Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts

Sunday, April 25, 2010

How to dazzle a human being


Dear George,

My name is Marti and I think I’m a gorgeous cat! I LOVE glamour! I love to be pampered and cared for.

I love “fame & glory”. I love sleeping on my human’s chest!

Hope no one will find this weird.

I’m a rescue from a local shelter. I was rescued by my human along with other two cats but, I’m the only one loving glamour. I’m the only one loving caviar and a sniff of champagne! I love shaggy covers

But I don’t think my human understands this. The other day I tried to shred my cover (see picture) into a “fluffier” one. It was taken as a bad thing.

George, only you, as a human behavior specialist can tell me how can I razzle-dazzle my human?

In awe

Marti


Dear Marti,

Wow. Champagne, caviar, you really do do the luxury life. You surely razzle dazzle me - and you are the right colour too. We black cats should stick together. I am a cat who is into huntin', rattin', and rabbitin' (sorry Harve), and if it wasn't for that I would ask you to come over some time - snip, or not!
Shredding. We all do it. We all love it. Personally I think Celia's curtains look all the better for their frilly ends. This very day she lunched with a fashionista who was wearing a shawl full of shredded bits. Just like the effect that I put the bed valance so successfully, when I wake her up with a well timed morning scratch.
I have to admit that the business of beautifully shredded furniture is something that we cats find instinctively and artistically satisfying. But I don't think any of us, no matter how good we are at communicating with humans, this simple minded species, has ever been able to explain the sheer beauty of it - the almost musical sound of the material tearing, and the aesthetically pleasing movement of the graceful downward strop, followed by the sheer exaggerated fluffiness of the resulting fabric. Wonderfully pleasing to the feline ear, paw and eye.
But they don't get it, Marti. They just don't understand it at all. Sometimes I think that they don't really have artistic natures. They are blind to beauty, impervious to scent, unable to distinguish the subtleties of body language, the minute alterations of the tail that mean so much...
I have also been unable to persuade Celia to pay attention to the zen patterns I draw on the litter inside the litter tray. I did a beautiful Japanese garden effect this morning. What did she do? Just scooped it out. But I love the stupid species. Somehow the sheer pathos of their limited abilities makes me fond of them.
Love
George
P. S. I haven't really answered your question on how to razzle dazzle humans, I suppose. Just be yourself, Marti. You are so purrrrfectly beautiful.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Introducing the sticky crunch of newts


Dear George,
When I first came into the kitchen with a newt thrashing about between my gums, my humans were – heaven knows why – shocked rather than grateful. Even though I have no teeth I managed to munch it with my gums and swallow it down. I made my trademark hunting cry of “marrp” in celebration.
Later I saw my companion Whicky Wuudler batting something about and stamping on it – he’s a real back paw stamper and his hocks are legendary for dispatching moles. Sure enough he’d got a newt too – only just a tiny one. The humans tried to interfere AGAIN. He ate it, except for one tiny foreleg. Next Oliver brought a live one into the house, whapped it around growling and took off at high speed when our humans interfered. He ate it too!
Why can’t they understand…. Newts are good to eat and fun to hunt. We bring them in to show them off to our two apes. Whicky left that leg out of the goodness of his heart so that they could have a nibble. Did they? They did not. What's more, a day or two later, the newts had totally disappeared! What’s wrong with these apes, George?
Love Gerry

Dear Gerry,

Many humans, or apes as you so nicely call them, seem to think that newts produce a foul tasting mucus to deter predators. They don't. I think they have them confused with toads, which do taste horrible, though frogs are quite nice if you like that sort of thing. Some humans even eat them - though they are so unsporting as to buy them frozen in frenchy supermarkets rather than going out and hunting their own. All too typical of this species. You call them apes: I call them Homo stupido.

Do you actually fish your newts out of the water, or do you just wait till they come on land and get them then? I know of cats that will clear a small garden pond of all goldfish. Fanny brought in a goldfish, left it on the kitchen floor where it was found by the humans. They placed in a tank and it survived for a further 15 years. It made interactive piscal TV for Fanny!

And I even heard of a cat that brought home a two pound koi carp, which was probably worth thousands of pounds if it had the right markings. Its humans never dared to confess to the crime.

Newts, frogs and toads will all survive cats (apart from the occasionally unlucky individual) , if there are enough hiding places for them in a garden - long grass, wood piles, stone walls etc.

I have never tried back stamping. Can your apes take a video of it so I can post it?

Love George


Saturday, October 10, 2009

Do books make me an intellectual?



Dear George,
I have decided to become an intellectual cat and the reason is that I’m fed up with my female human. I can’t stand her any longer telling everybody that my sister Cayenne is “the intellectual one” and that I’m “the frivolous” one that needs to be entertained. Well, since Cayenne decided to find her “inner kitten” ….I decided to become an intellectual and teach my snotty female human
a lesson!
Firstly, I started sleeping on books as you can see in the picture. It’s a bit “tough” but I hope this way I’ll accumulate more knowledge quicker.

