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Darn Funny Cat Stories

Updated on February 25, 2008
Climbing Cat
Climbing Cat

Whenever I’m confronted with someone who can’t understand my love for my cats, I remind them of the research that shows pets are good for your health. With this in mind, I thought it would be fun to share fun stories about cats for those of you who cannot have, or do not want, pets of your own. Hopefully, these stories will make you smile or laugh, and bring you some of the relaxing health benefits having a pet can provide. Some of these stories might make you remember why you don’t have a pet, but the people these things happened to now laugh when they look back.

For those of you with pets, particularly cats, I’m sure you will enjoy these too.

Sleepy Cat
Sleepy Cat
Old Beer Mats
Old Beer Mats
One Tall Tree
One Tall Tree

Tiger & Spot

These two cats lived their entire lives in California where they spent their days basking in the sunlight. Tiger was, funny enough, a tiger-striped cat, but Spot had the fluffiest black and white fur. Spot got his name for the giant white spot on his nose. Spot and Tiger were my grandpa’s cats; and, ironically, bear resemblances to my two cats. Anyway, my grandpa is a packrat—that man keeps everything, from snake skins to old railroad pins to matchboxes. One of his favorite things to collect are beer mats. In fact, I remember finding stacks of them all over his living room (his girlfriend no longer lets him collect all of these things). Grandpa enjoyed playing the beer mat game with the cats. Honestly, I think he enjoyed people’s reactions when they learned of his game.

Basically, the cats settle comfortably on the floor, as cats do. Then everyone gathers around the cats, and toss beer mats onto their bodies. The mats are fairly light, so it is like tossing paper onto them. The point is to see how many beer mats you can get onto the cat before they move and knock them off. Spot was the best cat to play with because he would let you get through three stacks without even moving. Tiger tended to last through one stack, then head outside. Not Spot, though. After he moved (usually flicking a few mats off with his tail), he would let you start the game all over again. You could literally sit and play the beer mat game with Spot for hours. I think Spot spent most of his time with a sack full of catnip, so everything was cool with him.

Tiger wasn’t as laid back as Spot. Tiger sure could be a lover, but he was a bit crotchety. He always wanted everything to go his way. He especially didn’t like it when Grandpa went out of town, although a perfectly nice friend came over to take care of the cats. Once, when Grandpa went on an especially long trip, Tiger really got annoyed with the situation. To show everyone what he thought of it, he took a dump in the middle of Grandpa’s bed. The friend saw this, so he washed the sheets and blankets, leaving them folded into a nice pile.

When Grandpa got home from his trip, he found the neat pile on his bed. On top of the pile was another poopy gift. That was one smart cat.

Frisky Felix

My aunt and uncle have three sons, two older cats (one of whom is always catnapped by the crazy neighbor and the other only has one eye), and a dozen chickens. So I thought they were crazy when they added a kitten to their family. It turns out that Felix fits perfectly into their household—he’s insane. He’s an adorable kitten with the sweetest white paws, he loves to be held and cuddled, and he can be found curled into any crack and cranny in their house. Like most kittens, he’s fearless and curious about everything, but he doesn’t have any common sense.

We were gathered for dinner at my aunt’s house one night when my grandparents were in town. Still a tiny kitten, Felix wasn’t yet allowed to go outdoors alone, but that didn’t stop him from trying. The little bugger finally succeeded, vaulting out of the house as though he’d planned it for weeks, and straight up the tallest tree in the yard. Felix didn’t stop on one of the low branches, oh no, he had to climb as high as he could go. In fact, he climbed until the branches grew to thin to support his tiny weight.

This is a tall tree rooted in a steep hill. Half of the tree hangs over into some bushes, creating a decently soft break if Felix were to fall. The other half stretched ominously out past a stone wall to the sidewalk—basically, we had to pray that if Felix fell, it wouldn’t be on hard cement side. So there we were, in the middle of a dark, winter evening, huddled out under a tree, attempting to coax Felix down. The little devil had climbed so high that he couldn’t come back down. After awhile, we had to go inside, leaving the poor baby up in the tree. We could hear his sad meows all the way in the living room.

