Here, collected for the first time by my In Search of... researchers and technicians, are tales of bizarre animal behavior, of mysterious circles of light, and one cat's pursuit of them, of whole rolls of toilet paper horribly mutilated, of carnivorous critters and their unnatural craving for bagels and cantaloupe, of co-dependent poultry, of an otherwise self-respecting cat who actually responds to the name of "Buffy", of one cat stalked by a hairy snake he can't reach, tales which arrive on my e-mail with the warning "Use it if you're desperate and edit as you please (please)!," and habits too unusual to describe in one run on sentence. These are:

Our cat Justin (really Justina, but we didn't know until "He" went into heat) has a curious game she plays, and begs us to play. It started when the light would catch the ovals of my bifocals into a sphere of light on the dining room wall. She was fascinated by it and followed it as I moved. Now the "game" has evolved to a jumping game where whenever we enter the dining room she wants to "jump" and follow the spheres around the wall. The ritual now is: the first time she jumps in the corner about three feet. Then she jumps all over the side wall for a minute, and finishes with following the ovals on the rug in circles. Granted we have played the game with her, but it is she who beckons us to play -- every day!
-- Barb Ludwig

Well, when I was a kid, instead of dogs or cats, we had ducks. The first one named Sam. He had a nasty disposition on occasion, and would wait by the driveway and nip at my mother's ankle as she was getting out of the car. The second one we had was called Rover. She (yes, she) had decided that my brother Rich was her mother, and followed him around whenever he was outside.
-- Hacksaw

Our kitten, Chiquis, has this thing about toilet paper. She goes in every bathroom and bites holes from each roll then unravels it fully in a heap on the floor. We've tried hiding and chiding, but now Chiquis has taught herself how to open cabinets and, since that's where the tp's stored, has a field day behind closed doors. (It's the same with paper towels.) And it's not as if we can take similar measures to breaking the house plant attacks (which is to sprinkle chili powder on the leaves).
-- Tenbroeck Patterson

O.K., maybe this isn't funny but I found it kinda strange. My dad brought home a turkey to raise (to eat). Soon, it became apparent that we would not be eating this bird. We would let it roam around our property and go in and out of its coop as it pleased. We started to notice that "Tom" was developing a growing attraction to my Dad. He would follow my Dad around the yard as he did his chores and stand patiently by him when my Dad was working in the garage (or whatever). Whenever me or my Mom came out of the house, Tom would run from wherever he was and crash into us or try to fly up at us (sometimes this hurt). It was very clear that he did not like us hanging around the yard. Anyway, maybe you had to be there, but watching my Dad change a tire one day while Tom stood protectively at his side -- really made me shake my head and give a chuckle.
-- Kate Kibbee

My cat, Buffy, gets jealous whenever I talk on the phone. To get my attention she leaps on the kitchen table, tips over the garbage, or swings from the telephone cord. But these behaviors are an improvement, I weaned her long ago from sliding down my legs with her claws extended.
-- Desiree Goodwin

I had a cat in the 1970s named Kasha. She loved cantaloupe, and whenever I would eat it, she would jump up on the table and demand to have some. I frequently would split half a cantaloupe with her!
-- Jacki Goggin

And finally, my cat Wilson Gray (named after the guy who does Trace Requests in Widener) is fond of chasing his own tail. Usually he's content to race around in circles, but occasionally he will climb onto the arm of a large wooden chair in my living room, look down and see his tail dangling innocently below. After waiting for a time to catch it unawares, he'll lunge at the tail and grab it with his front paws, throwing himself off balance off the arm of the chair and ending up on the floor usually on his head. He'll do this over and over again until he loses interest or becomes too groggy to climb up on the chair.
-- Bob Angilly

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