Secondly, I think I should “shred” some curtains, art, something in the house…just to tell her that I don’t like it. Why can’t she have a normal painting, something like a big, fat mouse next to a piece of cheese? Even that chubby, smiling woman (the one who smiles, no matter from what angle you look at her) would do it! But no, she likes “melting clocks” or men flying hangin
g on umbrellas. And her favorite?…that guy looking in a mirror and seeing his back! See what I have to put up with?
George, I badly need y
our help to punish this snob! Or should I do something to impress her? What should I do next?
Love

Fluffy
Dear Fluffy,
Sleeping on books is a good idea. It's high up which gives an immediate impression of superiority. Its draught free. Looks good, looks very good, and if the books are large enough it is not too uncomfortable. But the big question is - which books? I can't read the titles so I am not sure.
In an ideal world the books we would choose would be Purrsuasion, Scratch 22, Mouse Catcher in the Rye, The Cat of Mounte Christo, Great Catsby, The Cat is a Lonely Hunter, Bleak Mouse, Plain Tails from the Hills, Tail of Two Kitties, Goodnight Mr Tomcat, Middlemog, The Brothers Catamazov, Zen and the Art of Mog Maintenance, and The Purrsuit of Love. Just one fully human book - A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, because in it Mark Twain suggests installing a royal family made up of cats.
Shredding, as you can so plainly see, an art form
in itself. Most of us favour the downward scratch at the back of loose covered armchairs, but several have experimented with wallpaper and report a really beautiful effect. Curtains can be more difficult, as they swing loose, but with experience a completely frilled effect can be achieved. Finally, do not forget carpet. There's lots of it, and horizontal scratching, once you get used to it, can play its part in Home Decoration.
Finally, the litter tray. The philosophical and beautiful patterns of a Japanese gravel garden can be achieved in most litters, though wood and paper litter refuses to co-operate. Dig deep. A pleasant scatter effect can be achieved from an open litter tray. Performance art - think about digging, using the tray then rushing round the house scattering litter as you go. It's
the litter skitter.
Happy Scratching. Happy Digging.
Love George.

Please suggest some more book titles in the comments. There are some that have made me laugh out loud already. Puss Puss has contributed this photo of himself on the book by Churchill, the country's leader and a good inspiration for all cats anxious to take their place as leader of their household.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Dragons for cats - the lizard option.


Dear George
There was talk of dragons earlier. I think you said you"d like to get a crack at a small dragon. Well, I have. Here's a photo of one of the tiny dragons I hunt relentlessly at home in the Pyrenees. Ok, so they don't breathe fire - the hillside would be alight in a second if they did. But lizards do look dragon-like.
Oddly enough my humans do not appreciate my efforts. Well, I say oddly enough, but you know what they are. Humans don't do gratitude. I've tried bringing these in to the kitchen and they just seem to shudder.
Yours
Lolo
Dear Lolo,
It looks pretty odd to me. I am used to mice - nice warm furry things. These lizards don't have any fur at all. it reminds me - in so far as it reminds me of anything, - the snakes that Clarri kills. He also comes from the same part of the world as you. His humans are just downright terrified even though they are much bigger than she is.
Interesting that they don't like lizards any more than they like mice. I caught a particularly large and succulent one the other day. I wondered whether they would like it better absolutely fresh, so I took it in while it was still alive. Nearly lost it through the cat flap. But I decided I would give it to Celia in her office.
The effect was not what I hoped but it was quite amusing. She let out a tiny shriek and jumped over me and the mouse (who was sitting on the carpet looking stunned), ran downstairs, ran back upstairs with a dishcloth, threw it on the mouse and grabbed the wrapped up mouse, ran downstairs again at full speed, and threw the package outside.
Were my efforts appreciated? No. Were they noticed? A big YES. Clearly mouse delivery works as a way of getting our pets to react and notice us.
Love George without Dragon.
For a photo of Clarri killing snakes look at Thursday, April 17, 2008 of this blog.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Look what I brought in... and where I put itl


Dear George,
This evening I brought home a frog from the garden and placed it in my waterbowl in the kitchen where it swam about most charmingly and gazed up at me out of the water. I was admiring it and experimenting with tapping it lightly on the head when to my amazement my human swooped down and covered the bowl up and took it out to the garden and emptied it. Can you explain why? Does this indicate she has some serious character flaw or just very low intelligence?
Yours mystified,
Chubby (Fluffums D'Wuffums)

Dear Chubby,
Humans don't get hunting. They have the predatory instinct but it is in a very warped and dysfunctional form. For a start, we are proper carnivores-only and they are omnivores. Like chimpanzees they eat fruit and veg as well as meat. We are designed for a meat-only diet. So our hunting instinct is intact, irresistable and highly efficient. Mice, rabbits, frogs... whatever, we hunt it.
Humans used to hunt but nowadays, instead, they shop. Shopping is the new hunting. It's really bad for them - sitting at a desk and ordering stuff online. Even before the net, they only walked a few yards from shop to shop. They ought to be out there slaughtering mammoths.
Of course, your human is of very low intelligence. They all are. No doubt you love her, and you want to think that she understands everything you say, but frankly she (and they) don't. They are dumb animals given to meaningless vocalising Blah blah blah. So it isn't a character flaw in her that she didn't understand the frog. It's just lack of mind. (For the zoologists among us cats, it's been proved that humans don't have theory of mind. Extensive tests with tail and ear movements have failed to show that they can really understand what we feel.)
So frogs... A sensible human would have taken it out of the bowl and eaten it with garlic as French humans do. Your human took it away
and let it go. If she'd been a cat, she'd have let it go in order to have the pleasure of catching it again. But being human, she didn't. She did the first half of the sequence and then, in her mindless human way, forgot the second half. They can't concentrate on anything more than a few minutes, Chubby.
If you keep on bringing in frogs, you MIGHT be able to train her to leave them in the bowl but I doubt it. Just accept the things you cannot change - human limitations.

