, we go on our little trips.  Grandmeowmie (my mother-in-law) comes
over and feeds them.  Well, she puts Smokie's dish down on the floor by
our bedroom door since Smoke doesn't want to be seen by anyone but
Meowmie and Paw (well and my dad on the rare occasion he comes for a
visit).

We get home, and Smokie verbalizes, non-stop, for at least 20 minutes
to me.  It sounds alot like:

"You left, and Barnabus chased me all over the house, then Leonidas
picked on me, and no one was here to make him stop, and Barnabus bit my
tail and Leonidas eats my food, and they both keep me from using the
litter box unless it's really early in the morning, and you know I need
my beauty rest, and I was all alone, and I got scared because I heard a
noise, and you weren't here to scritch my ears, and the bed is not
comfortable without you in it, and there was no tv on because that
*woman* (MiL) doesn't know which channel I like, and my water wasn't
set to exactly the way I like it, and, and, and...."

I'm not kidding, you can almost hear her saying that.  Then Paw walks
in and she starts all over again.  The whole time weaving around the
legs and standing up to get ear skritches.  It's actually quite funny,
and if you look at her and talk (Really?  Were they that mean to you?)
she gets almost strident her appeals.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

Many of the best stories from the group can be found at
http://www.flippyscatpage.com/catphiles.html
Sometimes when I need a pick me up I just go there and re-read a few
(though lately RL has cut into my online time and I am forever pressed
for time). BTW, Flippy gave Sammy and LB have their own page at
http://www.flippyscatpage.com/littlebitandsammy.html

And of course there's the annual Mouser voyage, organized of course by
Cap'n Pine Cone and his secretary Pam Shirk (tanada), but with several
from the group making contributions
This year's voyage -still ongoing - is at
http://mousertails.blogspot.com/
and previous years at http://home.earthlink.net/~tanada/id1.html

Hmmm, hope those links are all correct, I didn't take time to double
check.

One of my favorites concerned the late, beloved Isadora (RB) I was having
porkchops for dinner one night, and so I had two of them sitting on the
kitchen counter, while I got my frying pan hot.  It was a warm summer night,
and I had my patio door open.  As I'm swirling a bit of oil around in the
pan, I hear a THUD, and when I turned, there was only ONE porkchop on the
counter.  I turned off the stove, stuck the other pork chop back in the
fridge and went to investigate.  The little thief had dragged her prize out
to the patio, but when she saw ME, she knew it was politic to run. =o)  So
she grabbed the porkchop again and DID run  with the bone hitting her in the
chest and me in hot pursuit.  I did catch up to her before long and took the
chop away from her. But even though I was furious at her sheer GALL in
stealing my raw dinner, I knew it must have been an hilarious sight to any
onlookers: A little spotted cat running like crazy with a great big raw
porkchop in her mouth, and her large, furious, apron clad owner  runnning
after her! I almost wished I'd had a video of the whole thing. Alas, the
porkchop was ruined, but I wasn't about to let her eat it, both for her
health and for the breach of discipline.

Then there was the time Pan got the zoomies, but didn't QUITE make it up to
the top shelf in my kitchen.  He missed rather badly and fell into the
dishpan, which, alas, was full of tired dish water. (Fortunately, it was
almost empty, and he didn't fall on anything sharp.) He escaped, dripping
and VERY embarrassed, via the dishpan.  Poor boy, he was SO humiliated at
having to be dried off with a towel! He gave me this contrite look as if to
say "I am sooooooo sorry...."

Melissa

There are a lot of my stories about Frank and Nikki at
http://www.flippyscatpage.com/catattack.html

One of my favourite stories to look back on now is from a couple of
months ago. Miranda (then known as Mere) had recently become part of the
family, but Nikki and Frank hadn't quite accepted her yet. One evening I
had gone to bed. Frank joined me and settled down by my feet. Then
Miranda came and settled down by my legs - on Nikki's spot! Oh-oh. Soon
Nikki came stomping into the bedroom, and I was preparing for the hiss
and swat as she would oust Miranda from her spot on the bed. But Nikki
stood for a moment by the bed and looked up at Miranda, then she plodded
off to the other room. Soon we heard a strange rustling noise. Miranda
sat up and pricked up her ears. She couldn't resist it, she just had to
go and find out what that noise was. She bounded off into the other
room. Soon after that, Nikki came plodding back into the bedroom, jumped
into bed and settled down in her spot by my legs.

