Thanks, folks. We've often noted, he wasn't exactly a good cat, but he was our cat.
The way I figure it, we wouldn't miss critters so much if they weren't worth it. And, on that note, one of my favorite Trouble stories:
Not long after we got ...the dog, I noticed we were getting drifts of fur all over the place. Since I'd moved in with a Roomba, I decided to see just how well it would do on insane amounts of pet fur.
Beauty didn't know what to make of the thing. She stayed back out of the way, puzzled look on her face. The Monster treated the Roomba as he did anything else: he ran away and hid. Andy alternated between ignoring it and fruitlessly trying to convince it to chase him.
Trouble, on the other hand, got up from where he was snoozing, went smack dab in the middle of the room, and plopped down on the floor as it trundled by. And eventually, the Roomba wound up on a collision course for the Old Man. And the Old Man just stared at it. It wouldn't _dare_.
It dared.
Trouble sprang up, claws out, and whapped the Roomba a good one. The Roomba's collision detection algorithm only turned it a little, and it bumped Trouble again, at which point he snarled and lit into the little red disc, attempting to beat the tar out of it in a flurry of speedy claws and gnashing of tooth. (He only had the one by then.)
The Roomba held its own for a moment or two, trying to get away, but Trouble's thrashing eventually convinced it that it had run into too many obstacles. It let out its "Something's wrong, I can't continue!" bi-tone, and powered itself down.
Trouble returned to his afternoon nap, and I never again turned the poor Roomba loose on the floor upstairs.
And that's the tale of how my cat once beat the crap out of a Roomba.
The way I figure it, we wouldn't miss critters so much if they weren't worth it. And, on that note, one of my favorite Trouble stories:
Not long after we got ...the dog, I noticed we were getting drifts of fur all over the place. Since I'd moved in with a Roomba, I decided to see just how well it would do on insane amounts of pet fur.
Beauty didn't know what to make of the thing. She stayed back out of the way, puzzled look on her face. The Monster treated the Roomba as he did anything else: he ran away and hid. Andy alternated between ignoring it and fruitlessly trying to convince it to chase him.
Trouble, on the other hand, got up from where he was snoozing, went smack dab in the middle of the room, and plopped down on the floor as it trundled by. And eventually, the Roomba wound up on a collision course for the Old Man. And the Old Man just stared at it. It wouldn't _dare_.
It dared.
Trouble sprang up, claws out, and whapped the Roomba a good one. The Roomba's collision detection algorithm only turned it a little, and it bumped Trouble again, at which point he snarled and lit into the little red disc, attempting to beat the tar out of it in a flurry of speedy claws and gnashing of tooth. (He only had the one by then.)
The Roomba held its own for a moment or two, trying to get away, but Trouble's thrashing eventually convinced it that it had run into too many obstacles. It let out its "Something's wrong, I can't continue!" bi-tone, and powered itself down.
Trouble returned to his afternoon nap, and I never again turned the poor Roomba loose on the floor upstairs.
And that's the tale of how my cat once beat the crap out of a Roomba.
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