Yes, mine used to run in with me every morning. But now we have a bathtub, and he's not that keen on deep hot baths. Which reminds me, I must give him one.

I teach all my cats to bathe when they are kittens by washing them in lukewarm water in sinks, and then making sure to dry them off properly and cuddle somewhere warm with them afterward. It's the being wet (and thus cold) for long times that they hate. If they learn you won't let that happen to them, they're ok with baths.

Oh, and I taught two cats in North Carolina to swim in the pool. Which they'd do whenever they thought it wasa too dang hot out and they wanted to cool down. I have footage of one doing laps.

My cat Benna would climb onto the edge of the bathtub, flick her paw on the surface of the water a few times, then gingerly step over onto my chest. She would sit there, the tip of her tail in the water, as I read my book and shaved my legs. The water would wick its way up her tail until it reached her tiny cat behind, at which point she suddenly remembered oh, yeah, that's wet! With a brief dig of her claws, she'd bound off, leaving me to complete my ablutions.

She also drank bathwater, or would if I'd let her, which I wouldn't because gag.

She liked to sleep curled up in the tiny bathroom sinks of our old house, tightly packed into the cool damp porcelain, the leaky faucet occasionally dripping out water on the center of her furled belly.

She smelled like soap. This had nothing to do with the baths; she had a sweet and fragrant natural smell, like a wholesome bar of soap.

Benna was the least weird cat I ever had.

Paisley could stretch herself to be about two feet long and a very few inches around. She could stretch up her lanky paws to the doorknob, grasp it between them, and turn it to open the door. Thanks to an youthful accident invovling a teenaged boy, her voicebox, and a hastily closed door, she has a jangling yowling meow that unnerved the bravest of overnight guests.

After a childhood dominated by her unaffectionate mother, who did her best to keep Paisley away from the food dish, Paisley would eat by knocking a few bits of kibble out of the bowl and across the kitchen floor, hockey-style. She would crunch them down hastily, casting her eyes about the room for fear of reprisals.

Paisley would crawl up your body and all the way out your arm in pursuit of an Oreo in your hand.

Murray liked peas, Ritz crackers, and earwax.

Boo Gerald Boo tricked the neighborhood dogs. I'll only tell that story in person, though.

HalfWatt was our most unique kitty. As a wee kitten he'd sit in the patch pocket of Tom's barn coat as we walked out there. When he became too large for that, he followed us like a dog. Everywhere. In fact, we thought of him as a kitty version of a pot-lickin-hounddog cause he was so laid back.

You could vacuum all the way around his profile without him blinking; pick him up and place him somewhere else and he'd not move a muscle to readjust. Life was that good.

He used his smarts to teach the dog to help him catch voles: first, he'd find a vole-track and start poking in it to interest Hillary(dog) and then sit back and watch while she would furiously dig a big hole to get to critter, then dog gives up and goes away, voila! HalfWatt stays and waits for vole to appear!

Of course, he had us trained too....like all good kitties have their people under paw-command.

I have footage of one doing laps.

This thread is useless without a youtube link.

My parents' old cat (RIP aged 19) was too stupid to learn to use his head to push open a catflap, so for his whole life my parents had to tie string round the cat door and hold it open by tying it to the door-handle. Made things a bit cold in winter.

And it was open season for all the other neighbourhood cats who would come in and eat his food. He was too cowardly to scare them off himself, so he'd yowl upstairs until one of us went down and shoo'd the other cat away, and then he would look smug and claim the credit for himself (or so we assumed).

Funny stories, guys! Our cats are pretty boring compared to these. Although in the winter, our orange striper stares & meows at the electrical outlets in the evening.

Mia is afraid of her scratching post as well as of most cat toys.

Her favorite toy is a nice fresh envelope straight from the mail slot ("kelly, have you seen the gas bill... wait, nevermind, she hid it under the sofa again."). Failing that, she also loves cigarette butts. When we last pulled the sofabed out I was shocked and ashamed to see about two packs worth of butts she'd managed to get out of the ashtrays and squirrel away.

