My cat chases dogs twice its size.. but a bear?
That's a bagpuss with balls.
Wow. My family had a tabby that struck fear into doberman pinchers and german shepards, but this is something else entirely.
The Great Bear is dead. Long love the Great Cat.
hee hee hee
Bears iz wusses.
Katz are the shitz.
It seems that this bear had never seen a cat before. I wonder if the colour of the moggy had something to do with it? What other critters in the woods would be orange? Maybe only foxes. Perhaps the colour triggered a warning response in the bear, much like brightly coloured insects signal venom.
That cat is my God.
The poor bear. Just minding its own business and then wham! Gets treed by a cat.
They're not making bears like they used to.
lol!
That's the funniest picture I've seen in a long, long time!
That is the funniest article I have read in a long, long time!
Perhaps the colour triggered a warning response in the bear, much like brightly coloured insects signal venom.
OMG! Venom-laden CATS! on a plane under a tree!
Word on the street has it that the cat was packin'
I'm afraid that it's not truly a tagline, but I think this must be immortalized somehow:
MonkeyFilter: That's a bagpuss with balls.
*sigh
I lubs it.
No comment.
Stories like this are why bears get drunk.
The poor bear was probably shocked. Larger animals often react that way when confronted with an aggressive, smaller animal. If the cat had run away (i.e., acted like prey), the bear probably would have taken off after it and killed it.
Orange cats are particularly feisty.
As difficult as it is to see why color would make a difference, I have to agree, TUM. Our current orange tabby will attack the largest of dogs, over and over, until I grab him and take him into the house. (Luckily, he isn't seeing red to the extent that he attacks me.)
Hee hee, I love this. My father, who is fond of bears, sent me the link to the story in an email with the comment "Vicious cats."
My 17 year old orange tabby has always been the toughest beast. I can totally see her going after something bigger than her.
Currently, she has to content herself with keeping her wayward tail in line via chasing, since she's an apartment cat.
I hope Jack the cat got a nice dinner and lots of cuddles for being so brave!
Bewildered bruin up a tree
a feline hiss has made ye flee
While creatures strange patrol this lawn
'tis best for all that ye be gone
And if this way ye e're come back
remember well that Mad Orange Jack.
orange tabbies are something else. i have a friend whose Lilly, maybe barely 8 lbs., and strictly an indoor cat, has lured in and caught two birds.
*&heart; orange cats*
I knew an orange tabby called Jack once. He had one eye (hence, One-Eyed Jack). King of all he surveyed, but soft as putty with me. When I called for him, he would come running fast, in that stiff-legged run cats adopt when they know there's a treat. But I never fed him any food, just lots of love.
gah, that came out all right in preview! Must've hit the delete key by accident or summat
♥ ♥ ♥
))s to islander!
Those were bold bananas, once.
I must respectfully disagree with this talk of orange tabbies being tough. At my domicile it's the much smaller black beastie who is the Queen of Fierce.
That there were lovely, Islander!
And yeah, the blackies are tough, too. But the ones I've had have been more the slow, silent, "I'll get my revenge on you when you least expect it" type.
Methinks that judging someone's character traits based on the colour of their fur is dangerous.
in the old days bananas
came first to the fray
but now the ap-peel of it's
dwindled away
they wait to be stripped
or fried in the pan
or sliced upon cereals
by some hungry hand
wow West Milford is the town next to Ringwood NJ, in which I lived for nearly 10 years....crazy!
Had the cat been in better health, I wonder if he would have tolerated a deer's coming right up to him.
Although with cats ye never know.
Nor, apparently, with deer.
Deer are lknown to lick salt.
Supposition: Wonder if failing kidneys or the cat's meds could have anything to do with the kitty being salty?
Salty pussy?
Nooooo.
Nasty boys! Don't mean a thing!
Who's that eating that salty p...
Man, I just can't do it.
alas, 'tis cold comfort
the poor kitty found here
methinks he's better off
being canoodled by yon deer
Bear
for Maurice Kenny
Monday on the way to work
I must have taken a wrong turn.
Bougainvillea climbed the doors,
an unfamiliar alley
in the silence of trees.
The bear rose before me
in a cloud of fur,
roared
in every language at once.
I threw the dictionary at him.
I threw my calculator at him,
the keys in my pockets, my credit cards.
I threw the Bhagavad Gita, its pages dog-eared,
the Constitution, the original,
all Rilke's letters.
I threw the Cabala at the bear,
My God.
I shouted.
The bear's shadow grew all around me.
--Chad Sweeney
Very nice, bees. I enjoy this poem for the humor at the end.
The Bear
The bear puts both arms around the tree above her
And draws it down as if it were a lover
And its chokecherries lips to kiss good-by,
Then lets it snap back upright in the sky.
Her next step rocks a boulder on the wall
(She's making her cross-country in the fall).
Her great weight creaks the barbed wire in its staples
As she flings over and off down through the maples,
Leaving on one wire tooth a lock of hair.
Such is the uncaged progress of the bear.
The world has room to make a bear feel free;
The universe seems cramped to you and me.
Man acts more like the poor bear in a cage,
That all day fights a nervous inward rage,
His mood rejecting all his mind suggests.
He paces back and forth and never rests
The me-nail click and shuffle of his feet,
The telescope at one end of his beat,
And at the other end the microscope,
Two instruments of nearly equal hope,
And in conjunction giving quite a spread.
Or if he rests from scientific tread,
'Tis only to sit back and sway his head
Through ninety-odd degrees of arc, it seems,
Between two metaphysical extremes.
He sits back on his fundamental butt
With lifted snout and eyes (if any) shut
(He almost looks religious but he's not),
And back and forth he sways from cheek to cheek,
At one extreme agreeing with one Greek
At the other agreeing with another Greek
Which may be thought, but only so to speak.
A baggy figure, equally pathetic
When sedentary and when peripatetic.
Robert Frost
bears
such ambiguous beasts
waking and sleeping
in cycles humans
can't know
bears sink
with the annual round
bears periodically
drown
in an ursine urge
to sleep
to ignore a morning sky
for months on end
until
stark starving
shrunken
shrivelled
at last bears fumble forth
from sleep
their paunches now one ache
to confound and counter
a too-thoroughly
calendered world
where too few take
(or give)
a break
on a planeunder a tree! Word on the street has it that the cat was packin' I'm afraid that it's not truly a tagline, but I think this must be immortalized somehow: MonkeyFilter: That's a bagpuss with balls. *sigh I lubs it.