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Growing up, my Dad never liked cats. His motto has always been "the only good cat is a dead cat". Note, he would never actually hurt an animal, he just never really liked cats!

He stayed at our house on Saturday night and late Sunday afternoon, we had a nap.. Dad was on the lounge and I was on the blow up bed.. I woke to find this...



He woke up not long after and we had a laugh about how Sammy doesn't care if people like him or not, if they're in 'his' home, they're good enough to snuggle with! My Dad, the guy who 'hates' cats was leaving not long after and was saying to Sammy "You want to jump in my bag and come home with me?". Hehe
 

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as with anything else people are scared of the unknown. Most cat haters haven't had too much experience with cats, and usually, once they see how sweet, lovable, and smart they really are first-hand, it changes them forever :)
 

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I never understand how ppl can not like cats but they are out there. Looks like Sammy is on his way to making your Dad a convert!
 

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as with anything else people are scared of the unknown. Most cat haters haven't had too much experience with cats, and usually, once they see how sweet, lovable, and smart they really are first-hand, it changes them forever :)
Or they had a bad experience with cats.

My two younger sisters didn't like cats too much because they used to torment my outdoor cat, Tiger, when they were younger (between 2 and... 5 I think) and so he figured out that by doing things like stalking their shoelaces and boxing their ears (with velveted paws of course) they they would leave him alone. After he was hit by a car :( my parents got two other cats who were being offered in the paper. One of them, a DLH calico named Tinkerbell, was kinda bi-polar. She would be rubbing up against you and purring one second, and without warning and for no reason what so ever she would suddenly viciously attack you (biting and clawing).

It wasn't until I got Teddy that they warmed up to cats. Though Teddy still doesn't like my youngest sister too much because she used to take a blanket, turn him into a purrito and hold him against his will for hours at a time. Though he is coming around since she has been treating him nicer.

Here is a picture of him in her arms trying to hide from a dreaded car ride.
 

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I know sometimes there is the bad experience factor as well. I just have a hard time accepting that excuse from adults. My first experiences with a cat were downright horrible. I was at war with my cousin's cat for close to a year and 1/2 when I was 7. She actually slit my finger when I was sleeping from the base of my finger all the way up to the tip...one single slice (looked like it had been done with a knife). I hated that cat so much.

Then, as I got older and my rational mind kicked in, I had a chance to get to know more cats (and again rationalize that not all cats may be the same just because I had met a bad one in the past) on my own terms and see things differently....but I guess different people, different tolerances and reactions *shrugz*
 

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My father was the same way...When I got my first cat, Onyx, before I had her I was told I couldn't bring her to their house (they lived an hour away and I often stayed overnight). Then when I got her and my mother was faced with not having me come to their house and go shopping with her she relented and said "OK, but she has to sleep in the basement."

We arrived and here was this little 6 week old kitten who couldn't even get in her litter box without a book as a step in front of it. My mother and I went out shopping and came home to find my father asleep in his recliner with Onyx asleep on his lap. It was over after that...she became the grandcat and they spoiled her endlessly.
 

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That is so sweet! Did you get a picture of that?

My mother never wanted pets (for a thousand reasons, which she could spew out at a moment's notice). When we got Rookie in 2005, it was the first pet she had ever really had exposure to. We only had Rookie a week when my Mom came over on Christmas day.

At one point, Rookie was sitting in a chair across the living room from my Mom. To my shock, my Mom stood up slowly and started hobbling across the living room to Rookie in the chair. I thought to myself, "Cat, if you've ever been on your best behavior in your whole life, this would be the time." My Mom got to her, petted her sweetly on her head, Rookie lapped it up, and everyone was happy. I was so happy that both of them had made a real effort to like each other.
 

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Then, as I got older and my rational mind kicked in, I had a chance to get to know more cats (and again rationalize that not all cats may be the same just because I had met a bad one in the past) on my own terms and see things differently....but I guess different people, different tolerances and reactions *shrugz*
Yup, I too am a convert. Had a very cranky cat growing up and repeated bites and scratches made me very wary of them. But like you I realized as I got older that not all cats were like that, and now after owning two of my own, I am completely converted. :)

Clearly there is hope for your dad yet love.my.cats! I think some people just need to have some good experiences with a particular animal/breed/etc. that they previously disliked. I also have a pomeranian and have had multiple friends tell me they hated pomeranians until they met mine and realized how awesome they can be. They were just used to misbehaving poorly-trained poms before.
 

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My dad acts like he hates cats... though I don't know of it's just annoyance, instead.

