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  1. #1
    Thailand Expat Jesus Jones's Avatar
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    Invasion of the Pussies

    Not that one!

    It's not pleasant arriving home to the smell of cat piss everywhere around the home. On the shoe rack and shoes, motorbike, outdoor cooking area, the cars and area where my daughter plays. I've watched one feline piss on an area followed by another 2 minutes later, then another and another after that. I'm an animal lover but I'm about to commence moggie atrocities! Cat's are scrapping literally out of the lower bedroom window but the stink is getting out of control.

    So please, can anyone recommend a peaceful and friendly solution to my dilemma. And before anyone criticizes the action i will take, and I will, I'm merely protecting my territory and young. Cat piss is not healthy!

    Thus far I've tried limes scattered in places, works on the odd one.
    You bullied, you laughed, you lied, you lost!

  2. #2
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    Are these your pets or blow ins?

  3. #3
    Thailand Expat Jesus Jones's Avatar
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    feckin neighbors. They don't piss on their plot as they don't have a plot to piss in! (Did you like that) Cats use mine as we have a bit of space.

  4. #4
    I am in Jail

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    Very glad someone started a cat thread. If they are blow ins then hide and soak those felion invaders with water. If they are pets convert them to outdoor cats something. I have cats at the moment. Nice to have a bit of company around the place yet they also annoy. My question is how much should a male cat way? This one is just a normal Thai cat and the fat bastard weighs 7kg. Too much?

  5. #5
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    Spread cayenne pepper powder about. They walk in it, it gets in there fur, they lick their fur.....

  6. #6
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    Quote Originally Posted by RangsitRiot
    If they are blow ins then hide and soak those felion invaders with water
    Bleach in a squirt bottle works better.....

  7. #7
    Thailand Expat Jesus Jones's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by CSFFan View Post
    Spread cayenne pepper powder about. They walk in it, it gets in there fur, they lick their fur.....
    That sounds like a plan, a fun one to watch I bet!

  8. #8
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    Citrus zest and whisky - two smells that will push cats away from your house. An atomiser with either in sprayed where they congregate will usually convince them to leave.

    Very important though is to not clean their piss places with any house hold cleaning product that contains ammonia which a lot do, or any bleach type product. It heightens the smell to the cats and they will come back in droves to piss in the same place.

    Where they piss, clean it, and then liberly squirt lime juice on the area.



    I use one of these as it has no sugar added, just lime juice. Does the trick nicely and they only cost 50 baht or so from Big C and Tesco.
    Originally Posted by bsnub "No wonder I drive a tesla"

  9. #9
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    Cat urine and cat shit dude you need a dog, if you don't have a dog the whole place needs a good clean. Bleach. It's mating season so males will mark their territory. They will come back again and again and do the same thing over and over.

  10. #10
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    pseudolus's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by fohk
    Bleach.
    Do not use bleach.

    It enhances the smell of the cat urine, so more cats will smell it and try to cover it with their own, in larger quantities.

  11. #11
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    Mace them.

  12. #12
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    pseudolus's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by fohk
    Mace them.
    Bit harsh wouldn't you say?

  13. #13
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    Quote Originally Posted by pseudolus
    Do not use bleach.
    To clean I would. What do you suggest? Napalm?

  14. #14
    Thailand Expat Jesus Jones's Avatar
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    I'd love a dog but just don't have time to care for it. Whisky and zest sounds good but expensive.

    As for the cats, they don't congregate anywhere, they just piss and circle the area.

    I'll give the pepper a whirls but cleaning is a must.

  15. #15
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    Quote Originally Posted by fohk View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by pseudolus
    Do not use bleach.
    To clean I would. What do you suggest? Napalm?
    A cleaning product without ammonia in it? Detol would do the trick.

    JJ- bottle of that lime juice is 50 baht. Too expensive? A lot better than having your kids rubbing Pepper into their eyes I'd have thought.

  16. #16
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    Quote Originally Posted by pseudolus
    A lot better than having your kids rubbing Pepper into their eyes I'd have thought.
    But think of the life lesson his kids will learn about rubbing their eyes. and it's not cat piss soaked dirt.

  17. #17
    Thailand Expat Jesus Jones's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by pseudolus View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by fohk View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by pseudolus
    Do not use bleach.
    To clean I would. What do you suggest? Napalm?
    A cleaning product without ammonia in it? Detol would do the trick.

    JJ- bottle of that lime juice is 50 baht. Too expensive? A lot better than having your kids rubbing Pepper into their eyes I'd have thought.
    Whisky expensive. I've tried cut limes so I'm not sure of the benefit. I'll put pepper on the walls where they walk and come in. Just started rinsing the whole area with detol as it happens.

  18. #18
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    Cat stew is nice...

  19. #19
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    Bag them and drop them in the nearest khlong. Nasty little bastards.

  20. #20
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    Quote Originally Posted by RangsitRiot
    My question is how much should a male cat way?
    Cats don't way, they meow. 6.5 kilo is max. same as owners penis I suppose. Nothing personal. Just saying...

    Wife bought some manufactured spray. Keeps them off the outside furniture. As is normal, not my animals, however strangely all animals are attracted to people without any want of one. Why's that?

  21. #21
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    One of these.



