House cat’s ‘panther’ attempt thwarted by pawrent after preparing to pounce on canine sibling for a second time, cat says: ‘Surely I cannot be blamed for merely being the magnificent panther I am?’

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Laurent Shinar • Writer and Editor
Feb 13, 2026 4:00 PM EST

You might have thought that your house cat's connection to their big cat cousins is all but gone. But as you will come to find in this story those instincts are alive and well, if a bit wild and untamed…

Which makes some sense if you think about it from the perspective of the cat. You have spent all these years living in the literal lap of luxury. Being fed, cuddled, groomed, and cared of in every conceivable way. Leaving you little to no reason to practise or hone your wild big cat instincts. Meaning that when you do come to engage them then at best they are released uncontrollably like a superhero learning to use their powers, or at worst nothing happens.

Like with everything in life, it takes skill, patience and practice to use these instincts well. So it should come as little to no surprise that this story happened and that the cat child who perpetrated the madness was simply not prepared to handle the power of its own instincts. 

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  • 01
    "This time I lurked in the undergrowth"
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    Friends, once again, I, Misery Meow (9, eunuch, magnificent panther), turn to you for comfort, support, and validation due to the failure of my staff. This time, all I
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    did was give myself over to my ancestral big-cat instincts, and all I got in return was a scolding and ridicule.
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  • We have to say, we cannot think of a single time in which someone has used the claim of tapping into their ancestral instincts for good. In pretty much every case we can think of it has led to some pretty messed up situations and while we only have hooman experiences to draw from we cannot imagine that feline lived experiences are all too different. After all, most of what we do in life is learn from the mistakes and misdeeds of the past so that we do not repeat them. The last thing we ought to do is use our ancestors as an excuse to do socially unacceptable acts.

  • 04
    In a surprising display of near adequacy, the housekeeper bought me a new fleece bed for her office last week. I, of course,
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    Cheezburger Image 10603402240
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    being a cat with standards, refuse to sleep on it unless it's on the couch. Anyway, I was lying on my new couchbed, contemplating the
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    meaning of life, when I realized that I hadn't been doing enough to honour my ancestors. In fact, I'd been downright docile all week, even going as far as
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    licking the dog's muzzle in a companionable fashion while lying on the big bed. As we catses are all aware, we're simply
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    smaller versions of our wild ancestors. Instead of becoming docile, domesticated slaves to humans like those prideless canines have, we've
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    retained all the majesty of our larger cousins, with our instincts simply being compressed into a smaller, angrier format. With
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    this in mind and a little ashamed of my indiscretion with the dog, I decided to channel my inner panther with a nighttime hunting expedition in the front garden.
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  • Ok, this we can understand. After all it is not cool to be a cat who is nice to dogs. If word got out to other cats, they would ridicule this feline until it would be so embarrassed it would hide in its secret spot forever. Never to be seen by the light of day or hooman eye ever again. So it is only natural that this catto had to do some correcting for its behavior and when you are a cat, the cattiest thing you can do is to hunt. Though it will be interesting to see if this house cat still has any of that hunting instinct in him, many have had it leech out of them as the comforts of home life get the better of them.

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    I made myself comfortable in the grass of the savannah, watching, waiting for prey to appear. When I
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    caught myself thinking, What on earth do I pay the groundskeeper for? Look at the state of this lawn! Is that a tick? That's a tick! Ew! I quickly shook
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    such domesticated thoughts out of my head and refocused on the task at paw. Fortunately, I didn't have long to wait. I soon heard the
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    housekeeper come thumping down the stairs, followed by her lumbering beast of a dog. The beast began his endless sniffing. I
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    watched and waited as he circled closer and closer to my hunting blind. When I could see the flare of his nostrils, I began the
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    wigglebut. I did a wigglebu .t, wigglebut, POUNCE and grabbed him by the muzzle! Although my technique was flawless, he managed to escape
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    with a bld- curdling scream and take evasive action. Since he lacks feline grace and basic survival instincts, he was so busy looking back over his
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    shoulder that he ran into the side of the truck, which was satisfying in its own way but not the outcome I had hoped for.
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    The housekeeper made her usual disparaging remarks about my character and ancestry, along with allegations that
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    the poor dog just wants to p in peace and that I was being mean. Lies! I was just honing my hunting skills as a magnificent panther.
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    Deaf to her complaints, I flitted around to the side of the house, becoming one with the shadows, to continue the hunt.
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    This time I lurked in the undergrowth, tail flicking as | tracked my prey. I again waited until I could see the flare of his nostrils before
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    I began the serious business of wiggleb t, wiggleb t. But this time I was so focused on being a panther that I'd failed to realize that the housekeeper
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    had snuck up on me until she rudely shouted, 'Sh :cat! Stop terrorizing the dog and get out of my forking strawberry patch! You miserable Richard Head!'
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    She'd ruined the moment, and I was left to brrrt meoowr my way back indoors in disappointment as the dog smugly, if a bit nervously, p. ed under the washing line. (And I bet he didn't even have the
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    decency to bury it.) Surely I cannot be the cla for merely being the magnificent panther I am? This is just another example of what a giant ca
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    she is. And as always, the dog is a cla for existing and having poor hygiene habits.
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    Is me, Thorben. Good boy, Thorben! Why must brother Misery be mean to Thorben? Thorben just want the loves, but brother Misery always spiky and mean. Thorben not cloarker.
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panther blame the cat reddit story canine attempt cat story pawrents preparing sibling house cat stop pounce
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