When did "woman" become an adjective?

[TragicMonkey]

Which only shows your lack of understanding of how a cat's mind works.

Even in repose they are waiting and watching.

With two cats in the house, I get to be amused by the care with which they select their spots to "sleep". Chosen with precision to enable them to keep careful tabs on each other. (N.B.; they don't get along.) They may look like they're dead to the world, but they are aware of everything that's going on around them.

When one picks out a particularly useful location it is only a matter of time before the other waits for and goes for her chance to usurp it.

And the dance goes on.

Stuff and nonsense. I had a cat when I was a kid. That thing could sleep through the smoke detector going off right over its head.

 

[theprestige]

What, like Sodium Chloride?

Good question. Turns out "chloride" is indeed considered a noun.

 

[quadraginta]

Stuff and nonsense. I had a cat when I was a kid. That thing could sleep through the smoke detector going off right over its head.

It may have been lying there motionless, but I can guarantee that it wasn't "asleep" in the sense that most people attach to the term. It was aware of what was going on around it.

Although I suspect a bit of hyperbole in your description. Even humans find the piercing sound of a smoke detector to be physically uncomfortable, and a cat's hearing sensitivity is orders of magnitude better than ours. A smoke alarm in close proximity would be physically painful to them, and they would try to find some shelter from it if only to prevent actual physical damage.

 

[TragicMonkey]

It may have been lying there motionless, but I can guarantee that it wasn't "asleep" in the sense that most people attach to the term. It was aware of what was going on around it.

Although I suspect a bit of hyperbole in your description. Even humans find the piercing sound of a smoke detector to be physically uncomfortable, and a cat's hearing sensitivity is orders of magnitude better than ours. A smoke alarm in close proximity would be physically painful to them, and they would try to find some shelter from it if only to prevent actual physical damage.

I never use hyperbole. That cat could sleep the sleep of the anciently dead. One time we tested it by picking up the sleeping cat and hurling it aloft, expecting it to land on at least three of its feet. However, we hadn't noticed the ceiling fan was on. The cat was batted out of the trajectory we planned for it, zoomed across the spacious drawing-room, caroomed off an oil painting of Delaware Crossing George Washington, skidded off the slick polished surface of the grand piano onto the slick polished surface of the not-so-grand piano, which it also skidded off of, and landed in the shark tank. There weren't any sharks in there, of course, it's just a name: it was actually full of electric eels. A shocking interval later we fished the cat out using a cunning system of pulleys and antique serving utensils to discover it snoring peacefully in a relaxed state. We cooled it off in the freezer for an hour or two, then warmed it up in the oven for another hour, then ran the lawn mower over it, but it napped undisturbed until several hours later when it woke up, stretched, and was as perky and chirpy as a cat can ever be. It ate some kibble, took some brief exercise by bringing down a wild elk and dragging the carcass up a tree, and then snuggled by the fire it set to some neighboring townhomes. I know all about cats, they are forces of destruction beyond the tolerance of the laws of physics.

 

[quadraginta]

I never use hyperbole. That cat could sleep the sleep of the anciently dead. One time we tested it by picking up the sleeping cat and hurling it aloft, expecting it to land on at least three of its feet. However, we hadn't noticed the ceiling fan was on. The cat was batted out of the trajectory we planned for it, zoomed across the spacious drawing-room, caroomed off an oil painting of Delaware Crossing George Washington, skidded off the slick polished surface of the grand piano onto the slick polished surface of the not-so-grand piano, which it also skidded off of, and landed in the shark tank. There weren't any sharks in there, of course, it's just a name: it was actually full of electric eels. A shocking interval later we fished the cat out using a cunning system of pulleys and antique serving utensils to discover it snoring peacefully in a relaxed state. We cooled it off in the freezer for an hour or two, then warmed it up in the oven for another hour, then ran the lawn mower over it, but it napped undisturbed until several hours later when it woke up, stretched, and was as perky and chirpy as a cat can ever be. It ate some kibble, took some brief exercise by bringing down a wild elk and dragging the carcass up a tree, and then snuggled by the fire it set to some neighboring townhomes. I know all about cats, they are forces of destruction beyond the tolerance of the laws of physics.

I knew a couple of cats like that.

The pyromania was the toughest thing to get used to.

But all that elk meat balanced things out ... as long as the cats only torched other people's townhouses ... and we had a ready-made place to grill it.