The next day, I called to see if Felix had come down, only to hear he still sat up in the tree, yowling. Neighbors and passersby kept coming to the door to offer rescue ideas, but nothing seemed to work. My aunt did the next logical thing: she called the fire department. Unfortunately, the fire department had far too many other important things to do (like put out fires and save people’s lives) to come rescue a kitten out of the tree.

On the third night, I stopped by their house, convinced Felix would have come down already. But no, he was still high up the tree, crying out for help as pitifully as ever. We were afraid he would pass out from hunger and fall. My grandparents insisted they would reschedule their flight home if Felix didn’t come down before they left—they couldn’t leave with all of this excitement going on. We tried everything we could to coax the cat down, but he wouldn’t budge.

Finally, the next morning, they heard a triumphant meow, then a scratching on the backdoor. There stood a skinny Felix, exhausted and shivering. He ate an entire bowl of food before collapsing on a rug in front of the fireplace. My grandparents were able to make their original flight. But, Felix still loves climbing trees.

Rub my belly, please.
Rub my belly, please.
Yup, I climbed up here!
Yup, I climbed up here!

The Daredevil and the Lounger

My own cats are named Benny and Freya, and they are little rascals in their own ways. Freya is our sweet, plump girl. She is a cuddler, but very opinionated—always speaking her mind, letting us know when she wants something, which happens to be always. A cat of leisure, Freya spends her days finding new ways to show us her belly, inviting us to give it a rub. She’s mastered the art of getting someone, or something, to pet her: our hands, legs, shoes, backpack, wall, chair, or anything else she can rub against.

Freya loves to hide, thinking nobody can see her, whether it is in a box, beneath a rug, or under the coffee table. She’s funny in a sweet, loving way, but you would have to know her to really appreciate her humor. Now, Benny, on the other hand…

Benny is about two weeks younger than Freya, and although they are now 1½ years old, he remains the precocious kitten. He loves to jump and climb onto everything, from the refrigerator to the windowsill to the top of doors. He is an acrobat who can balance himself on the narrowest of ledges. There is nowhere in our home that he hasn’t explored or sniffed, from the tops of bookcases to the cupboard under the bathroom sink.

As long as he stays off of the kitchen counter and dining room table, we pretty much let Benny climb and jump anywhere his heart desires. He’s talented enough not to knock stuff over or scratch anything during his adventures. One night, though, he went too far. I was in the shower, washing my hair, when I heard Benny screech. He must have made the sound as he leaped. Suddenly, I saw a flurry of dark fur and claws, above me, trying to balance on the shower curtain rod. There I stood in my birthday suit, all soaped up, with a freaked out cat about to fall into the shower. I screamed for my husband to help, reaching my arms up to help Benny balance himself. But I was wet, so he tried to shrink away from me, making the entire situation worse. It really only lasted a matter of seconds, but time slowed down as I imagined him falling towards me, claws frantically reaching out to latch onto something as an anchor, but finding only me. Luckily, my husband recognized the frenzied call in my voice, and came in to save the day. From that day on, Benny meows like crazy whenever any of us are in the shower.

Luckily, if he gets into too much trouble, Freya just bites him in the butt, and he shapes up.

Please share your funny cat stories in the comment box below. Ah, can't live with 'em, but you can't live without 'em.


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    • irenemaria profile image


      6 years ago from Sweden

      Hehehe. I feel good after reading your hub. I love cats and have had really many in my life.

    • profile image

      Celia Herbert 

      7 years ago

      I like your website very much. Maybe you would like to check out my website It is about a group of semi-feral cat who are being studied by Scientists who have devised a Linguistic Decrypting Computer that enables them to understand 'cat language' !!!

    • profile image

      Caline and Frère 

      7 years ago

      We're two cute French cats and this is our story:

    • profile image


      7 years ago

      Hey there,

      I'm a big fan of your website, and as a fellow cat lover I thought you might be into this cat video; it's a cat personality test based on the Briggs-Myer system and it's hilarious!

    • profile image


      7 years ago

      Thanks-I'm a cat lover who owned cats till this apartment I live in now where we can't have cats. Enjoyed it. I watch Cats From Hell on Animal Planet too. Cats are great company. I miss cats and your stories filled me up for this week.