George


Sunday, March 29, 2009

Of Mice and Men!


Dear George,
Here I’m back with my report (as promised!). Reading your comments gave me an excellent idea - to test my humans hunting abilities to see if they are any good. ☺
Not being as altruistic as my sister, I think that having them working around the clock (for us, cats, of course) its’ just normal! I agree that work is for men and dogs, not cats! Remember John Lennon singing “It’s been a hard day’s night and I’ve been working like a dog? See what I mean? Man & dog = perfect match for hard work ☺
Anyway, here is what happened Sunday! I started by playing Beatles’s song, just to get them used to the idea of hard work! Guess what! They didn’t get the message….they just enjoyed the music! Phew!
Then Cayenne told me that “Of Mice and Men” was playing somewhere downtown.
Excellent! – Seeing this should give them the idea that men hunt for cats!
So, I rushed and got tickets for all four of us. What a disappointment! First of all, it was not about “mice” (I don’t know what Stein
beck was thinking of when he wrote it); it was about a man who took a woman for a mouse and petted her to death! Phew! Phew! Phew! THIS WAS NOT HUNTING! I don’t know what it was, but my male human seemed pretty touched and my female human (guess) was crying! Crying? Why? One does not cry over a mouse; one eats the mouse! Then, in despair, I said to my sister “let’s give it a last try”. So, we decided to take them on a night hunting spree! When the night came, we took them to a good place (where we knew few mouse holes) and showed them where to hide and wait! I was holding my breath waiting to see the first little mouse caught by my humans! BIG, BIG, BIG disappointment! I could not believe it! THEY ARE USELESS! They lack the passion, the patience and the enthusiasm for hunting. He was completely restless and she was giggling every minute.
I swear I could hear mice laughing at us! George, how can you train humans to hunt for cats? Did you train Celia? Did she catch anything yet? I mean….she’s your secretary; after all….this should be part of her job, right? Oscar Snuggles what about your staff? The Island Cats? Let me hear from your experience guys!
Love,
Fluffy
Dear Fluffy,
Training humans to hunt mice is the only area of training where I have absolutely failed. Like you and your sister, I have tried. Over and over again. I started by bringing home corpses. I thought that perhaps they would eat them and get
the taste for it, so to speak. Then I tried bringing home the corpses and playing with them to give the humans the idea. I would throw them up into the air and pursue them. Play hunting - here's a photo of me in action near the dustbin. It should have been obvious to them what to do but they didn't join in.
Then, I went the whole hog and started bringing in living mice through the cat flap. It seemed to me that these would be irresistable. After all, I find them irresistable. I put them in the kitchen, the living room, the utility room and, if the cat flap hadn't been closed at night, I would have brought them upstair and placed them on the bed in the middle of the night. My predecessor Fat Ada used to do that.
Mice obviously weren't hitting the spot. Perhaps they were too small. So I brought in a couple of rats. The first one jumped out of my mouth before I got into the kitchen. The second I got safely through the cat flap and it, very enticingly, ran up the corner of the kitchen wall almost to ceiling level. Celia noticed that one and held a welly underneath it, into which it fell. Then what did she do? Chucked the whole welly, rat and all, into the garden. In one final effort I brought in a couple of baby rabbits. She "rescued" these. Why? I can't imagine. She's always complaining about the way they eat her veg.
But humans aren't rational. What is so silly, and so touching, about this intellectually limited species is that they think they are. All in all, I've given up trying to teach them to hunt mice. Let me know if you have any success in the future. I never have. I admire your persistence and your patience with them.
George

I've given up.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

I hate jogging; I’m a yoga girl!