He grew up on a farm, in the 30s'-40's, and the philosophy was that EVERYBODY had to earn their keep...including the animals. They didn't have "pets". The cows gave milk, the horses plowed, the dogs herded, and the cats kept the rodents out of the field/garden/grain shed/silo.

I know he doesn't like it if my cats do "messes" out in the house, and I don't clean it up right away - heck, nobody likes to smell that stuff. But he constantly refers to them as "those d*m cats", as if they were causing trouble ALL the time.
As to the ferals, at first he told me he didn't care what I did with them, as long as he didn't have to pay for it. Originally I asked him if he wanted them all trapped and taken away, and when he said they were good for rodent control, I figured I'd keep them. So I set up a feeding station on the patio... But then he got mad that they were all hanging around the house!
So now I put the feeding station at the edge of the property, and he hasn't complained so much.
 

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Great picture!

To chime in on the thread discussion, nearly all the cats that I knew growing up (all belonged to friends or relatives) were antisocial or, well, mean. I never bothered them (I would sit very still near them, hoping and hoping that one would crawl into my lap and purr, but to no avail). Years later, my now-husband's flatmate in college got a cat, and she was awful. Of course, I had no experience or love for cats, so I didn't try to form a relationship with her--I just ignored her. But she was constantly jumping on people's heads or backs, digging her claws into whatever skin she could find. She was the filthiest cat I've ever seen, and the roommate did a terrible job of keeping her litterbox clean. She was hated by our entire circle of friends, which probably made matters worse.

Still, I was open to getting cats, since my husband had always wanted them. I figured that if I did a ton of research and learned how to communicate with them and understand them, that we'd have good cats. So I did research (which included finding Catforum, though I didn't start posting until a couple months later) and we got two cats, and life was good. Now I've been converted from a dog person into a total cat person. I still like dogs, but just prefer cats for my lifestyle.

Now I wish I could go back and see if that roommate's cat was as bad as everyone thought she was. :( Maybe if I could have worked with her, things may have gotten better. She just had a really crappy owner.
 

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hehe :)

My dad pretended to hate cats when I was much younger, but I used to catch him talking to and petting the cats if I got out of bed super early. Later I found out from my mom that it was more a front he put up because he had a tiny kitten that he loved die back when my parents first got married. Now, he plays with Pumpkin whenever they come over, but he won't let my mom get a cat.
 

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Oh. That is so cute. It' wonderful Sammy did that and your father appreciated Sammy sleeping on him. I believe about cat haters that the right cat has not found them yet. I wish cat haters could realize this.

Kathy
 

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My dad hated cats as a child and before I got Baby. Mom would tell me my dad's father would tell him for every cat he killed, he'd get $0.50. Safe to say.. my dad did just that. He was a kid of course, and it was a terrible story I cried. But he's better now; he likes Baby and pets him but always jokes about turning him into a furr rug or something.
 

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My husband was never a cat hater. He was just indifferent to them. Dogs too, for that matter. To him, they were JUST animals, expendable and replaceable. That was a problem for us when we were young. Animals have always been an important part of my life. I could no sooner imagine my life without them than I could imagine my life without my husband. His attitude bothered me a lot. I thought there was something very, very WRONG with him. I even accused him of being 'soulless' more than once. If he couldn't love my animals, how could he love me? Because they were so much a part of me.

It took me years to understand why he was like that. His father was brutal towards animals. It wasn't something he talked about, and neither did the rest of the family, but slowly over the years things would be said in conversation, sometimes more if they were drinking, and I began to hear about the horrible things his father did. Like intentionally running over their pet dogs in front of their eyes. Throwing kittens in burning barrels. You get the picture. So it began to make sense to me why he wouldn't allow himself to get close to any animal.

When my husband came home from Iraq he had a lot of very dark nights. He would build a fire out on the patio and spend hours out there drinking alone. Alone except for a cat. A cat he later named Scooter. Scooter was an old bobtail who had lived on our property for years without much use for people. If he ate at the community food bowl, he did so late at night because we rarely saw him. For whatever reason, Scooter began visiting my husband on the patio, where he would listen to my husband talk about the things that bothered him for hours on end. Before long, this cat began following my husband around like a devoted dog and before I knew what had happened, Scooter was sleeping in the bed with us like he had been born to such luxury and his human fawns over him like he was a baby. This man has changed so much over the last few years since meeting Scooter. I still look at him in astonishment when he suggests a visit to the Vet. Vet bills was one of the issues we use to argue the most about!

And Scooter was just the start. Once he had opened his heart to this cat, it was open to all. Which kinda sucks because I was really counting on him to be the voice of reason as I added one more and then one more, etc... to the family. :p
 
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