I have to get off this box and get ready for work, so there'll be more of
these later. But for now, I submit my very first post on this board,
retrieved from the CatKB archives, entitled "My cats don't keep Kosher!"

And so my husband had to work late on his birthday and miss his own
party at his parents' place. Mama Singh brought the leftovers the next
day, some cake and Indian vegetables and about two pounds of good maple
cured ham.

The hubby came home for lunch and cut for himself a nice slice of the
ham, when he got the sudden urge to use the litter box, and while he was
so occupied he heard the foreboding sound of a nice slice of ham
splatting on the kitchen floor. Through doing his business, he went to
see our Stosh and Roxie (Rokusaburo to you Iron Chef fans!) and our
foster-kitty Brian, noshing on a ham slice that had been knocked to the
floor, and sliced into three pieces against the grain! Our Roxie, the
most timid and dainty of the three, was the culprit, with Smell of Pork
on her paws as well as breath.

Two days later Hubby came home to fix a ham sandwich and watch whatever
it is that men watch on ESPN. The three cats sat right in front, begging
for a munchie. After Hubby took four bites from his sandwich, Roxie
figured that it must be a game--the two-leg takes a bite, so now it's
kitty's turn--and craned her neck up, grabbed the end of the ham slice
in the sandwich, and pulled out the whole thing. When the shock wore
off, Hubby decided to concede defeat and cut up the ham for the three
bandits-in-waiting. To his surprise, the two bigger and more dominant
cats allowed Roxie not only first dibs, but to get the biggest piece.
Thus proving that maybe there is something to the fable of Aesop about
the lion's share.

Blessed be,
Baha

There is nothing quite as amusing as watching kitties play; unless you're
watching Kitty Sumo.

A little over a year ago, we just had Stosh and Roxie, and a big fella named
Brian whom we were fostering for a friend who was moving to England. Brian
and Stosh both hadn't had much contact with other cats. Stosh was then
barely a year old, Brian five and twice Stosh's size.

Somehow, they discovered the art of Sumo, and Brian looked the part too: he
was a big fat cat, with a pattern like a Holstein cow! I swear these guys
would bow to each other and begin a match to push each other around and
knock the other down. They were very fair too. They ttok turns knocking one
another down, and they'd get up, put their front paws on each other's
shoulders, and begin wrestling again. In the 3 months we had Brian, our
little Stosh ate to compensate for being small. He was rescued from a place
where he didn't get fed regularly, and was a little wussy thing at first.
Now, he's not fat but a big burly hunk of he-cat (so says his vet) and has
developed a love of physical culture. He taught his little sister Brandy to
wrestle, and both get a good workout.

Blessed be,
Baha

Because I'm a professional, erudite lady full of decorum and propriety,
(yeah right) there is nothing like a fart to make me fall over laughing!

We'd gone to othe in-laws and had an Indian dinner full of lentils and
beans. The next day we went to our gurudwara (Sikh place of worship) where a
luncheon was served, full of--what else--lentils and beans. And afterward we
went to visit our buddy Dennis, whose dinner du jour was chili.

That night, it became a contest: the two-legs vs. Brandy.

Brandy likes to jump on top of us, preferably right on the gut where she can
have a soft landing, and then walk all over us and lick our faces and hands.
(Her foster-mama raised her with a dog, and I think she learned from Rover.)
That night, as we grew nebulous from two days of beans and lentils, Brandy
trampolined my gut and caused me to lay one. Not to be undone, she looked at
me with her typical spoiled-baby-cat defiance and laid one herself.

Louie actually woke up to the fetid air about his delicate nostrils, waved
his pillow around, swore and opened a window, on a chilly
almost-Buffalo-winter night. Then Brandy jumped him and he laid one. After
whacking my husband with a book or clock or something, missing because I was
laughing, Brandy then backed her plump little tuchus right into his face and
laid one.

"You two deserve each other!" he said, and went to sleep on the couch. And
then Roxie came to curl up with him, and laid one.

We now limit our Indian intake to once a week.

Blessed be,
Baha