Dear George,
I believe that my wellbeing is in big danger. Let me tell you why I think so!
This past Sunday, I and my sister, Fluffy, woke up our male human at 6 am
to serve us breakfast, which he did willingly and then he went right back to sleep.
By 7 am I felt like playing so I start calling out on our female human.
I heard her saying “it’s Sunday - I want to sleep”. First of all, how is a Sunday different than any other day of the week? If you ask me….it’s not! Then…why should they sleep longer on the weekends? They shouldn’t! So, I completely ignored her comments and kept calling out on her.
Finally she called my name and there I was….happy, hoping that we’ll play. I jumped right on top of her (as she was sleeping on her left side). And….guess what? Instead of getting a kiss and a rub, I heard “Oh! dear…you are getting too heavy” and then she told the male human “we have to do something about this; we have to cut back on her food and exercise her more”. WHAT? Is she crazy? I WAS PARALIZED! SPEECHLESS!
I panicked but I was thinking fast; what George would advise me now? What should I do? Punish her? No! Reward! That’s it! George would tell me to reward this crazy creature. So, I pretended that I didn’t hear her comments and I started grooming her right arm. I did this very thoroughly trying to find a flea or something, so she’ll realize I saved her life. But, instead of showing any gratitude…I guess she felt offended by me assuming that she can still have fleas after taking a shower the night before.
Well, I got so put off by her attitude! Such arrogance! Then...it hit me! What on earth did she mean by “having me exercise more”? Running up and down the stairs, like Fluffy? Jogging? I hate jogging – I’m a yoga girl! And she knows that! Each time she does yoga, there I am helping her. For example; when she does the Lion’s pose (the one where she bends forward sticking her tongue out – yak!) I quickly clamp on her back trying to push so she’ll bend forward properly. Or if she’s doing Cobra (when she lies down flat on her belly) I quickly jump on her back just to make sure that she stays still and holds her breath. Do you think that she ever thanked me for this? Nooooo! And….between you and me…I don’t even think she’s serious about yoga because when I’m trying to help she starts laughing until she “shakes me” off her back. Insensitive traitor; that’s what she is!
Not to mention that later on the day, she said something about “fasting”. I mean – I know Easter is close but, George, do cats fast? If yes, for what reasons? Religion? Or, what else? I wish humans could express their thoughts better without inventing new words like “lean protein”, “less carbs”, etc. What is wrong with them? We, cats, are extremely sophisticated and yet, can express ourselves in simple thoughts and words.
What I’m going to do George? I like to eat, sleep and read! Now I have to watch out for myself and see what these creatures are up to.
So, dear George, here is a very serious question?
How can I lose few pounds (just to get these monsters off my back) without cutting back on my food, fasting or exercising more?
As I said, my wellbeing is in danger, so I will hold my breath until you’ll answer.
Hugs
Cayenne

Dear Cayenne,
Glad to see you are taking human training seriously, but I am very worried about your human's attitude re avoirdupois, or being well found, or being just ever so slightly teenily weenily overweight. It's a pretty worrying moment when humans start worrying not about their own weight (they do that all the time if they are female) but about OUR weight... It is no business of theirs.
Cats do not fast. Not ever. Indeed if they are forcibly fasted, they are in danger of hepatic lipidosis (if they are fat). Humans can fast safely. Dogs can fast safely But cats can't. Even a vet, that vilest of human creatures, will tell her that - luckily.
You could lost weight by the following quite enjoyable methods
1. Eat more protein and less carbs. Purrsuade your human to buy a better class of cat food with nore protein in it. This is done by refusing to eat cheaper food. Well, refusing to eat it while they are in the same room. Look unhappy. Cover it up as if it was something nasty in the litter tray. Look hungry. Quite often they will try and feed you something else. Something better and better means more meat less starch. The carbs in cat food are just there becaue they are cheap. We cats don't need them. There is one disadvantage, better cat food is tastier, so you might eat more so it might not work.
2. Start hunting your humans as prey. Ambush them round corners, run up and down the stairs after them. The running is not boring if you are doing it as part of predation or hunting. Treat them as if they were gigantic mice. Yes, I know its exercise but its fun. If you catch and wound them they will make a delightful shriek.
3. Purrsuade them to let you out to hunt real mice.
4. Purrsuade them to play more games with string with you. Start bringing them things to throw for you. I know dogs do this and we cats really hate imitating these servile beasts, but it is one area where they have got hold of a bright idea. Fetch. When you take a small ball to a human, pause, look cute, and drop it at their feet, they often respond by throwing it. And it's fun to chase.
George.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Mouse deposits - the way to stop financial meltdown?

Dear George,
High finance and the arrogance of merchant bankers, who call themselves the Masters of the Universe, usually don't interest me. We cats are Masters of the Universe. We all know that. We are the most successful species in the world, inhabiting not just every continent but also every small island. However - and it is a big however - I am beginning to worry about the cat food deposit in my human's kitchen. Is it safe? Or will it disappear in the financial meltdown.
Henry

Dear Henry,
Times are worrying. Very worrying. Here in the UK we cats have been directly affected. Cats Protection, the feline charity, has lost 11 million pounds that they deposited in a bank owned by the bankrupt Icelandic Bank. This will compromise their plans to set up more rescue centres for needy felines.
We all need to pull together. We cats can help our humans if we look for creative and useful solutions to the mess produced by this, the most incompetant of species. We can start by hunting our own food, to eke out those vital kitchen deposits. Every mouse, lizard, fly and rabbit caught and eaten by us will make the tinned or dry cat food go further.
Better still, deposit stuff into the food bank. Catch a mouse and store it for later. Currently I have deposited a live mouse under Celia's kitchen cooker. When she shines a torch there, she can see it moving about. The silly woman doesn't realise that this is food. By depositing it live I have ensured that it does not take up room in the fridge. It leaves no carbon footprint at all. This is green food storage.
I also put one in the utility room and, deciding on a 3 am snack last night, I re-caught it. It was fun. Actually I wasn't that hungry, so I just ate the head and deposited the body on the landing just outside the bedroom door. She nearly, but not quite, stepped on it in the morning. Did she congratulate me? Was she pleased at my efforts to help the household budget? No. She swore.
Nevertheless, I am a cat with a plan to put an end to financial meltdown. Help your humans during the stockmarketl crash. Catch a mice and deposit it in your own personal home food bank.
George
PS She's back. Miaowing about cats that barber each other. If you can help her with information, or if you want to send her a photo, contact her via her website, http://www.celiahaddon.com

Sunday, October 05, 2008

How do we cats vote?