    • profile image


      7 years ago

      I have a 5 year old cat named Zipper. He is an orange and brown striped cat with white paws and belly, and he has a white and orange striped tail. Zipper is a rescue cat. He was found on the street after the hurricane Katrina and taken to a shelter. When he was 2 and when I lived in a 2 story apartment he would always look out the window. It was late at night and I was watching TV when I heard a screech and something that sounded like paper crinkling up. I went to my bedroom and found that my window and the screen was destroyed. I ran outside to find Zipper sitting on the ground still tangled up in the screen and blinds hissing and screeching at me. After untangling him and receiving numerous bites and scratches I brought him inside.

      To this day Zipper has not looked out a single window.

      I also have a pitch black kitten named Midnight. Shes about a month old. A few weeks ago while I was at Goodwill I felt something tug at my leg and there she was, so I picked her up and took her home. A few days ago, while I was playing with Midnight, my dog Sandy came in the room and sniffed the kitten. Midnight hissed and scratched Sandy's nose (shes ok). Sandy hasn't come near my bedroom since.

      Hope you enjoyed them. =)

    • DzyMsLizzy profile image

      Liz Elias 

      7 years ago from Oakley, CA

      Just found this hub on FaceBook via a link from The World's Greatest Cathouse.

      Precious, funny stories--and wonderful to meet another cat-loving hubber!

      Voted up, and danced all over the rest of the buttons. You also have a new follower.


      My funny cat story involves my Senior Orange Marmalade kitty. As a kitten, he snuck into the bathroom while I was having a bubble bath soak. He stood on his hind legs, and patted at the bubbles. It was too much. He leapt onto the edge of the tub for a closer look, patted more bubbles, and was most intrigued.

      However, he wanted to explore further, and stepped across the faucet spout onto the other side, where, unfortunately, the rim of the tub is much narrower. He had no space to turn, and it was wet and slippery. In he went, and disappeared under the bubbles and into the water!

      It happened so fast I couldn't prevent it, but managed to snatch him out before he began frantically thrashing. Much like your shower incident, I yelled for hubby to come with a towel. I had the little miscreant by the scruff, and handed him out to be dried.

      He then sat down to further dry himself, and found he did not care for the taste of bubble bath, so he sat looking very forlorn and bedraggled. Being a long-haired cat, he looked as if he'd been on a starvation diet, as all that wetted 'fluff' made him appear quite shrunken.

      It goes down in the annals of "missed $10K video moments!"

    • profile image


      8 years ago

      I hae a kitten,4 months old named Garfield who loves to take long walks with me,stalk me,run in and out of my legs as I cook and/or go up and down stairs and sit on my face as I sleep !

      But I wuv him :-)

    • profile image


      8 years ago

      Love the stories!!! Here is mine:

      Before my cat Tai passed away I had many adventures with her. She was my first cat and she was the best cat to have, she helped a lot of people get over their fears of cats. She was a rescue cat and had fallen into a lake in the back of a woman's house. She was completely traumatized. Not to mention she was a house cat that was dumped outside. So ever since then she refused to go near water. The first time she saw me in the water she ran to the shower looked at me worried and concerned. She cried and wanted to get me out of the harmful water, but at the same time she didn't want to touch the water. So she ran out of the bathroom tried to meow and get people to help me and then would run back into the bathroom to make sure I didn't melt or something. She did this constantly until I got out of the shower. Of course when I would come out she wouldn't go near me but she always gave me this look of relief like okay you are fine dont do that again.

    • lydia115 profile image


      8 years ago

      i have a cat named phoenix who is a black cat, she has a white patch on her tummy, and she is a proper character she's very small and light as a feather.