My roommate, who spoils her, will drain the water from canned tuna into a little bowl for her. She now thinks all cans are tuna and gets mad when I won't give her, say, corn water.
She also likes boys. A lot. Every guy who comes over will get a cat on his lap in seconds of sitting down. She'll bolt away from me so fast her back claws draw blood in order to get closer to a guy. Any guy.
Which is why we call her "slutcat."

Three of the beasties (Oliver, Fanty and Mingo) like to get in the shower after we're done and prance around in and drink the left-over droplets. Mingo will even sit on the edge of the tub while we shower.

Oliver sits on his rump with his forelegs up and paws-paws-paws at the air letting you know he wants whatever you're having. He does a similar thing where he stands on his hind legs and paws-paws-paws at whatever he wants into: a door, closet, bookcase, the fridge, a wall (maybe it's a secret entrance to his lair?).

Oliver is also fascinated by glasses and wants to check-out what's in them. He likes flat root beer, scotch and beer as well as water and milk.

Our 19-pound behemoth loves to get in the shower. Not every time, mind you, but he hangs out in the bathroom in the mornings (the floor is heated, and we sometimes have all three cats in there) and when he wants into the shower, He'll put his paws up on the edge of the tub, bat at the shower curtain, and holler until you pull the curtain aside so he can hop in. Then he'll sit, not at the back of the tub, out of the spray, but right at your feet, getting water and soap all over himself.

He also likes mushrooms and red bell peppers. He will steal them out of the salad bowl if you don't watch him (he likes lettuce, too, but he just licks it instead of eating it). He once stole a sack of mushrooms out of the fridge and ran down the hall with them.

i use to lie in the bath and sing. Once i looked over and my darling Phil was staring at me with big eyes and his chin hanging on the edge of the tub. He just did it after that. He was the most lovely weirdo and loved me.
My friend had this cat Ralph who was a total freak. It would take too long to go into all his bizarre behaviors but it's somewhat typified by this:
Sleeping friend wakes on the couch to find Ralph staring him down with his permamently blown pupils while chewing on his goatee.

Wanna know what's weirder?

I have a friend whose cat showers with her. And his name...

...is also...

Loki.

Weird, huh? Huh??

Morgan Spurlock's cat does.

...as does Charles Bronson's.

My friend Jane used to clean her cat Omar's ears very lightly and gently with a Q-tip. Which meant any time he saw a Q-tip, in real life, on tv, in a magazine, he'd automatically gag at the sight of it. Wave one in the air in front of him, he'd gag. Not run away, not bat at it. Just gag. What a weirdo.

She now thinks all cans are tuna and gets mad when I won't give her, say, corn water.

So did my cat. So I gave up one day and gave her some juice from a can of black beans. She proceeded to lap it all down, purring loudly. So strange.

My cat eats frozen peas.
My cat is afraid of plastic bags.
My cat is jealous of my ibook and will cry if he sees me open it.
My cat hunts elastic hairbands.
My cat will play fetch with a paper ball and return it to you.
My cat is 14 years old, 18 pounds and almost a metre long when he stretches.
My cat is missing a back toe due to cancer.
My cat may quack in frustration if he cannot open a door.

I love my cat.

Our cat Sid would happily jump in the bath with us, and then lift each paw and shake it furiously, a move that we called "The Big Shoe Dance", after the Pee-Wee Herman bit.

My wife rinses her mouth with sesame oil daily, and our cat Boo demands her share, prizing it above all else, even catnip. Once we bought a different brand of sesame oil, and she hated it, and let us know about it with yowls of bereft despair. This cat will also come when I whistle, a trick she taught herself. Really. Every time, and unrewarded. From inside or outside. Like clockwork. I don't know why she does this, but it's really convenient when it's time to get them in for the night.

Our cat Nancy would only eat dry food by picking it up with a paw and nibbling kibble by kibble, demonstrating, I suppose, that she was a more highly evolved cat than the rest.

And our newest cat, Tiny Pi, has acquired the nickname "headcrab" from her Half-Life-esque sleeping preference, which is basically draped right across my face. She either loves me or is trying to suffocate me, I haven't decided which.