Dear George,
How should we felines vote? Republican or Democrat? Tory or Labour? And why don't we have a vote? I should like to have a paw in the business of choosing the human leader.
Lucy.

Dear Lucy,
Don't even think about voting. Humans spend hours bothering themselves about politics. We cats are much more sensible. We just get on with our own affairs. However, in theoretical terms your question is an interesting one.
AS an English cat, I am not so sure about the differences between Republicans or Democrats though obviously my colour predisposes me to take an interest in Mr Obama. On the other hand that Sarah woman is obviously a terrific hunter. Did you see that bearskin! And moose not mere mice!  What she brings home beats any of the mice or rabbits I have brought home.
We cats have been described as selfish. I would call us sensibly self interested. And independant. As such we might vote Tory rather than Labour. We don't do altruism except for our own families. We don't look after poorer cats. We don't share. 
On the other hand we do exist on handouts. I mean I don't actually pay for my cat food. My humans do that. So perhaps I am part of the dependancy culture. So on that score we might vote Labour.
What do the rest of you think? Please enlighten me.
George.
PS. My secretary is away for a week learning the scientific side of animal behaviour so this is only a short entry.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Humans, not cats, are the true killing machines

Dear George
I spend a lot of time hunting in the nearby hedges, in the village were I live. I brought a mouse home yesterday through the cat flap and there were shrieks as it slipped out of my mouth in the kitchen. My humans don't seem to like the fact that I go hunting almost every day. Yet it's the activity which gives my whole life its joy and meaning.
Yorkshire Patch

Dear Patch,
We all have difficulties with our humans about this one, - that is if we live in a nice family home rather than a barn or stables. Humans like the idea that we keep down the mice numbers but they are also queasy about seeing us doing it. Humans are dreadful hypocrites on this issue.
A few thousand years ago, we noticed that humans needed cats. Indeed mice are the cause of the cat-human relationship. They had started growing grain and building granaries and we moved in. Soon we saw that humans would be better off if we domesticated them, so we moved further into their homes and the close cat-human relationship was off and away. 
However domesticated they are, humans like us don't seem to have lost the killing instinct. Their instinct is worse than ours. We kill mice and usually eat them. They kill each other. That is unimaginable in cat society.
Over the past 9000 years of domestication we have tried to teach them how to live in peace with each other. We keep the peace instinctively. True, there are cat fights over willing females occasionally but more often than not, our toms just line up peacefully for a go. Why fight when there is plenty to go round and our females seem to enjoy it.
We deal with conflict much better than humans do. We avoid it.OK so we do a bit of posturing and hissing but most of the time we just walk round each other. If you look at how cats live together in a home (in a group of unrelated animals which is totally unlike the normal closely related wild cat colony), we manage ourselves by avoiding each other. 
We have our separate beds and favourite places and, unless we are forced to, we eat at seperate times. If we do fight, there may be wounds but we don't kill. We time share rather than sharing - unless we are good friends or relatives in which case we eat together and sleep touching each other.
Humans at low levels of society seem to manage this but once there are thousands of them it all goes wrong. They band together in large packs and slaughter each other. They don't even fight fairly with their feet and hands. They invent weapons which allow themselves to kill each other from thousands of miles away. They even slaughter babies and females. So it is the greatest hypocrisy when they object to the odd dead, or not so dead, mouse.
Yes, we have our hunting instincts. Yes we kill mice and rabbits and lizards and insects. We are predators. But so are humans. They prey on their own kind. We don't kill other cats. They kill each other in the millions. 
Humans could learn from us if they weren't so arrogant.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

A word about me....


I am interrupting my normal business of answering questions from other cats, in order to tell you cats out there about me. It is part of a Meme tag game played by my US counterpart, George, and the rest of the crew. (Wow, that is my first link in text!). 
I hope I am playing the game correctly by doing this. My secretary, Celia, is only half competant with the blog format - something I find very embarassing. I keep her on because I don't have the heart to fire her. I am sure many of you cats will share my mixed feelings about my human - I love her, but I do wish she was a bit brighter.
My agony column exists to share with other cats these conflicts of emotion and the real conflicts of interest that we cats have with our humans. Being a human owner takes real commitment. We have to put up with their clumsiness, the inability to sense our true feelings (all that picking up and cuddling when we want to get on with other more important things), and, of course, their ridiculous idea that they own us. Deluded creatures in total denial.
I have added one of my favourite pictures of myself. You may notice that I am black. Black is beautiful, say I. Here in the UK black is also lucky as in lucky black cat. I am here looking at a dragonfly (out of the frame so I have added a small picture of it below) with a view to slaughtering it and then crunching it up. The garden pond has many of these brightly coloured insects and the larger ones make an enticing chitinous noise with their wings. They don't taste very good but the texture is delightful - like pork crackling cut thin enough for a feline to crunch up.
My day starts with waking up Celia at the time of my choosing. Usually that is 6.30am. Her timetable starts at 7.30am which is why I have to go through the bother of waking her. She's particularly difficult to wake at weekends. Indeed she is lucky to be allowed on my bed. She takes up a horrifying amount of room, she breathes and snores very loudly indeed, and keeps changing position trying to find more room for her legs. In some ways I wish I had trained her to use the sofa downstairs but when I first arrived in the house I was a kitten and unable to anticipate the fact that I would need more space.
The rest of my day goes like this - get up, eat food out of bowl, go out, patrol territory and hunt, come back, eat food out of bowl, sleep, go out, patrol and hunt, come back, eat food out of bowl and sleep - repeated numerous times. Occasionally I pause to greet the family - maybe wake Ronnie when he is having his afternoon nap, jump on Celia's word processor or press the keyboard. That sort of thing. Just to show the humans that they matter to me.
And once a week I answer queries about human behaviour from other cats. I would like more of them particularly those reflecting on the silly side of humanity.
Here is my me-me. I've just seen another of those very large dragonflies flitting by so I must go now.  