      In the evening she tends to get really hyper and starts to chase thin air my other two cats thinks she bongers! But the strangest thing is, if you give her a toy to play with she won't play it she will just carry on trying to catch air !!

      also she hates it when shes alone at night she meows with a purr

      so all you'll hear at night is purmoew purmeow!(which gets pretty annoying) so you pick her and put her on the bed thinking that she will go to sleep. But oh no she doesn't she hates sleeping where people can see her so she rubbs your face when you are sleeping and licks you if you taste any good. in the end we have to put outside!

      like i said in the other paragraph phoenix hates sleeping where people can she her, so she goes and hides. Sometimes she would let you know where she is hiding because the door needs to be opened for. (this is usually for the cupboards under the stairs as all the coats are in there).When she doesn't tell anyone where shes going someone would of left something open. so this is sought of a hide and seek for us. you can properly see where this going to lead.As soon as some one has found phoenix they most often jump or make a big scream as she would be found in a drawer/wardrobe and she black she can camouflage easily which very good a finding black things.

    • LoganTheWriter profile image


      8 years ago from Alabama

      The cats have laser eyes!

    • Christoph Reilly profile image

      Christoph Reilly 

      8 years ago from St. Louis

      These are funny stories, Stacy. Thanks for brightening my day!

    • profile image


      8 years ago

      "Escorting a Cat”

      By Peter Wood

      I looked down at her and she looked up at me. “Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked.


      It was a cute, furry face -- black, white and yellow -- and her tail was switching back and forth.

      “Just don’t run away, okay?” I said.

      I opened the front door and she slid out, brushing against my leg. I set the timer on my wristwatch and I followed her. I was hoping for a pleasant thirty minute walk.

      She stepped off the porch, hopped down the rock ledge, trotted along the side of our house and ran across the backyard. Then she ran up the hill toward the cypress bush and crept inside. She sat on a soft bed of leaves and calmly peeked out through the branches into the nearby woods.

      When I was younger, I never would have had the patience to walk a cat, or wait for it to emerge from under a bush. But now I enjoy the solitude it brings. I enjoy being alone with my cat.

      My wife wants to keep our cat safe inside the house, with soft pillows and plush carpeting. But I think that’s cruel. I say, a cat should be a cat. A cat should sniff, explore and experience the world.

      My wife insists I walk our cat on a leash. But me walking a cat on a leash is not going to happen.

      Our compromise is this: I escort the cat. Wherever the cat goes, I go. So, essentially, the cat walks me.

      I’ve been escorting Kiwi each day after work and, recently, have realized I am bonding more with my cat than with my wife. I am learning so much about this beautiful little creature. She loves climbing high into trees, eating insects, and sniffing deer poop in the grass. This summer she was stung on her pink nose by an angry yellow jacket while sniffing a poisonous mushroom. If my wife knew any of this, she’d have a coronary.

      Honestly, I enjoy getting out of the house to walk the cat. I enjoy watching Kiwi crouch down and wiggle her little butt before she attacks a tree. I enjoy watching her tentatively paw green grass, spiders and soft moss. I laugh at her wide-eyed, befuddled expression when she contemplates the acrobatic squirrels jumping from tree to tree, or the birds pirouetting in the blue sky.

      Someone once said, “A dog is prose; a cat is a poem.” I agree. Our cat is a poem with fur. My wife and I picked her out of a cage from the animal shelter about a year ago.

      It’s peaceful walking my cat. A cat does not argue with me or yell. It simply goes about its own business. I merely follow. There is no friction or difference of opinion with my cat.

      Sometimes I step out of myself and watch myself watching Kiwi. My neighbors must think me eccentric—an odd middle-aged man, always alone, wearing a red hat, smiling at something in a bush or a tree.

      Watching my cat, I’ve discovered she’s a graceful and agile hunter who thinks falling leaves are animals. She enjoys rubbing against thorny pricker bushes. I’ve also noticed she’s becoming more confident and, with a rolling gait, is venturing deeper into the woods behind our home.

      As a younger man, I didn’t observe things much, or appreciate simple pleasures, like walking a cat. But I do now. Consequently, I’m happier. I’m content being alone with my thoughts and my funny pet. Sometimes I bring along the word jumble from the local newspaper, or an unread section from the Sunday news. I sit on a tree stump, or lean against a tree and periodically look up, not wanting to miss anything special, like Kiwi pawing at a worm or chasing a chipmunk.

      Our young daughter adores our cat, too. Since she is our only child, my wife and I figured a cat could be an excellent companion—like the little sister she never had.

      After school, our daughter enjoys putting Kiwi in grocery bags, playing fetch with her, or dressing her up in dainty outfits. A cat isn’t a sister, but it’s better than nothing.

