Are you a kitty-whipped cat slave? - Pet forum for dogs cats and humans

Love4himies · #1 October 19th, 2007, 07:52 AM

This was forwarded to me from a friend so I am not sure where she got it from but for all those cat owners I am sure these cats antics sound very familiar

Confessions of a Kitty-Whipped Slave

How I became a hostage to three cats

Once upon a time I was telling some Cats Forum members about Bubba's increasing bossiness in his old age. Bubba had all three of his human slaves pretty well trained. During the ensuing discussion, HOSTPat remarked, "You're sooo kitty-whipped." Even though we joked about it, the truth of those words could no longer be denied. I am kitty-whipped, and a slave to my cats too; so are Asa and Lance, the two he-men I reside with. We're not especially proud of it; it's not something we'd readily acknowledge in "polite company," but around here, we're among friends, and can confess to our slavedom.

Bubba's Methodology

Bubba was always a chatty cat, but sometimes his dialogue took on an annoying, demanding tone. It's hard to spell, but if you can imagine a pint-sized lion's roar, it goes something like mraaarw! and was often accompanied by a paw to the nose. The latter was applied gently at first if the recipient is sleeping, but with increased emphasis, eventually with one claw unsheathed, until the human slave awakens. Upon a successful eviction from bed, Bubba would trot ahead of his slave, occasionally throwing another mraaarw! over his shoulder. His goal was the utility room and once there, he expected his kitty-whipped slave to lift him to the top of the clothes dryer (where he always dined), to refill his food dish, and to pet and praise him while he eats. Don't even try a couple of pats and a quick exit; you'll be rewarded with a sharp left hook to the arm, delivered with surgical precision. This cat had eyes in the back of his head and claws like scalpels.

One day, my son, Lance, stormed into my office with Bubba in hot pursuit, mraaarwing all the way. "What does this blankety-blank cat want?" he demanded. "I've petted him, brushed him, and gave him food, but he wouldn't eat it. He won't shut up!"

When he admitted that the food was on the floor instead of the dryer, I explained in detail exactly what Bubba wanted. Lance trodded down the stairs, mumbling, withe Bubba following closely behind. I waited at the railing of our loft and listened. Sure enough, I soon heard food rattling in the dish and then blessed silence.

I can't stand to see a grown man cry.

(Continued from Page 1)

The J-Boys' Conspiracy

Not to be outdone by Bubba, Jaspurr and Joey have their own furry agendas. They can't compete in the raaarw category (indeed, they are both squeakers rather than meowers), so they use more subtle strategy to manipulate their human slaves.

While preparing to pencil a draft of this article, I decided to have a snack. Joey saw me pulling out a paper plate, and jumped on the kitchen counter, his whole face alight with anticipation, and his tail quivering with joy at the prospect of an unscheduled meal. I tried to bypass him, but was drawn back, stricken with guilt at the sight of that appealing, winsome look of trust. Oh well, I didn't need the extra calories, and Joey is happily scarfing up Nutro Salmon and Ocean Fish, as I write. I choose to ignore the smug look on his self-satisfied little face, in the interest of being a good slave.

Joey also uses a subtle aloofness to elicit tummy rubs, which he relishes with abandon. He'll stroll past me, caressing my leg with his tail, then run just out of my grasp when I try to pick him up. He then tucks his head under and rolls to the floor, tummy invitingly exposed. Any kitty-whipped slave within his sight cannot resist, and will give him those tummy scritches he craves, while feeling honored for the privilege.

Jaspurr is even more subtle with his manipulation techniques. He's a cool customer, who will one minute flop on my lap and favor me with the most loving gaze you've ever seen in a cat's eyes. A few minutes later, he will jump down and cast a dismissive glance over his shoulder as he strolls away.

I haven't yet figured out his motivation for this enigmatic behavior, other than that he's waiting until I'm thoroughly cowed, and will then put forth his demands to his kitty-whipped slave.

I can hardly wait to hear them...