    Do it while they are in midstream micturition.

  22. #22
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    4 rubber bullets. Eg , The wheels of your car

  23. #23
    splendid and tremendous
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    Might I refer the right honourable gentleman to an answer I gave some time ago

    Ahem...

    "My wife, she loves our cats. Absolutely adores them. They are provided with two thoughtfully prepared meals daily and are never left wanting for strokes, cuddles, or indeed, light conversation.

    It’s really rather a shame, then, that I, totally, with every last morsel of my being, despise the abhorrent bundles of misery. Given the choice I’d rather keep a pair of sexually-active baboons, in my underpants.

    As you might imagine, this difference of opinion has resulted in much friction. While my better half will invariably greet their early morning screeches for sustenance with a pat on the head, a peppy verbal exchange and a generous serving of rice infused with slow-poached mackerel, I, on the other hand, will offer them a colourful volley of language followed by playful punt towards the distant horizon. And so begins the bickering…

    A quick disclaimer: cats do not always land on their feet. They sometimes land on their heads, which is a pleasing conclusion after a tremendous boot to the bollocks has been administered.

    I didn’t arrive at this cat-detesting juncture without just cause, mind you. It took me a good few years to fine-tune my hatred, but I got there in the end.
    Perhaps the turning point, the most significant factor which converted plain old disapproval into an unalloyed, seething hatred for these creatures, was a series of events that transpired one Sunday evening.

    I was sitting on the balcony enjoying the sunset with an ice-cold bottle of local beer and a book. The house was currently a shrine to the much revered Sunday roast. Baking trays clattered, saucepan lids opened to reveal a bubbling assemblage of seasonal vegetables, used utensils dropped with a splash into the washing-up bowl, and a meticulously manufactured pepper sauce traced a path from the kitchen and out on to the balcony, gloriously scenting the air.
    My excitement for this pending feast began to pique, and I licked my lips in anticipation. A full Sunday roast dinner awaited my undivided attention. A cut of the finest beef, a stack of impeccably executed roast potatoes, an assortment of leafy greens, peas and carrots, an intricately grafted gravy, and the pièce de resistance, my wife’s take on Yorkshire puddings, which although would probably deeply offend Auntie Bessie, still brought that element of je ne sais pas to the table.

    And so it came to pass that ‘Dinnertime’, the best compound noun in the history of linguistics, was called.

    Fantastic news! The arrival of my food had coincided with the last page of the chapter I’d been reading.
    “Give me one-hot-minute.” I said to my wife. “Pop it on the table. I shall be in forthwith.”

    After speed-reading the final few paragraphs of the chapter, I closed my book, took a large gulp of lager, and hurried into the dining room ready to attack my roast dinner.

    But it quickly became apparent that I wouldn’t be attacking my roast dinner today. No, I would instead be attacking the fucking cat who was standing in it! Using the roast potatoes and the Yorkshire pudding as a vantage point, the heinous moggie was gnawing vehemently at the cut of premium roast beef, its front legs knee-deep in gravy.

    An almost tangible aura of hate filled the room. The ceiling rained hellfire. The walls blazed an angry red. I was on the brink of either a massive stroke or mass-murder.
    Fortunately, although it was touch and go for a good few seconds, the former didn’t occur, leaving the latter my only choice of path.

    With an animalistic roar I embarked on a feline genocide campaign. Proceedings commenced with the violent removal of the roast dinner perpetrator. Grabbed by the throat and escorted to the balcony, it was launched, pursuing a path with flailing limbs, over the garden wall – I’m sure it was still chewing mid-flight. In my honest opinion, it was lucky. If I wasn’t such an affable chap, I could have quite easily lopped its head off with an axe.

    I then went into my bedroom and liberated a shotgun which I’d acquired for such eventualities. Granted, it only cost 50 pence and shoots plastic pellets, but is capable of inflicting a satisfactory sting to its recipients, so I chambered a round, lit a cigarette, and basically morphed into a fat Terminator.

    “What are you doing?” My wife inquired.

    I was tempted to shoot her in the leg. She likes cats. She was fair game. But I forewent instigating a year-long domestic feud and simply uttered “I’ll be back.”

    Outside on the garden bench, with a leg cocked at an impossible angle, another cat sat, about to succumb to my wrath of Sunday roast retribution.
    I fired off a round aimed at its head. It missed, the pellet having been gathered by a gust of wind. I took another shot. Again, the target wasn’t hit. I decided that a more proactive means of exhibiting my fury should be employed. Using the shotgun barrel as a handle, I made towards the vicious bastard, who by this time looked to have consumed its head with its anus, with a view to issuing a devastating blow to the midsection. I brought the weapon down. Too late. The cat had obviously heard my approaching breaths of rage and jumped out of the way just as the shotgun met the table and smashed into a hundred pieces.

    With this, it was deemed absolutely essential that I immediately vacated the premises. Two minutes later I was frantically consuming alcohol at the local shop and regaling my tale of woe to an amused crowd of regulars. Apparently such adversities never seem to befall them – after all, anything with four legs and heartbeat invariably ends up in the pot, doesn’t it?
    Do they eat cats in Thailand? Or is that just China?
    Either way, Pad Krapow Meow has a delightful ring to it."

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