      “Zoe,” I sometimes ask, “do you want to come with me to walk Kiwi?”

      “No, Dad,” she usually says. Zoe’s just turned thirteen, and prefers the computer, texting, or going to the mall with friends. I guess a teenager needs to be a teenager, just like a cat needs to be a cat.

      But a father needs to be a father, so I end up walking her little sister alone. The other day I was looking down at the word jumble, trying to unscramble the letters—hitbr. When I looked up, Kiwi was gone.

      “Kiwi?” I called.

      I looked everywhere, but a camouflaged cat blends into nature. I couldn’t find her anywhere. She had vanished.

      I searched around our home a third time. “Why weren’t you more careful?” cried my wife, in my mind.

      I searched for Kiwi in all of her favorite spots—under the porch, under our car, behind flower pots, and up the hill, under the cypress bush. But the only thing I saw was my wife’s worried face. I began to think about “Lost Cat” posters stapled onto telephone poles. I thought of Zoe, and “Lost Child” photos on milk cartons.

      I kept searching. “Kiwi?”

      Where was she? It was getting dark.

      “A cat has to be a cat,” I said to my wife in my mind.

      “We lost her!” she sobbed.

      I zipped up my jacket and kept searching, but my heart was beginning to sink.


      It was getting darker and colder. I thought about the dogs in the area. Dogs eat cats. I thought about the stray cats in the neighborhood. Strays are filthy. Would Kiwi, our little poem with fur, become pals with them? Would she pick up bad habits, and go wild? Would Zoe’s little sister prefer independence and freedom instead of our soft pillows and plush carpeting?

      Kiwi was an important part of our family. Did she know we loved her? Did she love us?

      “Kiwi?” I called.

      I looked at my watch. Our quick thirty minute walk was turning into a horrible nightmare. I walked up the hill to the cypress bush and peered into the woods. “Kiwi?”

      I stepped into the woods. Dead brown leaves crunched under foot. “We lost her!” my wife repeated. As I walked deeper into the woods, I remembered an event eleven years earlier. My wife was sitting in a white hospital room and a kind, sympathetic doctor was sitting beside her. He told us that the child growing within her wasn’t viable. I looked up into the trees blowing in the cold night breeze and I began to understand her better.

      I continued to search the woods and suddenly felt a sob coming on. It came out long and hard, but it was dark and I was alone, so it was okay. All I could see was my wife’s sad face as the doctor consoled her. Her sadness was rubbing off on me because, I realized, her sadness was my sadness.

      Then I thought of Zoe, our other piece of poetry, arguing with her mother about going to the mall with her friends. A teenager, I guess, has to be a teenager. Each day, she’s growing more confident and independent.

      That’s when I heard something rustle in the leaves, and I felt something rub against my ankle. I looked down and staring up at me were green eyes glowing in the dark. It was Kiwi.

      I bent down, picked her up, and cradled her in my arms. I held her against my leather jacket and kissed the back of her head. Then we started walking home. A cat has to be a cat, I guess.

      But sometimes it’s a baby.

      (Peter Wood lives in Mt. Kisco. He is the author of “Confessions of a Fighter” and “A Clenched Fist”.)

    • profile image


      8 years ago

      great site... there is no dearth of comedy with cats around... well, there's amadeus and artemis who have decided to adopt me...where we dont see eye to eye is on the use of mobile phones....amadeus is fanatically fond of my phone chargers... any charger lying around him gets chewed up.... and what still is a mystery is ...he only goes after chargers which are in workable condition....if it is something he has already chewed up and demolished once..he will not touch it a second time... cat mystery

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      yea well i hate cats...JK

    • David Fallon profile image

      David Fallon 

      9 years ago from Pomona, CA

      great hub :) I hope you will check out Paco the service cat's stories in my hubs ;)

    • KT pdx profile image

      KT pdx 

      9 years ago from Vancouver, WA, USA

      I could go on and on with cat stories and fill this whole comment section! Check my profile page for the links to my cat blog and my Catster pages. There's a lot of funny reading there, about the cats who let me live with them: 1 tuxedo, 1 longhaired black cat, 2 tabbies, 1 almost-completely white cat, and the ferals who frequent our back porch.