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Cat kills viper - beat that, all you cats out there!


Dear George
My name is Clari and I am a serial viper killer. A great ginger hunter. Of course I catch lots of mice. They just need total patience sitting guarding a mousehole in the fields around. And as for rabbits, there are very very few around here in this part of the Catalan border, but I did once catch a hare that was the same size as me. I brought it into the house via a barred window and two doors which I know how to open. It was a huge hare. Lizards are indeed a mere nothing to me despite their speed. My speed of reaction is phenomenal, quicker than the eye can see at times. It needs to be because I also go for the dangerous ones. Snakes. It's a real rush. The excitement, the adrenaline - there's nothing like it. It is the ultimate hunting moment. A cat has to be quick as lightening not to get bitten. And if you get it wrong, it's death by adder.
Vive la chasse! And then some.
Clariboys

Dear Clari,
You win the all-time award for feline hunting trophies - the George Cross. Due to human laziness on my staff, the actual medal has not yet been cast. I have talked to Celia about this and I will give her another telling off, and get her to jump to it. In the meantime I will put you on the George roll of honour and you will be in my next book. Hunting exploits with this degree of dashing fearlessness should be recognised and immortalised. A dog couldn't do this. It would just end up with a poisonously swollen nose. Only we cats have the swift responses to take on snakes.
I've talked to your human who took the picture. She was scared stiff of getting bitten or (worse still from our point of view) putting you in danger of death by interfering with your strike. She reports that you were cool, perfectly cool. Just as if it was nothing special to get in there with a death dealing reptile. (In the Far East bigger boas actually eat cats whole but vipers just strike in self defence and kill by poison). Your housekeeper and your human butler, Giles, say that they often find mangled bodies of vipers on the patio.
I am sure that cats everywhere will join me in hearty congratulations on a simply terrific bit of feline hunting. Can any feline beat this?
George
PS. The snake is probably a smooth snake, Coronells austriaca or gironida or maybe a juvenile Western whip snake (Coluber). I'm sure you have had vipers too, Clari. But I thought a little zoological ID would be in order.

Friday, October 19, 2007

More on worms and snakes and pets


I have been thinking further thoughts on worms. I reckognise that some people think worms are only for kittens. I know that Orlando the Cat's black son, Tinkle, used to have a pet worm. He called it Wormintrude and it lived in a matchbox. He said he would have it stuffed when it died. But Tinkle was only a kitten after all and he was probably just going through a worm phase. I went through a worm phase as a kitten too.
But even as an adult, I find them mildly interesting, as you can see from this not-very-good picture. Celia was digging some good cow manure (interesting smells) into the veg garden and several worms protruded. I poked them, then took one and put it in the grass. I poked it some more. It wriggled deep into the grass. I poked again and it wriggled in deeper. Not very dramatic. No squeaking. It didn't smell good to eat like a mouse does.
I don't think a worm would make a very satisfactory pet - and indeed Orlando the Marmalade cat thought the worm would quickly bore Tinkle. (The story, Orlando Keeps a Dog, doesn't say what happened to the worm in its matchbox. Perhaps it died of neglect.) I think I might get bored too easily too. Then Celia would have to look after it and for some reason she doesn't like worms.
She is much more interested in snakes. There are some grass snakes in the garden and occasionally I see one swimming in the pond, but I have never caught one. Some cats do. There's a cat I know in the South West of France regularly catches and brings home adders. Her human pets find the dead snakes lying on the patio and they have promised to send me a photo next time there is a suitable corpse. Naturally they are worried that one day she may get it wrong and die from an adder bite, but so far this hasn't happened.
Maybe I should have a snake as a pet.

Friday, September 14, 2007

My ten things a cat dislikes about humans


Here are the ten most irritating things about my humans.
1. They keep wanting my attention when I am busy. Why don't they fit in better with my schedule? They wake me up when I am sleeping or napping. Or pick me up when I am hunting.
2. Celia takes up too much room in my bed. Why can't she sleep on the sofa?
3. She varies her own mealsbut she expects me to eat the same food more or less till the packet is finished.
4. She wants to hug and cuddle me. I don't mind a bit of a cuddle but she would do it all day if she could. She has no restraint. It is cuddle harassment.
5. She won't let me eat from the butter dish.
6. Humans keep vocalising on and on and on and on. They don't understand body language and they are more or less smell blind. Dumb (in the mental sense) creatures. Their hearing isn't up to much. They can't hear mice footfalls like I can.
7. They have things. Possessions. I live light - just me and my four paws, razor sharp claws and teeth, and sleek fur. They fuss about things a lot of the time.
8. They take away the mice I bring into the house and they don't even eat them. What a waste. Celia even screamed at the rat I brought in.
9. They sleep at the wrong time of day - ie night. And they wake all through the day. I like a long midday rest, an early dawn start and a dusk to midnight hunting schedule. But they lure me in before midnight and lock the cat flap.
10.They really don't understand me.... which accounts for much of my blog.
What do you hate about humans?

PS. This is a picture of Cusco - don't you like his tooth!

Monday, September 03, 2007

I am a 3 am cat. Celia is plotting against midnight hunting.


I was a bit late last night. Midnight passed in a glorious fury of hunting under a harvest moon, owls hooting, dark hedges rustling with mice driven in by the combine harvester, moths, and deep moonlight. I came back in the small hours. Leaped on my bed (where she was taking up a lot of room) and gave her an admittedly rather perfunctory Hello - a quick knead, an even quicker rub. Then I leaped down again to the food bowl. All this late night hunting gives a cat a good appetite.
She was not happy. I could tell that. She doesn't like it when Ronnie comes home late from the pub and she doesn't like it when I stay out too late. She nags both of us. She had the light on in bed and was reading a book about Neanderthals (she's a prehistory nut - see www.celiahaddon.co.uk). She never stays up this late reading. Thinking it over, after a large plate of food and an extended and vigorous wash that shook the bed, I concluded she had stayed up for me. Out of anxiety. I expect she was thinking of a squashed mess on the road - about 400 yards down the cart track. I never go on the road - except when I do. And it's true that late at night is when most cats are run over. We don't get the lights. We just get dazzled and make a run for it.
So... she was not pleased. Today I overheard her discussing strategies. She's going to withdraw the feeding bowls from 2pm onwards. (Won't work. Hunting is far more important than being a bit hungry. I was also outraged to hear that she was unfairly going to put down snacks for William when I was out.) She is going to interrupt my noon to 4pm nap and maybe lock me outside during those hours. (It might help except the adrenaline rush of hunting will over-ride exhaustion).
Then she came up with the idea of driving up and down the cart track. I don't like cars. I can recognise hers of course. But it might make me uneasy. The fear instinct might, just might, over ride the hunting instinct. I may be a predator but I take good care not to become prey (to a car).
Watch this space...

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I am dreaming of a beautiful white swan.


This is a huge white feather belonging to a swan. I leaped on it. nibbled it. played with it. Pouncing on it. Dragged it around. It was simply huge. About ten times bigger than a greenfinch tail feather. (I have had a few of those). Three times the size of a black bird. As long as, but much wider than, a pheasant's tail feather. My human pet, Celia, and Lesley, the pet belonging to Opus1 and Opus2 (see past comments) brought it back from a walk for me. (Humans are social animals. I am pleased that Celia has found a friend to play with. It makes her less dependent upon me and William.)
The gigantic feather set me off into a wonderful day dream. I am slinking along the bank of a clear rushing river - gleaming black, huge paws soft and silent as silk, nose drinking in the scent of a summer day, tail twitching very slightly at the tip. The river flags are in full yellow flower. Water lilies bloom where the current is not too fast. Purple loosestrife adorns the bank. And on the river itself is a noble swan. It is the most magnificent creature gleaming white against the water. It sails along serene and magnificent. The image of beauty and calm.
With one bound I leap into the river, landing skillfully upon its back, grabbing it in a killer bite at the back of the neck. Blood gushes. It fights back but I am (in the dream) more powerful than a mere bird, however big. Like a powerful black panther, I hang on despite its struggles. Then its bright black eyes begin to dim dim, its movements become more feeble, and it slowly sinks below the water. A dying swan. With strong sweeps of my paw I paddle to the river side, crushing the loosestrife as I drag this noble prey to the bank. I am the greatest hunter in the world. I wake to the single feather.
Celia says this is a disgusting blog. As I have said before - she doesn't understand me.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Why do cats love to hunt?


My game bag is currently truly impressive. I am getting faster and better at catching and killing rabbits. My score now stands at about 20. Rabbits are take-away meals for cats like me. Celia says that the garden is now strewn with corpses. I don't know why she should complain. I'd bring them into the house, except that she has installed a cat flap which is just too small. Earlier in the summer (so called) I carried in several youngsters, mostly dead but some alive. But the rabbits are now young adults and I just can't squeeze them through. What does she expect me to do? Bury them, as if I was a dog?
Sometimes I eat a bit of them. Sometimes I don't. Occasionally William eats a bit too. It just depends on how we feel. We do not hunt to eat. Of course, were we living in the wild we would. But because we have plenty of cat food, we just hunt. Mostly I just go and do it. But, when I feel philosophical about it, I try to think why I do it. It's a drive inside me. An instinct. And the glorious moment when I spring into the whole sequence of eye, stalk, pounce, grab and bite, just thrills me. A great cascade of excitement and joy runs through me from the tip of my nose through my whole body down to the last centimetre of my tail. This moment is what I was meant to do. This is what I am - a predator. At that moment I am fulfilling my true destiny.
The only flaw in this glorious life is Celia the Moaner. She whinges ceaselessly. If I bring in a living rabbit, she grabs it with a towel and takes it away. (I don't think she realises that I scoot out a bit later, sniff the air, and go straight to where it is and grab it again. Mind you, occasionally she can hear the rabbit screaming with terror. She hates that though I find the screams immensely thrilling.) She's not much better about the dead ones. "It's like the Somme battlefield. It's disgusting," she said to Ronnie. Her tone of voice was disagreeable, very disagreeable, but I know for a fact that she dislikes the way rabbits eat her vegetables. She bags the corpses and throws them in the dustbin. She complains that I don't eat them. If she feels like that, why doesn't she eat them? Many humans enjoy rabbit pie.
I have added a picture of a particularly fine specimen that I left near the car. She says it is revolting to put a corpse on a blog. I say it is a trophy not a corpse. I am proud of it. I wanted to pose with it, one paw uplifted in triumph but she refused to take the shot. She thought it might make readers feel she was an accessory to murder. What hypocrite she is.
She is a kill-joy (literally) on the topic of me and rabbits.