      I'll share one story with you, though. Carbon, our all-black longhaired guy, is our evil genius. When we got him as a 5-week-old kitten, he and Tabby (4 weeks old at the time) ruled the house right away. They climbed into the dresser from the back of it, explored everything, and attacked shoes and anything that moved. Well, after a few days, Scott couldn't figure out why he didn't have any bottlecaps on the kitchen counter anymore. He was collecting them for the free pop rewards, but they kept disappearing. Did they just fall? Nope. Could they be found on the floor? Nope. He watched them closely, and one day saw little Carbon jump all the way up to the counter, grab a bottlecap in his teeth, and dash under the couch to play with it.

      Carbon also likes to chew on straws, learned to jam up the automatic litter box in 10 minutes (see my hub about that), and can open turning door handles.

    • wordnerd profile image


      9 years ago

      i love cats!!! i like ur website too. cats r so funny

    • moonlake profile image


      9 years ago from America

      Love cats we're looking for a long haired male kitten right now funny how certain times of the year you can't find a kitten. SPRING maybe. Our cat died two days after Christmas we miss him so much.

      Enjoyed reading about your cats.

    • profile image


      10 years ago

      i love cats so much.great story!

    • profile image


      10 years ago

      I am a cat lover, have five of them myself!!! ;o) Great story.

    • ajcor profile image


      10 years ago from NSW. Australia

      we used to have a really lovely cat called Gus - a chocolate Burman who really thought he was a dog - in fact we had two dogs at the time and each morning all three of them would line up in a row for their vegemite toast. What was funny was that as they sat in front of us the dogs would catch their toast pieces easily in their mouths; while poor old Gus used to try and do the same thing but with his paws - usually missing and having then get if from the floor. Invariably Gus would look quite bewildered as to why he couldn't do what the dogs did so easily!

    • profile image

      Rey Marz 

      10 years ago

      I used have a really smart cat named Kitty who could open doors whenever she pleased, bedroom doors, bathroom doors (yikes!). She had a daughter named Godevil (named after car in a Stephen King short story), and they used to love going on walks with my dog Subway and I. People would stop in their cars just to watch those two cats trotting along behind us!

    • KirkMan profile image


      10 years ago from California

      Very Funny hub, cats can do the craziest things!

    • Stacie Naczelnik profile imageAUTHOR

      Stacie Naczelnik 

      10 years ago from Seattle

      Anita, my Benny plays fetch with a straw. It's so funny.

    • Anita Burke profile image

      Anita Burke 

      10 years ago

      Funny hub! My cat, Frisco, actually plays fetch. He would play all day if I had the energy for it.

    • Stacie Naczelnik profile imageAUTHOR

      Stacie Naczelnik 

      10 years ago from Seattle

      It involved making loud noises every time he did it. He still tries it once in awhile, but all I have to say is, "Benny!" in a threatening tone, and he jumps right down. He totally knows better, but likes to test his limits.

    • Peter M. Lopez profile image

      Peter M. Lopez 

      10 years ago from Sweetwater, TX

      Very funny, and so true. How do you keep your cat off the kitchen counter and dining table? We haven't learned how to do this yet.

    • Stacie Naczelnik profile imageAUTHOR

      Stacie Naczelnik 

      10 years ago from Seattle

      I'm glad you got a laugh! Cats are so funny.

    • stephhicks68 profile image

      Stephanie Hicks 

      10 years ago from Bend, Oregon

      Hilarious stories! This is a super hub. Thanks for making me laugh. The photos are precious too. :-)

    • Stacie Naczelnik profile imageAUTHOR

      Stacie Naczelnik 

      10 years ago from Seattle

      Thanks, I think they are cute too. Good to know about the keywords--I didn't do any research, so it was just a good decision.

    • vreccc profile image


      10 years ago from Concord, NH


      Nice hub. And..... nice keyword research. I see you used 'funny cat' in your title. That is the best one to go for because it gets a lot of searches. I think I'll run it through the analysis process i shared in my seo hub and see if it is easy to rank for in the serps.

      Cute cats!!



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