Friday, August 03, 2007

George cheated... he tried to take credit for my weasel


This is my weasel. I, William the bold hunter, caught it. Over the years I have caught several. It takes skill. They are very fierce, fast moving and, if you get it wrong, they can give a very vicious bite. They go for the throat. Luckily, I have never yet got it that wrong. This one I caught the other day, and left on the lawn. Because I was brought up without a cat flap I don't bring prey inside. (It's difficult enough doing the cat flap without trying to do it with a mouse or a weasel in my mouth. I only got the hang of it a couple of years ago when Celia installed one for the first time.)
Anyway I caught the weasel. I brought it home. Placed it on the lawn to admire it. (You don't eat weasels unless you are starving.) And what happened? George bagged it and brought it through the cat flap and deposited it in the dining room. Celia and Ronnie came back to find it. "Look what George has done" she crooned. "He's caught a weasel. He's such a good hunter." I felt sick to my stomach at this betrayal.
It was left to Ronnie to put her right (as he often does). "Nonsense. George may have brought it in, but William caught it," he said stoudly defending my hunting prowess. I like Ronnie. We have a man to man relationship.
To mark my skill, they put it back on the lawn and took this picture. Not every cat can catch a weasel. George for one can't. He's just a rotten cheat.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

George's war chant at the sight of rats


This is my war chant. I borrowed the booms and the ricka ticka from the rather similar Walthamstowe High School for Girls hockey chant used in the l930s. War chanting is the rhythmic expression of rising excitement. This is just the humanised version of my teeth chattering at the sight of prey. Got to explain it to humans, you see.

Boom, boom, boom chicka boom. Boom ricka ticka ticka boom.
Boom screw the cat trap, boom wow the rat trap,
Boom boom boom.
Ratticus Catticus sis boom bah. George is a rat killer. Ya ya ya.

PS. Still working on the rap version.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Did God who made the robin, make me?

Did God who made the robin (which I caught yesterday) make me? Robins die easy, but mice are much more fun because they die slowly. When they sit frozen with fear and completely immobile, I just stare at them. If their immobility goes on too long, I poke them to make them move.Then when they make a run for it, I leap on them all over again - eyeing, stalking and pouncing over and over again. I do this in play for half an hour or so until they die in earnest. Even when they are dead, I often play with them. I throw the corpse up in the air to get it moving. Did God make me in order that I should torture mice?
I can't help it. My instinct is to pounce on small furry objects which are moving or to leap up at feathered ones that are flying past. If God made me, he made me to be a smaller version of the fearful symmetry of the tiger, a small but deadly killing machine. I have to hunt. It is not just what I do.The sequence of hunting, - eye, stalk, pounce, grab and eat - is intelligently designed into my flesh and blood. This pattern is what I am. I know what is play for me is torture for the mouse. Am I therefore evil?
But I am not just a hunter. I think about spiritual topics. Is God a cat? Am I created in the image of God. Even if God isn't a cat, and is more like a human, what have humans to be proud of? They have slaughtered more of their own species than I have had mice or robins. They kill each other. I don't kill cats. The very idea is shocking. If humans are made in the image of God, then it must be a pretty beastly God (except beasts do not usually kill each other). A cat God might be preferable.
This all leads up to a bit of a boast. I am in a Times blog, written by Ruth Gledhill, the religious correpondent. http://timescolumns.typepad.com/gledhill/2007/05/faith_in_all_th.html#more

Help for cats whose humans show behaviour problems.

This blog is devoted to the study of human behaviour. We cats, who live with this sometimes unpredictable and always feeble minded species, can benefit from seeing their behaviour in its proper scientific context. The study of feline dilemmas, training problems, and difficulties with humans, can only benefit all of us. All of us train our humans - to buy the right food, for instance, but many of us do not have knowledge of how to improve our training methods. The human species is obviously not as intelligent as the cat, but nevertheless can learn quite a lot - if properly managed. Topics of interest include the use of claw and order, purring as a human reward, rubbing your human up the right way, when to bite, spraying as a method of making our wishes known, ignoring the human, human harassment, human inattention and sheer human stupidity. I welcome your questions. Photos can be sent via my secretary's website, www.celiahaddon.com This blog has been chosen as one of the top 50 feline blogs by Online VetTechprogramms.org